Dirt entombed her. It caught in her hair, her clothes, her teeth. She clawed along the half-dug tunnel in complete darkness. Even with her slim frame, half breaths were all she could draw. She felt her untreated wounds gather dirt. The thin slash at her hip parted further as the walls dragged it open. She wasn't worried about infection. "Pack it with dirt." Was time tested advice. The cause of her pain would be her shield.
She could hear them above her. The dull thumping steps as they battled the flame. The muffled cries of careless men as they got too close and caught their deaths. The march of reinforcements and the revelrous cries of far past drunken merriment. They drank on the pyres of their friends, their brothers.
Dirt settled around her as the little tunnel caved under their dancing. She continued on, ignoring her rising fear. She felt the air thin as she moved along. Shapes danced in the darkness. The thousand-legged spider stepped over her. The blue giant crawled behind her. The sparrow dug ahead of her.
And then there was light.
She had found the end of the tunnel, and the first stirrings of dawn. The stars weren't hidden here, from beneath the dirt. They shone in a vast band of liquid gold. Heaven's belt slashed across the space between. It twinkled violet and indigo. There was barely a spec of empty space behind it.
She crowned arm first, then she pushed her head through. The first breath she took was ecstasy. Then the rain collapsed the dirt onto her. The mud gave her no purchase and she slipped under again. Grit and stones snapped her nails as she clawed her way upwards. She gave no thoughts to stealth; gasping and gaping as she did. She thrust her gauntlet into the mud and finally found her leverage.
She rose, her red leather stained black by mud. Her face caked in dirt. Her hair, still bloody though now much darker. She must have looked half a shadow in this early morning light. The sunrise had yet to crest, but its sapphire crown sat on the horizon. The black of night would soon give way to the blue of dawn, and the red of day.
But her duty must be fulfilled by then.
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Ash trudged through their backlines. No man saw her, or he saw six of her through his empty bottles. It seemed the toasts of the night had caught up with the bandits, though they would be ready to attack come the day. She doubted the flame would last much longer under this ever-growing rain.
They had set up a small siege camp. It wasn't much. A hide padded tent to stop arrows from burning through. A couple of wooden chairs and amenities. It wasn't luxury, but it was the best spot in the camp. The 'Duke' must have been there.
She strolled past some sleeping sentry with her spear held tightly. He lay in the dirt with a wooden tankard spilt over his chest. She considered ending him while he slept, but the idea of murdering a man while he slept still gave her pause, even after all she had done that night. Ash skulked along somewhat further, unharried.
They had left their vast stain on her home. The golden grasses were burnt black, and the flowers were trampled to dirt. It was no paradise at the best of days, but it deserved better than this. She would grant it better than this with a single fell swoop.
The velvet palace with its hide roof came into reach. She found the front door, unguarded and unbarred, and simply walked in.
The quality of man that awaited within cannot be understated. His diseased flesh had been obfuscated by a pure white paste, close to makeup but not nearly as elegant. What should have been his hair could more aptly be described as a thin crown of disgrace. Closer to a scorched tuft of grass than a proud mane. His beard was different at first glance. It could almost be described as noble, until she noticed the lace behind it. The proudest part of him was attached by some adhesive. He still wore his garish pink breastplate and its green and blue striped accompaniment.
He hadn't noticed her; so enthralled was he in the camp follower in his lap. A beautiful young woman, clearly reserved for his far from desirable touch. To her surprise, it wasn't the Duke who spoke first, but the woman.
"Ooh, I like this one," she said. "The bold ones are always so much more fun." The woman spoke as though every word came with a kiss and a promise, though Ash had no clue what the promise could be.
"Tell me, Snowangel, are you here to kill this 'Duke'?" The woman laughed. She traced a pointed red fingernail across the man's jaw as she asked.
"I am." Ash grimly replied. "Please step aside; you needn't be hurt."
"My white knight! My hero, come to rescue me." The strange woman giggled. She moved to the dazed Duke's neck and seemed to kiss it for a moment. Then she stood and, with her back turned, walked away from the pale 'Duke'. "Go ahead, I've had my fill."
He didn't resist, and Ash didn't care. She stormed up to him and thrust the tip of her spear through his heart as he just smiled at her. His glazed eyes drifted from hers over to the dark woman at the other end of the tent.
"Did I do well?" He spluttered through the pool of blood within his lungs. Ash dragged the spear back and kicked his body to the ground. He was dead. It couldn't be that simple.
"Who are you?" Ash finally asked of the woman.
"A friend, I hope." She cheerfully answered, though she never fully faced Ash. "I have so few of them."
"What did you do to him?" Ash asked, kicking the corpse's hand aside.
"I enthralled him. Advantage of having rather large tits, I'm afraid." The woman laughed. She seemed to wipe her face before turning from the shadows.
"He died gladly because of your... endowment?" Ash grimaced.
The woman wasn't lying about her 'advantage'. When under the dawnlight, she was a beauty. Raven black hair and smooth milky white skin. Piercing sanguine eyes that seemed to appreciate every inch of your person. The figure of a goddess, and the proportions to match.
"Of course not, as I said; I enthralled him. He was my thrall." She smiled a dark smile through her smoky black painted lips.
"You are a magician?" Ash guessed. It was a conscious effort for Ash to maintain eye contact. She was awkward enough around most, but this woman and her eyes that seemed to contain all the flame of the pyre wall. It was too much to hold, not to mention Ash's gaze being drawn... elsewhere. The woman seemed to notice, though she didn't seem to mind.
"A magician? No," she laughed a laugh of silk and seduction. "I'm on the other side. The fun side."
"But you controlled this Duke, you lead these bandits? You attacked my home." Ash accused. She raised her steel and held it high.
"No." The woman whispered severely. "I came here to stop them."
"But you failed?" Ash did not lower her spear. She kept it coiled and ready to strike.
"Yes. I'm sorry for that." She sadly admitted. The woman stalked closer to Ash. She placed her chest to the tip of her spear. "But I do hope we can still be friends." She grinned again.
"Probably not." Ash said, pulling her spear back to her side.
"And why must you break my heart, Snowangel?" She faked a sob.
"Because you won't even tell me your name."
"Why should I? You haven't told me yours." She covered her mouth with her delicate hands. She wore five rings, all ornamental. A glove of sorts wrapped around her middle finger and joined her sleeve, up to her burgundy and black dress.
"I wasn't... consorting with murderers." Ash spat.
"You aren't yet. Give us time. I'm sure you'll love the 'consorting.'" The dark woman winked.
"I haven't got time for this." Ash grunted. "There are still bandits out there. Some lieutenant will take his place."
"Probably... But come on, Snowy!" The woman mockingly pled. She stroked a nail down Ash's belly as she got much too close.
"Don't call me Snowy." Ash snapped, flicking away the woman's hand.
"Ooh, a sore spot. I wonder why?" The woman smirked. She stroked her scorned hand as she circled around Ash like predator and prey. "Fine..." she finally sighed. "Since you wanna take all the mystery out of our marriage, I'll tell you my name. A show of good faith."
"Marriage?" Ash nearly snorted.
"Arms like yours?" The woman laughed as she ran a finger along Ash's bicep. "Girl, you're a keeper."
Ash tried to brush the strange woman's flirtations off, lest she break into a blush.
"So..." She stuttered. "What do they call you, then?"
She pushed Ash away lightly, though it didn't budge the huntress. The woman stepped back a pace and smiled.
"They call me many things. Beauty, goddess, cruel bitch. Mostly they call me Tebea." Tebea said.
""Is that your name?"
"It's what I'm called. I suppose that's the same thing." She sighed. "But this is boring, Snowangel. Let's go kill some bandits."
"No!" Ash protested. "I don't trust you; for all I know Tebea means fucking... Bedbug."
"If you want me to be your bedbug, Snowangel, you need only ask."
"Besides, you'd probably slow me down. You aren't exactly dressed for combat." Ash pushed on, doing her best to ignore her. Her eyes betrayed her at that. She looked to the black and burgundy silk that so elegantly clung to her form. The corset that held her figure. She lavished in what was exposed but more so, what wasn't.
"Indeed, forgive the outfit. I hate dressing for men, all tits and skin. I much prefer what you've got on. All red leather and tattoos. Wouldn't mind seeing how the tattoos look alone, though."
That was it, she had managed a blush. She came here with every intent of dying in some heroic battle; instead, here was some raven beauty flirting with complete – and obvious – intent.
"There's so much personality in what we wear. Men like... him," She shot a disgusted glance over at the Duke's corpse. "Don't care about that, about the stories written in leather." She stroked a hand over Ash's armour. "This is a new addition, isn't it?" She asked as she tugged on her chainmail belly.
"Aye." Ash simply answered. It was all she could manage. Tebea had gotten much too close. She stood close enough to smell. Where Ash must have stank of sweat and blood, Tebea wore delicate flowers and something implacable. Ambrosia on a scent. Tebea barely seemed aware of their proximity. She seemed unfazed that her every breath caught on Ash's neck as she stroked and pulled on every seam and corner of her leather and mail.
"Aye" Tebea mocked. "So, what was there before?"
"Nothing..." Ash whispered. It made the other woman laugh.
"You must have some killer abs if you don't need armour." She teased, prodding a finger into the chainmail.
"I'm a huntress, not a soldier. I can't wear metal. It rusts and clangs." Ash stepped away from the mocking woman. There was something strange in her eyes that unsettled Ash. It was hunger, raw and savage hunger. A wolf's hunger, not a maiden's. Given half a chance, this woman would eat her alive.
"You said you were on the other side?" Ash whispered. "Which side?"
"The monstrous side. The evil, corrupting side. The side that makes virgin sacrifices under the Bloodmoon." Tebea whispered into Ash's ear. Never had a person had to hop up to reach Ash's eyeline before. "What do you say, Snowangel? Do you wish to be sacrificed upon my alter?" Her serious tone broke with a gentle smile.
"You claim to be a monster?" Ashtik doubted.
"I claim to be a woman. The monster is what I am."
"If that were true, why would you tell me?"
"Because we are friends, right? I would never lie to a friend."
Her genuine plea for friendship seemed strangely innocent for this apparent monster. Ash heard no sense of bite in her tone. She wanted to believe for a moment that the hunger in her eyes was for another. That this woman wouldn't hurt her, but Ash wasn't so naïve. She pushed Tebea away with a fair force and stepped back.
"Friends aren't made in an hour." Ash said.
"But lovers are made at first sight." Tebea winked, still persistent.
"I'm sure he thought the same thing." Ash nodded to the glad corpse.
"Maybe..." Tebea admitted with something close to a sigh. "But I wanted to kill him; I want to do much worse things with you."
"You aren't selling yourself very well." Ash took a step back from the terrifyingly persistent woman.
"Darling, I don't need to sell anything. Everybody else begs for it."
"I'm not begging."
"Nor are you everybody else..."
She tried to close the distance, but Ash dodged away. Tebea didn't give up her chase. She moved much too quickly. Within a blink she had darted half the length of the tent.
"You lied..." She whispered. Her eyes grew huge as she took Ash's marked hand in her own. "You do wear metal," Tebea traced a cold finger over the warm steel. "And such a statement piece at that. That looks like some kind of Champion brand? I think it's a high heresy to pretend to be a Champion."
"I'm not pretending to be anything." Ash grunted. She tore her gauntlet back from Tebea and took yet another step away. By this point, she had her back to the tent flaps. A cool breeze sheered her back and carried the wet of dawn on it.
"I thought friends didn't lie to each other. There is no bird marked Champion." Tebea said darkly. Her entire posture changed at that, she closed herself in. She masked any openings. She was ready to be attacked.
"I'm not lying, and I'm not pretending to be a Champion. I don't know what I am; but I know I'm not a monster. Now I need to leave; are you going to let me, or do I have to hurt you?" Ash readied her spear but didn't raise it. She gripped it tightly as she subtly coiled on her back leg.
"I won't stop you, Snowangel. Just..." Tebea's face fell low. Her eyes fixed on Ash's mark, though they took on a pleading look. "Can we still be friends?"
"I don't know you, Tebea. That's not even your real name, is it?" Ash laughed at the absurdity. "And we'll probably never even see each other again... But fine. I'll be your friend."
"You will? I- I- I promise we'll see each other again! I'll find you when you need me. I promise!" The woman was like a dog with a bone. She was pure elation. Pure joy. The façade of the cool seductress was gone.
"Why do you want to be my friend so badly?" Ash had to ask.
"Because you marched into a camp of killers on your own. Because you tattooed chains to your arms. Because I think you and I will either raise hell, or raze hell. Either way, darling, I can't wait." She giggled, she winked, she vanished.
"What?" Ash gasped. She stood silent in the open tent, with no company but a corpse of her own glad making. Tebea had vanished before her very eyes. Not between blinks or dashed on a dark shadow. She simply wasn't there anymore.
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The men still slept, though it was well into dawn now. She walked along still unable to slaughter them in their sleep. It was disgustingly quiet now. The birds didn't chirp in the trees. The rain gave away to hushed winds. The pyre didn't crackle nearly as violently. She didn't miss the screaming, though.
Her mission was complete. Ash considered returning to the village, but she knew the Lieutenants were still a threat. She tracked the deepest footprints in the dirt. One set went all the way back to the tent, it must have been the massive man with the war spike.
Ash followed along the path set out for her. It wasn't long before she found him. He sat amongst his men like some kind of holy figure. A dozen soldiers collapsed at his feet while he sat upon a throne of meat and mead. He was awake and sharpening a small blade by his standards.
"Vehma..." He breathily whispered. It carried on the wind and hit her hard. His breath was mint and garlic in combat for dominance. It was fresh and putrid, a perfumed corpse must have lay in his belly. She didn't hide from him. She stepped into his tent with little regard for her own life.
"Taqe ovoh?" The behemoth whispered as he saw her.
"This is your chance to live. Go." Ash said back. She drew her spear and let its tip fall to the floor. It chinked against the stone flooring.
"Aven dorot." His gravelly voice croaked.
"Will you leave?" She said as calmly as her shaking voice would allow.
"Yes," He answered. The massive man rose from his lecherous throne and plucked his spike from beneath himself. "When you are a pretty little corpse."
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She dashed for his throat. He didn't care. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and flipped her to his side. She crashed through a mound of old crates and barrels. The force stole the wind from her. She lay in the splinters for a moment gasping and gagging. She forced down half breath after half breath until she couldn't breathe at all. The massive man wrapped his massive hands around her throat and squoze. He tore her from the boxes and lifted her a foot from the ground. He choked, and choked till there was little left to choke.
"Little girl should have stayed home." He mocked as he lifted her even higher.
"Y- You-" Ash spluttered.
"I, what?" He smiled. He loosened his grip barely enough for her to eke out a final word.
"Your breath... fucking... reeks." She rose the dirk from her boot and slashed it through his wrist. The spurt of blood blinded her for a moment, else she'd have rounded on his throat. She collapsed down and gasped again through her swollen throat. Black bruises had already made themselves present by the first ecstatic draw. The pain started quickly after; though the adrenaline kept it numb.
"Ah, davi pari!" He screamed. She worried it would be enough to wake his men, though they still seemed purely interested in their beauty sleep.
She rose and dragged a blade from a sleeping man's sheath. It was a skinny little thing, ill fit for a grown man. It felt too small even for her admittedly meagre stature. She charged at the lieutenant while he yet reeled from his wound. She made as little noise as she could while she dashed across the little room. She bound over a sleeping soldier and thrust the blade downwards through his shoulder. It must have nicked a lung at the very least, though he didn't seem to mind. He threw her away as he stood tall. Only the hilt of the blade remained visible as blood gushed down his randomly cobbled together chest plate.
He screeched again. Like a hawk warning its prey before striking. He barrelled towards her with a crazed wrath. He stretched his arms out to grasp her, but she danced around him. She clung to his arm as he passed by, and she rode him like a horse. The dirk fell down time and time again. It struck, and it struck, and it struck until he was a quaking mound of flesh, and she was a panting, and pained, victor.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Was victory always going to be this... messy?
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She stood over his corpse and wiped the grey and red from her hands. She used the cloth from his skirts to wipe away a chunk of flesh from her armour. Then he did what fresh corpses do, and she was nearly grateful for the smell. At least it masked his foul breath.
Ash didn't linger long. She tore back her spear and ran. She had no idea why the soldiers slept, and she didn't care to temp their wrath any longer. The man she assumed to be the greatest of lieutenants was dead; it was time to go.
Then a horn sounded, and her belly dropped faster than his corpse had.
Caro had told her "Thrice for blood," but this had only sounded twice. What could that mean?
She stepped over a couple more sleeping bandits as she left the tent behind. Then nature mourned again as the sound of marching men in marching order came with marching drums. They were far from her but getting nearer. It couldn't be the bandits. She ran faster than she had ever ran before to dive into her little tunnel and crawl home.
Then the horn sounded twice again, only it was much closer. She crawled along as quickly as she could, though it felt much too slow. There was dirt in her teeth, blood was drying in her eyes and death rang in her ears; but she carried on.
The marching came over head and the dirt caved around her. The tunnel collapsed behind her and the light dimmed ahead of her; but she carried on.
The air garnered a tinge with smoke and burned her bruised throat. The corpse of the smith's youngest son lay over the tunnel's entrance. The clash of steel rang through her skull; so she carried on.
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She charged through the Elder's home. Blood pooled on the floor. She found the corpse of some mangled bandit splayed across his entry room. She charged through the great round door and found the field of conflict.
Six bandits remained. Twelve corpses lay. One man fought on.
"Champion!" An old voice called from afar. She didn't notice for a moment, then realised he meant her. The Elder sat atop the roof of a far home, with the women and children in tow. "Help him! Please!" He called.
She dashed to the half dozen bandits and whirred her spear around like a typhoon. She parted them long enough to stand at the lone warrior's side. Ser Carolet was unarmoured and seemed to hold a stolen blade in his blood-soaked hands.
"Is that your blood or theirs?" Ash asked with genuine concern.
"Probably both, child." He called back. A bandit struck at him, but he parried his strike away. He was moving too slowly, blood loss had him. She thrust out her spear at his attacker and impaled thigh. She tore it back and felt the bone snap through her spear. She slid the spear to its back pommel and span it overhead. It slammed down behind her and forced a bandit to jump back. Ash planted the spear down and vaulted atop of it. She glided through the air and landed atop of a bandit, dirk in hand.
Carolet slashed and tore away at a pair of bloodied attackers, though his movements were sluggish and weak. Despite his blatantly reduced state; Caro managed to finish the man before him while Ash harried the rest.
Ash thrust beneath Caro's legs and managed to pin a bandit to the floor. She dropped her spear and moved to fight with her dirk. She dashed and dodged around every strike and blow the bandits could throw at her. She rolled past one man and snipped behind his knee as she went. Her leg slipped in the mud as she exited her roll. She fell near flat beneath the final bandit. He wasted no time in attacking. He raised his blade and thrusted down at her head. She barely managed to edge aside, though he caught her cheek fiercely. She wrapped her legs around his arm and squoze till she heard the oh so comforting 'snap'. The bandit coiled back in agony and caught a crossbow bolt for his trouble. A beautiful shot landed gently beneath his ribs and tore through to the other side.
Then she was alone in the field of battle. Completely alone.
"Caro!" She screamed. It was of little use. The old knight was dead in the mud. She pulled his face from a puddle and held his lifeless gaze for long enough that her adrenaline finally wore out.
"Ash..." The perfect little voice whispered from her side.
"What happened?" Ash whispered. Keeping her tone low was all she could do to keep from screaming and raving and cursing a thousand bloodlines to a thousand catastrophises.
"They came with the dawn. One of the Duke's lieutenants led them." Evara whispered. She reached out a hand and brushed Ash's bloody hair aside. "You're hurt." She pointed out.
"What happened to the lieutenant?" Ash seethed. Her eyes welled, but there was no risk of tears falling. She wasn't sad. She was furious. She was hateful. She would have vengeance.
"Ser Carolet defeated him... But he yet lives. We have him bound in the baker's home." Ev answered. Ash stood at that with no further regard for Caro's corpse. "But Ash-" Evara tried to protest, but it was too little. Ash was already on her war march.
"Where is he." She near silently demanded.
"Ashtik, you are wounded. Now is the time to be calm." The Elder protested.
"Now is the time to answer my fucking question." She said with the silent warmth of a glacier. The Elder struggled to protest but found no words for her rage.
"Sparrow." The smith whispered. "If the Elder won't tell you, I will." He parted from his silently crying wife.
"I saw your son." Ash said with pity replacing rage.
"I have no sons, Sparrow knight. These bastards saw to that." The smith's rage beat her own as he barged down a cellar door. Beneath lay the bandit, chained and gagged.
"All of them?" Ash sighed. She needed no response beyond the deathly look in his eyes. "Did they die well?"
"They died like boys in battle." He simply replied. They hopped into the cellar together. She dragged her spear in behind her, its blood-soaked tip left a trail of red along her tracks. The smith carried his forge hammer with obvious intent.
She knelt at the lieutenant's side and tore his gag out. He didn't speak, he seemed simply petrified of her.
"What's your name?" She quietly asked. He didn't reply, instead he tried to crawl further from her. "Answer me before I take your tongue." She demanded.
"I- I'm sorry... It's just... I've never met a Champion before." He stuttered.
"And you'll never meet another." Ash sighed.
"Ca- can I be honest?" The man asked.
"You'd better be."
"Well... It's just that... I didn't think you'd be..." He stammered.
"Be what?"
A grin caught him. "Be such a fine piece of ass. I mean, the gods really know how to pick em'."
"Cute." Ash simply replied as her dirk removed a finger. He screamed out in pain, though it quickly fell to laughter.
"You stupid bitch!" He cackled. "When the Duke gets through that wall, he'll save you for me."
"Is that right?" Ash smirked as she took another finger. He cried a bloody wail at that, but it quickly turned to pained laughter. "How about we play a game? An answer for an answer. I'll start." Ash shone a bright smile, though it seemed to skip her eyes.
"Answer one: Your duke is dead. Now, for my answer-"
"Bullshit!" The prisoner interrupted. Ash shot a glance to the smith who immediately knew his role. The great hammer came down and shattered, with a master smith's precision, each knuckle on his still whole hand.
"Speak when spoken to, darling." Ash smiled. "Now, for my answer: What is your name?"
The prisoner hesitated a moment too long and shattered another knuckle for the trouble.
"Okay, okay! Tobais! My name is Tobais, please!" The prisoner pled.
"Very well, Tobais. Where are you from?" Ash politely asked.
"I'm from- Argh!" He screamed as the smith's hammer crushed yet another knuckle.
"Ooh, running low on those. You see, Tobias, this is an answer for an answer. I didn't give you an answer. Can't have you breaking the rules." Ash spoke like a different person before this prisoner. Even her voice was clearer, despite the damage to her throat. She spoke coldly and politely. She felt some twinge of sadistic pleasure at his pain, though she buried the thought too deep for concern to gather.
"So.. My truth: Your lieutenant, the big cunt with the war spike, he's dead too." She grinned.
"I'm from duke's crossing." Tobias sorrowfully said.
"You're from Maester Veil too? Why would you attack your own countrymen? Your fellows, they had Tevran accents, no?" Ash considered. Tobias nearly answered but held his tongue and shot his eyes over to the smith's hammer.
"Clever boy." Ash laughed. She had never said anything of the likes in her life. It was as if another woman spoke in her place, a darker woman. Tebea.
"Tobias, my truth is that this village calls for your blood. I believe they will have it soon enough. My question is this; who is Tebea?"
His eyes widened at this. Abject horror was all she could read.
"You really have been to the camp? You really did kill the duke..." He realised. She smirked and drew her spear.
"Aye, look here. It's the beating heart of your Duke." She mocked as she thrust the bloody spear tip and inch from his eye. "Now, I believe I asked a question."
"Tebea... It's Ahpic for Spider. I don't know anything about her. She just appeared last night and tangled Duke in her web. I assumed she was just some whore, but she has powers... She can do things to your mind. A demoness, I swear it!" Tobais shook as he spoke. His eyes darted between the smith's hammer, the cellar door and his crushed purple hands.
"Ahpic?" Ash repeated.
"The old language of Tenpi." The smith grunted.
"The sea throne?" Ash recalled.
"Aye. The other side of the world too. No reason for a Tenpic waif to come this far north, though." The smith explained. "But, Sparrow, how is this relevant?"
"Right," Ash nodded. "I'm sorry. Tobias, my truth is I'm regretting starting this game. My question is, why did I hear two horns blow this morrow?"
"I'm the horn blower. It wasn't us." Tobias simply replied.
"Then who was it?" She pointedly asked.
Then the horn came again. Once and twice. Then came the marching, and dying. She heard the sounds of distant battle. She heard steel screaming and men begging.
Ash ran from the cellar and the smith wasn't far behind. The battle was outside the walls though, she couldn't see it past the final wisps of flame.
"What's happening?" She shouted.
"The Baron! He's here!"
Red banners marched towards the village gate. Beautiful crimson brigandine adorned men. Unified armaments and weapons of grand scale war. An army as truthfully as the word could be told. They marched in rows of four towards the village while a small spout of hundreds marched on the bandits.
Ash and the Elder made their way to the gate as the world seemed to brighten under the dawn.
"Temujin!" A jolly little man called from the forefront of the formation.
"Lord Maren!" The Elder called back as he slowly surmounted the gatehouse ladder. "It is a pleasure to see you so early."
Ash got to work on the gate coil. She spun the great oak disk and raised the gate for the Baron's men. They flooded in at his back.
"It seems we aren't truly needed. You dealt with them remarkably, where is ser Carolet? He is deserving of honours for this feat." The Baron chuckled as he met Ash and the Elder atop of the gatehouse. He shook the Elder's hand and bowed to Ash but gave her little regard beyond.
"Ser Carolet gave his life in the fighting." The Elder quietly said.
"Oh... I see. One final victory for the old soldier, then." The baron bowed. "Did he die well?"
"Injured, unarmoured and unarmed, yet he still managed to take half a dozen with him." The Elder smiled painfully.
"We will see him taken care of, my friend." The baron swore.
"Thank you, my lord." The Elder bowed his head.
"Oh, don't call me 'my lord'. I'm an up jumped sergeant with big house, no kind of lord." He smiled warmly. "And who might you be, my lady?" He asked of the blood soaked Ashtik. She stuttered for some kind of reply, but thankfully the Elder answered for her.
"This is Ashtik Sai-Weleg, called 'The Sparrow-Knight'. She led our defences." The Elder introduced.
"Ser Carolet led the defences!" Ash protested.
"Do not give a corpse your credit," the Elder sternly interrupted. "Ser Carolet committed many great deeds in his life, he doesn't need his last to be a stolen act."
"This girl led your defences?" The Baron asked. Shock and confusion bled from his great brown eyes. "Why in the worlds would you grant her the lead?"
"Show him, Ashtik." The Elder ordered.
"But..." Ash tried to protest, but she quickly decided better under the two men's imperious glances. She raised her left hand and exposed her black steel gauntlet to the baron.
"Aye, she has an impressive smith? What of it?" The baron said impatiently.
"Look closer, my lord." The Elder urged. He did. He took her hand into his. She sullied him with blood, but so entranced was he that he barely noticed. His eyes fixed upon her and basked in the supposed abyssal sparrow. A fateful look replaced his suspicion. Awe and something more... Reverence?
"It can't be." The baron whispered.
"The bishop is in Duke's crossing. If you send for her, we can have her summon a witness." The Elder suggested.
"The bishop is in my keep, Temujin." Baron Maren corrected.
"Already?"
"Aye, she claimed to have Conclave business in the area." Maren confirmed. Both men turned their gazes at Ash. They didn't say it, but their thoughts were obvious. She was this Conclave business.
Maren sighed and leant against the gatehouse arrowslit. He seemed to study the remnants of the clearing.
"Your people can't stay here, Temujin." He finally sighed. "I'll put my men to work on reconstruction. In the meanwhile, your people are welcome to a place in my walls."
"A generous offer, my lord. Thank you." Temujin bowed.
"Maren... Not lord." The baron corrected with a tired chuckle.
"My apologies, Baron Maren." The Elder replied. It made Ash chuckle slightly, which seemed to make the Elder silently furious. Fortunately, the baron saw the humour in the accidental jape.
"Sparrow-knight, was it?" Maren smiled. He didn't look her in the eyes, though neither did she. His gaze was fixed on her mark, and hers; anywhere but on this stranger.
"Just Ashtik, or... Ash, my lor- Baro- Maren!" Ash stammered. He lacked the grace to stifle his laugh at her uncomfort. It brought an embarrassed blush to her, though he couldn't tell past all the blood and dirt.
"Very well, Ashtik. Are you well enough to ride?" He asked.
"Yes." She simply replied. Her brevity caught him by surprise.
"Very well. We travel when your village is ready." He laughed.
"May I leave now?" She asked of the Elder who smiled and nodded.
----------------------------------------
She was uninterested in the rest of their conversation. She wanted away from the terrible pit in her belly that had grown larger with every word she had spoken. She passed by a dozen soldiers as they rounded up the bandit corpses. None of them paid her any mind and she was glad of it.
Evara sat over the miller's daughter with her hands alight. She sealed some petty wound on the other girl's calf.
"Ev." Ash simply, and awkwardly, whispered.
"Ash!" Evara bounced from the ground. She charged headfirst into Ash's belly and held her tight enough to spurt a jet of blood from her hip wound. "You're hurt!" Ev cried. She tore Ash's armour up and exposed her hip to the open air. The wound had aggravated through the day. It was thrice the width it had first been and blood dried all around it.
"I'm fine." Ash lied.
"Shut up." Evara huffed. She placed her hands over the wound, only they were much too small to cover its entire width. A golden warmth shone from within and without. The flesh tried to stitch itself back together under her hands. Ash kept a close watch of Evara as she used her power. It drained her quickly. She saw sweat dripping down Evara's brow, despite the autumnal morning air.
"Stop." Ash whispered. She wiped the sweat from her sister's face before taking her little hands into her own.
"I can keep going." Evara breathlessly insisted.
"I know; stop anyway." Ash smiled. She stood slightly to Evara's side and placed a steady hand on her shoulder. It was less than a moment before Ev collapsed, and Ash was ready to hold her up. She wrapped an arm around Ev's shoulders and stroked a hand over her head. She was burning up from the exertion.
"Huh?" Ev meekly sighed.
"Morning sleepy." Ash quietly laughed.
"Argh," Ev grunted. "Did I collapse again?"
"Like a sack of beans." Ash teased. "Are you steady?"
"Yeah." Ev lied. She took back her own weight, but her legs were useless. She wobbled for a moment until practicality beat her pride and she leant back on Ash. She took a few deep breaths, then a few more. Then she rounded a fist into Ash's arm.
"What were you thinking?" She shouted. Ash still held her steady, despite the onslaught of little punches.
"What?" Ash half laughed.
"Don't laugh!" Ev shouted. "You could have died! You went into their camp and you didn't even say goodbye!"
"I didn't want to worry you." Ash said with a forced smile.
"No, you didn't think!" Ev snapped. "What if you had died out there?"
"I didn't die, though." Ash insisted. Her hands moved to Ev's face but the young girl pushed them away.
"Oh, so that's alright then!" Ev grunted. Red rage filled her cheeks and a tear welled in her eye. She looked Ash up and down, her eyes sticking to each splatter of blood and dirt. She seemed to swallow her world-shattering wrath for a moment as she gripped at her skirt. "Do you need some time, or can I be mean?" She finally whispered.
"Let it out, Ev." Ash smiled.
"Thanks." She smiled back. Her lips curled and writhed quickly into a vicious frown. "Never do something that... Fucking... imbecilic again!" She shouted. "I don't care if you really are some fucking chosen one; if the villains don't end you, I will. Swear it, Ash. Swear you'll never do something that... fucking stupid again!" She demanded. Ash had to mask a giggle with a cough each time Evara made an attempt to swear. It came out so awkwardly, like the word was cumbersome on her tongue.
"I can't promise I won't act a fool, Ev. It's just an inevitability. Not all of us are as measured and wizened as you." Ash teased. It only angered her sister further.
"Fine, then swear to me that you won't kill yourself for anybody. No noble acts of self-sacrifice. No heroic deaths. Please." Ev begged.
"Deal." Ash simply replied.
"Deal?" Ev doubted.
"I swear I won't sacrifice my life for anybody... But you of course." Ash said.
"Just like that?" Ev continued to doubt.
"I'm not a solider, Ev. I have no intention of dying. I just want to get back to being a huntress. Once the conclave says I'm not a Champion, we can move on from all this shite." Ash laughed.
"Hang on... You still don't think you're the champion?" Ev laughed.
"You said Champions are exemplars of single traits. Paragons of some virtue or vice. What am I a paragon of?"
Ev sighed and looked her sister over in complete disbelief. She looked at the gauntlet and must have noticed its gradual spread.
"If I had to guess," Ev laughed. "You're the paragon of dumbassery."