Florette XI: The Kindness of the Night
Florette scrambled to the top of the decaying ruins of Glaciel’s tower, trying to get a better view of the two spirits talking to each other, but Glaciel was already out of sight above the lip of the crater.
Fine. I could always try to jump back.
Judging by the distance, though, there wasn’t much chance of that unless the Ring of Glaciel also gave her super jumping powers. I mean, maybe? Florette willed power from her foot and sprang into the air.
Exactly as far as she normally would have. She barely even managed to keep her footing on the landing.
Khali’s curse, I have to be part of this conversation. The idea was that Glaciel would ream out Levian for destroying her castle and stuff, ideally removing him from the fight entirely while exposing herself.
Left to themselves though, they might just talk it out like adults and ruin the whole thing. Nor would anyone be in a good position to go after them while they were out in the open.
Florette had the ability to incite them to anger, that much she was sure of. She’d already managed it with both of them.
But what good is that if I’m stuck in a pit? She pounded her fist into her leg with impotent frustration. Plan ahead, Florette! How many fucking times do you need to learn this lesson?
She rubbed her hands, trying to warm up her mind. I can’t make the jump, so there’s no point in trying that. The Hiverriens just had Glaciel make a bridge whenever they wanted to sortie, so they didn’t leave anything for me.
It was, she supposed, technically possible that the tunnel she’d used to get out before was still there. After all of the fighting and disruption and re-shaping of the ice and waves and explosions and…
Not bloody likely. Even if it were somehow still there, Hiverriens were spread out across the ground in battle formation, regrouping after the destruction to the castle. Unless I can pull a Robin Verrou and fight like thirty of them at once to get through, it doesn’t even matter if the tunnel’s intact.
But it did give her one idea, however unlikely.
“Corro, did you come back?” she called out, without much hope. Glaciel had shredded through him, even with all the power he’d gained from the explosion. He’d barely escaped, and it wasn’t fair to expect him to stick around after.
One of the Hiverriens must have heard her, because she had to duck out of the way of a javelin in response, but Corro was definitely gone.
“Fallen?” she tried again, with even less hope. “Fallen?”
This was an active battlefield, filled with probably dozens of revenge killings, all the more once people on both sides began to lose their comrades. The Fallen would be filled with power from it, certainly, but constantly pulled to the latest source. They had made that much clear, that they wouldn’t be able to contribute much directly.
And yet…
A murky white figure jumped from the edge of the hole, solidifying as they fell.
Florette reached out and grabbed Cassia Arion’s hand as she slammed against the side of the tower, then pulled the Fallen up to her perch beside her. “You came!”
“I can’t stay long.” Perimont snorted. “Bloody animals are killing each other by the dozens. It’s quite a sight to see. I haven’t acquired this much power since the Foxtrap. First the geckos wanted to avenge their brethren, then Glaciel’s children had grievances of their own from the battle, their comrades, then back again to the Imperials…”
Are you seriously taking pleasure in this? “You must feel so strong.”
Perimont shook his head, sneering. “On the contrary, it is the battlefield where I am at my weakest. The fallen join one by one, flowing in with barely a minute between them. It takes all my concentration to maintain what I am, to hold onto such self as I have. If you have ever found it difficult to be a good person, Florette, and I believe you have, I encourage you to imagine facing the same challenge when every revenge-killing on a night full of them fills you with power and chips away at your sense of self.” Their face took on the burned cast of the nameless man Florette had stabbed on the beach. “When I was with Lamante, she centered me. She helped make sure I could hold on to what I am. The Foxtrap was my first great battle without her, and it took everything I had. I had hoped there would never be another.”
“I’m sorry. I misjudged you.” Florette reached out and patted the burning figure’s shoulder, unharmed by the char and flames. “You and Lamante were apart that long? I thought— Well, it doesn’t matter. I was hoping you could help get me out of here so I can talk to Levian and Glaciel.”
Perimont raised a judgemental eyebrow. “Should I start with the fact that you want to present yourself before two spirits who both want you dead, or the fact that you jumped into a hole with no plans for how you’d get out?”
It hurts worse when they’re right. “If you could start by helping, that would be even better. But I understand if it’s too much to ask.”
“Hmm.” Perimont stroked his chin, looking every inch the scheming, imperialist villain he’d been in life. “I can’t take you with me when I feel the call. That’s not how it works. So we only have until the next one slain in vengeance. Perhaps one after, if I can hold myself back, but that won’t be easy.”
“Is there anyone whose form you can take? I know…” You can avoid thinking about it all you want, but that doesn’t make it less true. “I’ve been fighting with the Hiverriens for weeks, and Corro and I just exploded a building full of them. There’s no way that they all lived.” It was easier to think that, each small step at a time, but easier doesn't mean right.
The Fallen smiled, quickly cycling through four or five faces that Florette couldn’t recognize at all, each with a slight pale cast to their skin, but none of the upper ring descendants. “I was waiting to see if you would acknowledge us. You know all too well that the spirit-touched remain people.” They settled on a tall woman with slightly shiny skin, the iciest-looking so far. Experimentally, the Fallen waved their hands over the ice, but it didn’t move. “We are too weak. The strong survive, just as Queen Glaciel preaches. Those with the power to move ice could also draw upon its sustenance. None of the superior upper-ring descendants perished in your pathetic attack.”
Great, so I preyed on the weakest and left the biggest bastards alive. “Shit. I appreciate you coming, anyway. Maybe you could relay a message, at least? If the Fox-King’s alive, he needs to go for the throat now. This is the moment. And tell him that I arranged a signal. I don’t know if it’ll work; I heard that all the boats capsized, but maybe…”
Telling Renart would be dangerous, as far as what it meant afterwards, but for any of that to matter, they first had to survive the night. Ugh, what fucking mess. “You know what? No. I have to fix this. I started so much of it.”
“No one you murdered has the power to get you up there on the time scale you’re looking for.” Perimont folded his arms. “But it is within my ability to call the form of another of the fallen, one whom you never even met. Someone with the fell sorceries to remedy this. It will consume far more power. Always more, the more distant from the memories of the living. I won’t be able to do much afterwards.”
“Oh, fuck yes! Thank you!” Who, though? Another spirit? It did seem logical that the Fallen would take on spirit appearances when alone in their company, though it was hardly certain. Honestly, it didn’t really matter as long as they could help.
“This is the course you wish to take? By the same ability, I could call someone who could get you to safety.”
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“No, that wouldn’t fix anything.”
“Very well. Please turn around.”
“Turn around? What, is it a state secret?”
“Please,” Cassia calmly asked. “It would make things much more difficult for me if you saw.”
Score one for the spirit theory, then. Perhaps their true form would just melt Florette’s eyeballs if she saw it, or something. It was hard to really put anything past spirit anatomy.
“I really appreciate this, Fallen,” she said, her back turned. It felt great, someone having her back again, even if they were judgemental. But all that went for Fernan too, and he still managed to be the best friend anyone could ask for. He backed me up on this audacity and almost died for it. That couldn’t be for nothing.
“It’s no trouble for me at all, Florette. That’s not the issue. It just takes more energy to resist the pull. All of it has a cost, always. You forget that at your peril.” The sound of splashing water filled the air for a moment, probably the Fallen doing their thing but possibly something Levian-related above seeping down. I really hope I’m not too late when I get there.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve jumped into a situation you weren’t ready for. You must take care that it doesn’t become a habit, lest it damage you permanently. Or worse. You’ve shown that you’re capable, but only in the moment. Use your compassion, let it guide you.”
It felt strange to hear the Fallen speak without berating her for once. Are they expending more energy to speak as themselves, rather than the dead? Or was this random dead person just way more polite than any of the people I’ve killed?
Perhaps it was neither, and Arion and Perimont just had reason to hate Florette particularly. That would certainly make sense on its own.
Either way, it was nice.
“You can turn around now,” the Fallen said, using Cassia Arion’s voice again, and so Florette did.
A thin rod of ice stretched all the way from where they were standing to the edge of the pit, no larger than a log. Anchored in the tower, it flowed out into a taper so quickly that it didn’t really look firm enough to hold her weight. But Florette had an edge there, and apparently the Fallen already knew about it.
“I cannot thank you enough for this, Fallen.” Florette pulled them into a quick hug, belatedly realizing the strange wrongness of embracing the body of someone she’d stabbed to death. “Really, it means a lot.”
Cassia nodded, a slight smile on her face. “I have to go, and so do you. I’ll see you after the battle, so long as you survive it.”
“Yeah, see you then.”
As the Fallen faded away into the sky, Florette gingerly tested the escape pole with her foot, making sure to use the one with the ring on it. Almost certainly because of that, it seemed to hold her weight, even when she lifted the other foot. But since hopping across it was out, Florette shuffled across slowly and carefully, making sure the entirety of her weight was never her normal foot, already aching and cold in its boot.
A sword pointed at her face once she crested the edge of the pit, but it pulled back once its wielder saw she was human. The man was armored, a symbolic viaduct sewn onto the fabric of his sodden clothes. Weary shadows traced around the edges of his eyes. “Florette de Montaigne?”
“I mean, kind of. I never took that for my name, but I am from the mountains so—Look, can you point me to where the spirits are talking?”
The man stared incredulously for a moment, then pointed behind her. Past the pit, at the far shore of the island, an eight foot ice giant was putting her weight on an enormous spear, eerily still. Across from her, a scaly head with slitted blue eyes peered up from the edge of the water.
“Ah, thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
“Sire Miro Mesnil de Torpierre, fair lady. If you need an escort from the battlefield, I’d be happy to arrange it for you.”
Hah! “Do as you like, but I have business with Glaciel and Levian.”
“I—” He cut himself off, mouth agape. “This is our one reprieve. King Lucien’s regrouping us into stable battle lines as we speak. If you’re part of that, you need to be in formation, not shortening the very brief time we have to try to save ourselves.”
“Well, I’m skipping to the ‘save ourselves’ part. Nice to meet you.” She kicked herself into a slide, traveling around the castle pit towards the hopefully-currently-arguing spirits. Of course I’d come up on exactly the wrong side, too.
Luckily, with Glaciel’s ring, it still didn’t take too long to make it there. Florette used the Cloak of Nocturne as she approached, trying to hear as much as she could before she made her move.
“...depths of your ingratitude. If you have no more desire for my aid, simply say so, I shall depart.” Levian’s voice rumbled deep, the water shifting and splashing to accent every sound.
“If destroying my domain is what you consider aid, Torrent of the Deep, then there is scarce cause to wonder why your sages keep dying.” Glaciel’s tone was almost as windy and confident as it ever had been, but not quite. She was feeling pressured.
And good. Whether Florette could survive their duel or not depended on something totally outside of her control. But making it count, putting her out of the fight… The more off-balance she was, the better.
“Leclaire lives, due to my intervention. I sent her forth to carry out my will, to spread my influence across the homeland of your precious fox-girl and sacrifice those heretical invaders by the thousands. She remains useful to me, while you, should you find yourself exiled by those humans you love so much, or incinerated by Flammare, have nothing to offer at all.”
Florette had to stifle a laugh. Yup, just as much of an asshole. Considering Camille fell under his sway when she was like eleven, it was really remarkable that she could even be as functional as she was.
A dark part of her wondered what would happen if she told Levian about exactly how well Camille was carrying out his will, but there were basic standards of decency to hold to, even for haughty aristos.
“I must regain what was taken, for myself and by myself. Cease with your violent encroachments on my domain until I finish crushing the lowly insect who stole it from me.” That got a smile out of Florette, because how could it not? I maimed a centuries-old spirit today, and she deserved the shit out of it. If only there were more time to savor that before the inevitable moment Glaciel tried to kill her for it.
“What do you want, Glaciel of Hiverre? The humans arrayed against you occupy your domain. Shall I sit here and wait for them to leave? Do you wish that I spend my energy drowning the lone vessel of humans left alive at sea, already on the verge of capsizing?” Levian snarled. “I loathe those who waste my time. You do not want to earn my disdain, Glaciel. By the terms we have set, I could drag this entire island under. Weak as you are, I doubt you would offer much resistance.”
The pull to Nocturne from the Cloak was strong, but that news sent a pulse of life through Florette, allowing her to hang on longer. If that’s the boat I think it is, I might just have a chance.
“By the terms we have set, I could freeze you in place and leave you to watch as I win without your help. We who possess true strength must know when best to wield it, and conflict between us helps neither of our aims. It only emboldens the Spirit of the Hearth and arms him for his grand designs. What do you expect he will do with the cause of Pantera’s death?”
Levian grumbled softly, but didn’t respond with words.
“Continue as you were, untouchable within your domain, and there need be no dispute between us. I know not why you even stopped.”
“The human-spawn with your toe,” he snarled. “She must die before I leave your icy rock alone.”
“She will,” Glaciel declared, sharp wind emphasizing her words. “But it was I that felt her bite at my heels.” The air cracked sharply, sending an echo across the ice. “Hold yourself back for the few minutes it will take me to find and end this miscreant thief, and begin the assault anew. Once my domain is secured, the city is yours to drag into the depths.”
Florette gulped. Uh oh. Looks like that reprieve is coming to an end. Still, in a way it was good that she was the focus. If she could lead Glaciel away, that would delay Levian too. With the ring on her foot, the mobility to do that might even be achievable. And then with the boat…
“Very well. The human-spawn you seek is close by, hiding under a scrap of Khali’s skin.” Levian flicked his tail under the water, sending a cold splash onto Florette with perfect accuracy.
“Oh fuck,” she muttered as her concentration broke, forcing her to withdraw from Nocturne lest she succumb to its pull.
By the time Florette wiped her eyes and shook herself slightly-less-wet, Glaciel was already striding towards her, the tip of her spear aimed squarely at Florette’s head.
Well, nothing else for it now. “Queen of Hiverre, Chancellor of Winter, Glaciel, I challenge you to a duel.”
The wind howled with unmistakable laughter. “You are lucky, girl. Thousands have died at my hand and faded unremembered into the depths of your pitiful history. But you…” Her face twisted into a wide grin. “Minstrels will sing of your folly for generations. I’ll ensure it, if need be. And the tale shall end with the unspeakable torment you are about to endure, knowing you brought it all upon yourself.”
Shivering, wet, and exhausted, Florette drew her sword, staring white death in the face.