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Deathless Beauty
9 - Fugitive

9 - Fugitive

Sunlight glittered on rime-encrusted branches like the sparkle of the most brilliant diamonds as Rúna pushed forward through the snow. Each step broke through the hard crust formed by wind whipping across the white banks, forming an easier path for Terese to follow. The weathered woman followed on Rúna's heels, clinging with one hand to the strap that held the young giant's shield to her back. Ahead, the two strangers from the south awaited by the standing stones. Ash Kordh was home to many megalithic structures from ancient days, some far more expansive and complex than this simple circle of pillars.

Terese tensed, fingers tightening on the leather strap. Her knuckles, red from the cold, turned pale as fear affected her grip. "You must have a care, Rúna," the human woman warned. "They are dangerous."

Rúna stopped under the shade of dark pines, turning to look over her shoulder at her ward's terrified expression. "Do you know them?" she asked, keeping her voice soft to avoid the sound traveling too far. They were downwind from their possible foe, so the frigid breezes would not carry the words to unfriendly ears.

"I do," Terese said. She stopped before speaking more, taking in a shuddering breath. Her blue eyes flicked towards the two waiting. "They were once household servants in the service of a lord of Genev, but they proved most resourceful during the days of the Fire Queen. Ghyslain Roche saw potential in them and had them educated at great expense in the south. Brother and sister are now the most dangerous of his agents."

Rúna now had altogether more questions than answers, bubbling like a roiling pot of water under the lid of her stubborn determination to protect Terese. "The Fire Queen?"

"A rebellion under the banner of a northern war hero," the human woman explained. "It struck down the power of my father, who was once King of Genev. It was itself destroyed when the Fire Queen disappeared alongside the leader of her forces, never to be seen again." There was a bitterness to the twist of Terese's lips. "I wonder how different Genev might have been, had she lived to sit upon that throne."

Rúna made a mental note to ask for a full explanation of the Fire Queen later. More important was this Ghyslain Roche. "They called him the Lord Protector."

Terese grimaced. "A pretty name for a tyrant. Ghyslain is the right hand of King Alesander Thayer, the power behind the scholar-king's throne. They call him Shrike for a reason, after the butcher-birds of the north that decorate their nests with the bodies of the dead. However wicked my father was, however wicked I was, Shrike's evil casts a shadow that drowns ours."

Rúna tightened her sword-hand into a fist. The more she heard, the less she wanted to talk to the two southern warriors. "Then I should fight them," she said, hardening herself to the task ahead, something easier said than done. Combat was a thrill to Rúna, but taking a life was not something she relished.

"They are not quite cut from his cloth," Terese said, putting a hand on Rúna's forearm to stop her from reaching to draw her blade. "Chi has some gentleness to him, even if he is deeply indebted to Ghyslain, and Thema maintains her honor. They serve him, but their personal conduct is far less villainous." She took a deep breath before continuing, "If they wish to return me to the land of my birth, it may be possible that we can persuade them to allow me to seek the King's mercy in place of Shrike's torment."

Rúna pursed her lips at that, even as she turned her eyes back towards the strangers. "Would he listen to us over his own right hand?" she asked. The young giant knew that even if she wore a human form at the moment, their politics were utterly foreign to her, almost to the point of incomprehensibility.

Terese hesitated, contemplating her answer. No doubt she was weighing the odds with an extra dose of care. "I don't know," she admitted. "Last I saw him, Alesander was a man striving to do the right thing to reunite a kingdom bitterly divided. Perhaps there is mercy in his heart to seal my fate without Ghyslain's torturous interference."

The young giant knew she didn't have enough information to decide anything for certain. "I told them I would take you as far south as Ghurga and no further without your permission," Rúna said.

Terese offered her a weary smile. "You are too good to me, angel." She summoned up her nerve and then gave Rúna a nod. "Let us speak to them."

Rúna led the way out of the shelter of the trees, ignoring the pit forming in her stomach. She knew this was probably going to be a plunge that would put her in far over her head.

Ahead, the woman in brigantine and leopard hide prowled back and forth in the snow in front of the fallen stone like the great hunting cat whose skin she wore. Her dark brow furrowed in frustration as she paced and her lips moved as she muttered beneath her breath. Her brother sat on the stone, drumming his fingers on the intricately glazed jar at his belt. He was the one to catch sight of the two approaching. "Thema, it seems the wildling has returned," he said pleasantly in Orcish, the primary language spoken in Ash Kordh. He knew Rúna could understand it as a northerner, even despite her decidedly human appearance. "With company."

Then again, appearances could be deceiving. Rúna was counting on that, in fact.

Thema turned on her heel, hawkish gaze hardening as it settled on Rúna's companion. Her lips twisted as though a sour taste had passed them. "Terese Sagarra, you are wanted on charges of treason," she said, tone sharp and official. "Surrender yourself or I will strike you down here and now."

Terese's grip tightened again on the strap holding Rúna's shield as the woman tried to take solace in the young giant's strength. "I am aware of my situation, Lady Thema," Terese said, a faint tremor of fear in her tone despite her attempt to be resolute. "I have no intention of resisting."

Chi rose to his feet, dusting snow from his thick winter furs. "Good," he said, offering Rúna and Terese a smile. "You always were the sensible type, Your Grace."

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"I do not use a title any longer," Terese murmured.

Thema scoffed at that, a harsh sound made in her throat. She turned her attention to Rúna, sizing up the golden-eyed northerner for any hint of aggression. "And you? Can we expect you to mind your manners as well, wildling?"

Rúna bristled at that. She resented being spoken to like a child or some ill-mannered beast. "Was my diplomacy before so unsatisfying?" she challenged. "Would you prefer a blade in place of words?"

Chi held up both hands, looking altogether more serene than his older sister. "I apologize for Thema's brusqueness. It has been a long journey," he said, enough sincerity in his tone to settle Rúna. It earned him a glare from his sister. "The brashness of a warrior is ill-suited for civil discourse."

Terese put a hand on the young giant's shoulder. Even as a human, Rúna was tall and powerfully built. She looked fearsome in her furs, even with her helm hooked to her belt. The polished steel faceplate, engraved with the runic names of her forebears, bore patterns of feathers around the eye-slits. "This is not a time for swords," the weathered woman said wearily. She offered Rúna a wan smile when the young giant glanced back at her. "We must all face our fates in the end. I suppose I knew that running would only save me so long."

"Why do they want to hurt you?" Rúna asked.

Thema's expression hardened. "Usurping the throne of the rightful king through the use of poison is not typically received with grace."

Terese shook her head slightly. "Are you so certain it was I who nearly took his life, Lady Thema?" she said dryly. "Many desire that seat, you know that better than anyone."

Chi's expression stayed friendly, but his eyes watched Terese's every movement shrewdly. "Given that a court found you guilty, yes. Nor did you endear yourself when you showed such reluctance to name conspirators, even after admitting to the crime."

"Anyone I named would have been put to the question," Terese whispered, a genuine anguish of remembered horrors in her tone. "That is a fate I would wish on none, not even the torturers themselves."

Thema's lip curled. "The tears of a crocodile weep for mercy too," she muttered, turning to face her brother. "Let us take her and be done with this ridiculous quest. I have better things to do than track down the Lord Protector's every stray."

"And the northerner?" Chi said, his gaze evaluating as it came to rest on Rúna. "I presume you intend to accompany us at least to Ghurgha. That is what you said."

"We will see what the orcs think of your business in their lands," Rúna said. To her, the entire affair tasted worse than a week-old seal carcass. If this was only a hint of the corruption in humans, she was going to be sick indeed. When she looked at Terese, she didn't see a trace of a conniving poisoner. Was she being foolish or could she see the woman more clearly, without the shadows of the past?

She had promised Terese her protection, and she was not about to be an oath-breaker. Besides, whatever was true, Rúna knew her own fate waited for in the lands of men to the south. The soothsayers had spoken. Someone would have to unwind and uproot the traces of corruption from the unknown evil that she had seen in her visions. Perhaps it was not so far removed from Terese as Rúna hoped.

"We will mind our business and the orcs will mind theirs," Chi said with a shrug. He eyed Rúna carefully, like a man encountering a wolf for the first time. "We need not be enemies, even if you are guarding a known criminal. You said your name was Rúna, yes?"

"It is," Rúna confirmed, returning his gaze with one just as wary.

"I am Chi Koroma," he said. "A fire-speaker trained in the Ashen Tower." He rapped his knuckles on the polished jar tied to his belt, the gold of its inlay gleaming brightly in the winter sun. "This is Faruq. You would not like to meet him crossly."

Rúna was no mage, but she could feel the flow of Creation far more accurately than a human. The weave of existence near that jar seemed abruptly severed, the clay forming more of a barrier than normal to perception. It was not merely closed: it was warded. "Who is Faruq?"

"A djinni, an elemental of smokeless fire," Terese explained tersely. She tensed as she studied the jar, far more aware of the danger contained within than Rúna was. "It is a tradition of magic that flourishes in Ethilir. They train them for war. Fire is a dangerous servant and an unforgiving foe."

Chi chuckled at that. "And a crueler master you will never meet. Not that Faruq minds his collar. I promise you he is well-behaved, so long as everyone around him is as well. A fine peacekeeper."

Thema's shoulders relaxed at that. She picked up her spear. It was shorter than Runa's, with a long and broad blade. It reminded the giant of the atgeir, a hewing spear meant to rend armor with hacking blows, but was not quite the same. The weapon puzzled Rúna. She had never seen such a thing used, though she had seen one like it before on Steinnvor's wall. The giant steel-weaver was a master of arms from further south than the desert kingdoms, boasting trophies from the island jungles to the distant south and the serpent-men who inhabited them.

Rúna hoped she would travel as far as battle-loving Steinnvor had in her youth, though perhaps with less of it spent in bloody strife. They said that the aged giant had wandered like an albatross, gliding across the great seas for years with a calm confidence, traveling to lands no others had dared to see. She was the first to set foot on Western soil, in the dangerous days when the Princes of Iron ruled. It would always be a point of pride that Steinnvor had lived to put the greatest of demons back into the void whence they'd come.

"So where are you from, Rúna?" Thema asked. It sounded less like a friendly overture and more like an interrogation. "You are too well armed to be wilder-folk."

If there was one thing they had taught Rúna since birth, it was that the location of Stormhenge and the nature of her people were not meant for the knowledge of humans. "I am not wild enough?" she said with a dry humor, trying not to let the jabbed question throw her off balance. "I am a child of Ash Kordh. We come in many, many forms. It is a large place."

"True enough," Thema muttered, looking south towards the majesty of Ash Kordh's mountains. The land of the wild reach was not known for being short of mysteries or strange sights. In a place where orcs roamed, dragons soared, and wyrms crushed the bodies of any ships that dared sail the Jagged Coast, the kingdoms of men considered anything possible. "Are we taking the Obsidian Road back?"

"It is safer than trying to pass through anything else," Chi said with a sigh. "I hope you do not take this as an insult, Rúna, but we will need another guide."

"You cannot follow the stars?" Rúna asked with a touch of a smile. She knew better than they did how misleading Ash Kordh's landscape could be. There were valleys that looked a day across, yet took weeks to venture through. Distance was deceptive in Ash Kordh, the primeval wildness twisted in on itself into mazes of magic. A journey could take six months one way and ten years coming back. There were places where the world did not fit and flow as it should have.

The orcs called them khiirdu, tangles. She called them home.

"We leave that to our astrologers, back safe in the south," Chi said with a chuckle. "The poor bastards would be helplessly lost here."

"They're helplessly lost there," Thema said, a brief flicker of amusement dancing across her face. "A lot of rot. Come on, we should get back to the horses before they're eaten."

A thrill of excitement coursed through Rúna. She had never seen a horse peacefully before, but she had heard a great deal about them. She crushed the feeling as quickly as she could. Excitement for seeing a new form of nature took second priority to keeping Terese safe, even with the icy feeling in her gut that she wouldn't be able to protect the weathered woman for long.

Terese gave her hand a squeeze in silent thanks.