CHAPTER 4.5: MERCY AND MISERY
“Life begets life, that is truth and it applies to everything, including the Aether. All around us are spirits, beings born of our discarded thoughts and nurtured by our actions. They are tiny gods who dwell anywhere we’ve touched, reflecting us and how we treat the world. Know this and the burden that comes with it.” - The Hill Witch Silinith, guardian of the Tuadea standing stones.
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Holding up the amulet, Natalie ignored the numb cold spreading to her fingers from the sacred symbol. She really, really hoped she wouldn’t drop it. “My companion is Cole Rest-Bringer, Paladin of Master Time! I spoke the truth. We were hunting the Ghouls and had no knowledge you were here. Please! Let us go free and end this madness!”
Seeing the amulet, the Werewolves hesitated and looked at each other. The Matriarch squinted her eyes and came forward. The largest of the Wolves put out a massive clawed paw to stop the Matriarch. She swatted it away and approached Natalie. Looking at the amulet and down at the wounded Cole, the Matriarch asked. “Tell me, why is a Paladin traveling with a Vampire?”
Gritting her teeth, Natalie glanced at the Wolves. “He is helping me, protecting me and others from my nature. Again, not that any of this is your business.”
Touching the amulet Natalie held out, the Matriarch chuckled. “True, but your words might just convince me to spare you. Surely that has some merit, Little Leech?”
The Matriarch gripped the amulet and tried to pull it from Natalie’s fingers. Letting out a furious hiss, Natalie yanked the amulet away. Leaving the elder Werefolk standing just a step away with an amused expression.
“I see holding it hurts you,” the Matriarch remarked. “Yet you won’t surrender it. Why?”
Glancing at the amulet and ignoring the fact she couldn’t feel her hand anymore, Natalie said. “It's important to him. That’s reason enough.”
Musing on those words, the Matriarch stepped back and gestured at the Werewolves. “Jaks, Jokin, grab one of our spare cots. Oh, and Ametza, be a dear and find my medicines.”
The smallest Werewolf looked questioningly at the Matriarch but seemed to decide better to question the Pack leader. The trio of Werewolves loped back towards the wagons and left Natalie and the old woman alone. The Matriarch spat onto her palm and held out a hand to Natalie. “I am Madam Kistine Shohgard, First Mother of the Shohgard Pack.”
Natalie looked at the spit-stained hand and realized this was some strange form of greeting. “You can’t be serious? After all that, you want to shake hands and pretend nothing happened. You almost killed me, and your pack savaged Cole!”
Kistine rolled her eyes. “Would you prefer I let my family finish their hunt? Or would you like to stop wasting time and let me see to your mate?”
Natalie spat onto her hand or at least tried to. Her body produced just enough moisture for her throat and mouth to work but wouldn’t waste any energy on anything more complicated. Still, Natalie figured the gesture was more important than the actual saliva and shook the Matriarch’s hand.
Nodding her head at Natalie, Kistine broke the handshake and shuffled over towards Cole. Natalie was tense and ready to spring into action but sensed no malice from the old woman. Clicking her tongue, Kistine bent over Cole, her legs clearly straining from the effort. “I’m sorry Little Leech. The damage is bad, I will do the best I can, but I’ll make no promises.”
Natalie was uncertain of what to say. She didn’t want to reveal what Cole could do to this stranger but wasn’t about to pass up getting Cole's help. Eventually, Natalie said. “Help him. He’s stronger than you’d think.”
Eyeing Natalie, the Matriarch nodded and looked up to her returning relatives. Two men in their late twenties, brothers by the looks of it, carried a simple cot and tent between them. They wore loose baggy clothing over lanky muscled bodies. Trotting behind them was a short woman barely out of her teens in similar clothing carrying a child-sized crate with ease.
The trio never seemed to take their eyes off Natalie but said nothing. Eyes that disturbingly hadn’t changed at all between their Lupine forms in their humanoid ones. Setting the cot down, the brothers lifted Cole onto it. Carefully following their Aunt Kistine’s directions to not further injure the Paladin. The girl, Ametza, Natalie guessed. Set the crate next to her mother and hovered nearby, her eyes flitting between Kistine and Natalie. This close, Natalie could see the scores of scrapes, cuts, and bruises covering the three Werewolves. They’d healed quickly but still sported evidence of the fight. Ametza, in particular, looked to be in bad shape. A red stain was spreading along her clothes, and Natalie could smell the fresh blood. The silver-tipped short sword had done grisly work. Something Natalie tried not to feel too proud about.
With Cole secure, the brothers started setting up a tent around him while Kistine got to work. She opened up the crate, revealing its lid to be a complicated bit of woodwork. Unfolding into a simple but effective surgical station. Natalie took a moment to admire the craftsmanship. The intricate grooves for instruments and the built-in porcelain wash basin. Simple but elegant pictograms of medicinal plants framed the surgery cart. From its inside, Kistine pulled out bandages, a bottle of something so pungent Natalie could smell it through the cork, and a bundle of instruments.
Jaks continued setting up the tent while Jokin brought over a pail of freshly boiled water. With Ametza’s help, Kistine got Cole’s clothes off. Stripping him down and revealing the full extent of the damage. Kistine’s eyes widened when she saw the scars covering Cole. She looked at Natalie and the collar of feeding scars around Cole’s neck. Natalie hurriedly shook her head and explained. “Those aren’t from me.”
Unconvinced but unwilling to press the issue, Kistine got to work. Using the harsh-smelling chemical, she cleaned Cole’s wounds and started sewing them shut. Natalie only spared glances at the whole operation. The sight of Cole’s nude form, his gruesome injuries, and the smell of blood was playing havoc with her mind. Sending all sorts of mixed signals, she didn’t want to even start to decipher.
So she leaned against a nearby tree, watching the operation from a distance. Kistine would occasionally sprinkle handfuls of odd powder onto Cole’s wounds or pause in her work to whisper words in a cracking raspy language. By now, a tarpaulin was strung from the nearby trees, forming a crude tent around Cole and the others. The light of the campfire was completely obscured, and Natalie just then realized how dark it was inside the tent. Even her senses were trammeled by the night. About to say something, Natalie stepped closer to Kistine. Only then, realizing the woman’s eyes were shut.
Kistine looked almost asleep. Her mouth whispered a constant string of foreign words while her hands danced in a never-ending waltz between the surgical station and Cole’s body. In the dark, Natalie could see faint wisps of something floating around Kistine’s hands. Flickers of light like you might see after hitting your head. Drifting about the old woman’s digits in uncertain patterns. A strange pressure was building in Natalie like something was pressing on her entire body. Glancing around, she noticed the Werewolf brothers had hung strange fetishes at the Tent’s corner, and now, with the campfire illuminating the tarpaulin, she could see strange sigils inscribed on the fabric.
This was more than crude surgery. Magic was at work here, but not any Natalie recognized. Upon that realization, a fickle gut reaction told Natalie to interrupt what was happening, but she shoved it down. Her acute senses told her the flow of blood had almost completely stopped from Cole’s injuries. Whatever Kistine was doing, it was working.
The night burned on, with the Wolf brothers bringing new buckets of water and Ametza occasionally taking over to give Kistine a break. Eventually, with an exhausted sigh, Kistine stepped away from Cole and dunked her hands in the soapy basin Jaks had just filled. The woman looked like she’d aged another decade, the exhaustion wearing on her. Opened her eyes and blearily blinking at Natalie as she spoke.
“The Spirits doubt he will live through the night. I stopped the internal bleeding and stitched his most grievous wounds, but it's not enough. Your partner has lost much blood, and I fear infection will take hold. My Tutelaries did what they could, but strange magic covers him. The Spirits shy away from him, and coaxing even the tamest of them to help was difficult. I’ve never seen anything of the like. I guess you weren’t lying about him being a Paladin.”
In the darkness, Natalie could see flickers of regret cross the old woman’s face. Her pack had attacked and possibly killed a Holy Warrior. An act the Gods would not look favorably on. Seeing that fear, Natalie was tempted to tell them the truth about Cole but knew it wasn’t her secret to tell. But whatever Shaman-magic Kistine had worked sensed Cole’s strangeness, and the Matriarch had assumed it was due to him being a Paladin. Natalie wasn’t going to dissuade Kistine of that notion, and it could still give Natalie a reasonable explanation.
“He is blessed by Master Time. Death and he are old friends. He will live; just give him time to heal.”
Kistine gave Natalie a small, sad smile. Clearly, thinking Natalie was in denial. ‘Oh, if she only knew.’ the Vampire mused. Kistine looked at the unconscious Cole and grimaced. “I am sorry for this, Little Leach. Such senseless blood-shed is too common in these lands. I’m ashamed my family has contributed.”
Frowning at Kistine, Natalie spat. “My name is Natalie, not ‘Little Leech.’ You jumped to an ugly conclusion, and the only reason you didn’t pay for it is Cole’s mercy. I watched the fight with your nephews, and I’ve seen Cole fight greater monsters. He only suffered these injuries because of your family's bloodlust and my foolishness.”
The Werewolves flanking Kistine bristled at Natalie’s words. Not taking kindly to Natalie’s razor-words. Letting some of her anger boil up, Natalie hissed at the brothers. “You have all your limbs and aren’t frozen solid. Count yourself lucky!”
Cowed by the righteous fury on Natalie’s face, the Wolves looked at each other and backed down. Taking a deep breath, both calming and pointless. Natalie looked at Kistine. “I thank you for your aid… It has been a troubling past few days; let us try and move forward from this mess.”
Nodding in agreement, Kistine dismissed her relatives back to the main camp. “We will provide whatever food or medicine we can for the Paladin, but we won’t be as accommodating to you. Is that a problem?”
Rolling her eyes, Natalie bitterly remarked. “I have no intention or desire to feed on your pack. If need be, I can hunt these woods for game.”
That seemed to remove some tension from the Shaman. Raising a spindly finger, she pointed at Natalie’s short sword. “I… know I’ve no right to ask, but where did you get that weapon?”
Glancing at the scabbard strapped to her waist, Natalie shrugged. “A relative gave it to me when I left home. Something passed down through his family, he said.”
Nodding at that, Kistine asked, “May I see it? I wish to confirm something.”
Looking over at the resting Cole, Natalie unsheathed the weapon and handed it to Kistine. While the bitter rage in her wanted to spite the old woman, Natalie knew she needed to be better than that. The Werefolk were trying to play nice, so she should meet them at least halfway.
Holding the short sword, Kistine wrapped her fingers around the guardless hilt and examined its polished blade. Returning it to Natalie, she remarked. “I wonder if the Gods are involved and if they are, which ones. Whoever it is, they have a sick sense of humor.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Cocking an eyebrow, Natalie asked. “What do you mean? Do you know this weapon?”
Shaking her head in the negative, Kistine let out a small bitter laugh. “No, but I’ve seen ones like it. That weapon is a Misoria Blade. A tool of cruel mercy.”
Looking at the weapon, Natalie repeated the word. “Misoria. What does that mean?”
Grimacing, Kistine looked away from the straight blade. “It's Late-Imperial; it means both Mercy and Misery. Depending on the context and what syllable you stress.”
Flipping the weapon over in her hands, Natalie’s mind came up with at least a dozen questions before Kistine started to elaborate. “They are weapons of euthanasia. Tools to kill as an act of final kindness. Crafted from Thunderbolt Iron with their tips dipped in blessed silver. Misorias bring final peace to the dying and the cursed”
Eyeing the weapon, Kistine folded her arms, her bangles clinking as she did. “I know of them only because they share history with my people. Many a Werefolk enslaved by their blood has met their end with these weapons. When I was a little girl… One of my uncles surrendered to his blood and did terrible, terrible things. A Warrior-Priest with one of those ended his life. It's a curious thing you find in your possession, Natalie.”
Sheathing the weapon, Natalie looked back toward Cole. “Thank you for the history, Kistine. I see what you mean about the Gods having a sick sense of humor.”
To Natalie’s surprise, Kistine put a gentle hand on her arm. “I do not mean to add to your grief, young Vampire but remember that weapon's purpose. Particularly if your partner starts to suffer. I’ve seen what a cruel infection can do. A blade thrust is more merciful.”
Stiffening at the morbid suggestion, Natalie nodded. “That won’t be needed, but I understand.”
Grimacing, Kistine pulled her hand back and chose her words carefully. “If the time comes and you need another to grant him peace… I will take that duty upon myself. That is little comfort, I know, but I will still offer it.”
Natalie looked away from the old Werewoman and nodded her head in understanding. With that, Kistine left Natalie. Returning to her pack and leaving the Paladin and Vampire alone in the makeshift tent. Slumping next to the cot, Natalie listened to the sound of Kistine’s shuffling footsteps crunch through the snow. This close to Cole, the smell of his blood was strong. Overpowering the herbs and antiseptic Kistine had used. Shaking her head at the seductive aroma, Natalie was surprised she hadn’t really noticed it till now. A surprising thing considering all the bloodshed and her own expenditures during the fight. Thinking about that, Natalie reached out with her mind to Grist and tried to reanimate him. She didn’t want to leave the skull somewhere in the woods.
A surge of pain hit Natalie like an arrow. A cold clear needle of agony rammed into her side, and she let out a yelp. Breaking her concentration, Natalie reached to the pain’s source. Instead of a sword or arrow sticking in her, she found Cole’s amulet tucked into a dress pocket. Gingerly pulling the small metal hourglass free. Natalie tossed it onto Cole. Careful to only touch the leather cord. The moment the amulet left Natalie’s person, the smell of Cole’s blood became much more intense. Forcing herself to stop breathing, Natalie backed away from Cole, surprised by the suddenness of the sensation.
Grist now answered her call, reforming and loping through the woods towards her, and she felt her blood supply drain as he formed a new spectral body. Glancing at the amulet sitting on Cole’s slowly moving chest, Natalie shrugged. It made sense; if it could knock her out, then having it on her person would stunt her abilities. Grist arrived, and Natalie knelt down to pet the phantom dog. Her fingers felt like they were passing through the cold fog to touch slightly damp fur. Grist seemed to appreciate the attention and let her scratch around his head and neck.
“I’ve never had a dog before.” Natalie mused. Then with a thought, she let the magic end, and Grist’s body faded. Returning him to a skull. Picking up said skull, Natalie went and found her pack and Coles. They’d dropped them before entering the fight, but Natalie had a little issue finding them. Placing the dog skull in her pack, Natalie returned to the tent and let out a deep sigh.
She’d not been looking forward to talking with Cole after facing the Ghouls, but she’d honestly prefer that to seeing him like this. Covered in blood-soaked bandages and barely breathing, Cole looked terrible. Leaning next to a nearby tree, Natalie was reminded of the time she’d found Cole at the Glockmire gates and dragged him home. A small smile at the memory died under another pang of homesickness. Annoyed at her ever-traterious mind, Natalie got up from her seat and moved closer to Cole. Ignoring the appetizing smell, Natalie licked her lips and got on her knees next to the cot.
Leaning over Cole, she placed her head on his chest and shut her eyes. His heart was slow but steady, a powerful drumbeat that she’d grown to associate with safety. Sitting like that, Natalie let out a pained sigh, making sure not to breathe back in the smell of blood. Turning her head, she looked at Cole’s unconscious face. Even in a drugged sleep, he looked pained. The sight made Natalie’s still heart twinge in pain. Without hesitation, Cole had jumped headlong into the jaws of a Werewolf to save her. Even after she betrayed his trust and messed everything up, the stupidly wonderful man hadn’t hesitated to suffer for her.
“I owe you the truth,” she said. “I tried to tell you at the Windmill but let myself be distracted… That sounds like a dumb excuse, I know, but it's true.” shutting her eyes and enjoying Cole’s warmth, she continued. “Okay, I guess what I’m trying to do is practice. I’m practicing my confession. So uh, just feel better, and I’ll do this.”
Feeling fantastically awkward, Natalie had to resist the urge to slam her head into Cole’s chest out of embarrassment. “Okay, so let me make this clear, Isabelle contacted me first. Jag, I sound like I’m making excuses. But she did! When I cut my finger before my Dad's funeral, she made some sort of magical connection. Jumped into my dreams and made me an offer. She would teach me how to be a Vampire, and I would make her a new body.”
“I didn’t take the deal. I don’t trust her. But I got her to teach me a few things. I should have told you then, not kept any secrets, but I didn’t. Partially because I don’t trust her, partially…because I am afraid. Afraid that if you have the option, you will pick her instead of me.”
Pulling her head up and looking at Cole, Natalie sorted through her jumbled thoughts. “When I was little, a boy I knew got a puppy for his birthday. He adored the puppy, named him Chester, and showed him to everyone in the town. But Chester got sick and died maybe two months after the boy got him. Alphonse, that was the boy, he cried for an entire week. Then his parents got him a new Puppy, and he was happy again.”
Swallowing her fear, Natalie made her point. “What I’m trying to say is… Well, am I your second Puppy? Do you love me for me, or am I just a stop-gap? Isabelle seems to think so, and she’s known you for longer than I have. While I don’t trust her, the sneaky bitch. I…I jag, I am afraid. And I let that fear rule me. I hid this whole thing from you, hoping foolishly that somehow you’d never find out. Thinking if Isabelle stayed dead, then I’d never have to learn if I was a replacement.”
Sitting back on her haunches, Natalie felt like she was about to cry. “Then, after the bandits, I hated myself. Losing control was terrible, and I thought maybe Isabelle could help me. It was stupid, but I went to her. I snuck behind your back and tried to get Isabelle’s help. We made a deal. She can talk to me in my dreams and sometimes when I’m awake. While I learn from her. She taught me how to raise Familiars and has promised to teach me more.”
Resisting the urge to take a steadying breath, Natalie leaned forward and placed herself on Cole’s chest again. In a half-whisper, she pleaded. “I’m sorry, Cole. I’m sorry for lying and all of this. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stop the Werewolf and needed your help. I’m sorry if…if I’m not enough.”
To her utter surprise, a large hand rested on her head. Freezing, eyes wide, Natalie reached up to where Cole rested his bloodied left hand on her head. Timidly she asked. “H-how much of that were you awake for?”
A rumbling laugh that turned into a cough escaped Cole. “Enough.”
Sitting up slightly, Natalie looked at Cole. Bleary-eyed and pale, he was conscious. Slowly with shaky fingers, Cole moved his hand to cup Natalie’s chin. Twisting his scarred face in a sad smile, he said. “You are you, Natalie. You are the woman I've fallen in love with.”
Clearing his throat and wheezing slightly, Cole said. “I love Isabelle, true, but I’m not looking for some shade of her in you. Natalie, you’ve helped me feel alive. Like there's more to life than duty. I’ve laughed more with you than I had in ten years. That means more than I can put into words.”
Letting her head fall to his chest and stroking her cheek, Cole continued. “We’ve both been thrown in way over our heads. I knew something was wrong but lacked the words to ask you what. For the past two months, I have been so busy acting as a Paladin. I’ve been an inadequate partner.”
Frowning, Natalie reached up to Cole’s face and traced some of his scars absently. “I’m trying to apologize. I’m the one who messed up, not you!”
Cole tried to shrug and winced in pain at the attempt. “You have been in pain, and from that pain, you made foolish choices. I failed to help remove that pain, so some of the blame falls on me.”
Bewildered, Natalie got up and carefully straddled Cole. Sitting atop him, careful to not hurt him, she looked down at Cole. Despite himself, Cole smiled. He could barely see Natalie in the dark, but the suggestions of a curvaceous form and long silken hair enraptured him. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Natalie almost growled. “You silly, silly man! I messed up, so let me apologize, and don’t take any of this onto yourself!”
Glaring down at him with crimson eyes, Natalie said. “I betrayed your trust, conspired with your half-dead lover behind your back. Lied to you and generally acted like a moody, insecure teenager for the last few weeks! Let me apologize, dammit!”
Slumping down, so her forehead met Cole's, Natalie continued in a gentler tone. “You are not at fault for my screw-ups. Sure maybe in a perfect world, you might have found the right thing to say and help me. You didn’t, but you still tried to help. Which is all you can expect, really. Where I just made a mess of things. These are my mistakes, and I’m trying to fix them. Please let me?”
Enjoying the softness of Natalie’s body pressed against his, Cole nodded in assent. After a moment, Natalie softly said. “I love you, Cole. I’m scared of losing you. I let that fear control me and hurt both of us. Can you forgive me?”
Gently moving her head, so their lips touched, Cole kissed Natalie. A gentle thing, not burning with desire like some previous ones, but a more tender act of affection. “I love you too, Natalie. I can forgive anyone who is worthy, and you’ve shown me you are.”
Breaking the kiss, Natalie felt herself calm down. She’d opened her heart, and Cole had answered in kind. A powerful act, especially after the mess she’d caused. Natalie felt a great weight leave her shoulders. She had to resist the urge to snuggle into Cole, knowing putting too much of her body weight on him would be a bad idea. Still, she seemed to have miscalculated, Cole let out a slight groan, and Natalie pulled herself off of him. Whispering an apology, Natalie curled up next to the cott and put her head and elbows on it.
Looking at Cole, she asked. “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”
After a moment, Cole replied. “Like three Werewolves tried to kill me. So some water would be nice.”
Snorting in amusement, Natalie grabbed a water skin from Cole’s pack and helped him drink. After nearly emptying the almost full skin, Cole let out a relieved sigh and glanced around them. “What happened? I woke up when you put your head on me, but the last I remember was giving you my amulet.”
Gesturing towards the Werefolk camp, oblivious that Cole couldn’t see the gesture, Natalie explained. “They recognized the symbol, and we made nice. One of them is a Shaman and Surgeon of some kind. She treated you but said you wouldn’t make it through the night.”
Cole let out a pained chuckle. “I don’t think I did. It’s probably the only reason I’m conscious.”
Natalie grimaced at that. He was probably right, but it was strange to think about. That Cole might have died while she argued with Kistine or when they later discussed the Misoria Blade. Sobered by that thought. Natalie grabbed the second water skin and went back to Cole.
Looking around the shadowed tent they were in, Cole sighed. “Werefolk, I’ve had little dealings with them. How many do you think there are?”
Seeing Cole shiver, Natalie got to work, starting a small fire, and asked. “It was hard to tell, maybe twenty?”
As the first bit of tinder started to crackle and spark, Cole let out a pleased sigh. “I’m not surprised they didn’t leave a fire. I’ve met Werefolk who walk through blizzards wearing only a loincloth and body hair.”
Gathering what little dry material she could, Natalie fed the small fire and hoped its heat would reach Cole. She’d hate for him to freeze to death or get a cough from this. Not that she’d seen him suffer any from bad weather before. Curiously she asked. “Hey Cole, can you get sick?”
After a moment of thought, he answered. “I think so? But I don’t know for certain. Hmm, maybe not?”
A silken voice from beside Natalie said. “He can’t, at least not for long. His body is stronger than any mundane contagion, and any magical malady will kill him quickly. Letting him reset without their side effects. So no danger of him becoming a Werewolf.”
Jumping up and spinning around, Natalie saw Isabelle leaning against a tree. An amused expression on her noble features. Stunned, Natalie watched as Isabelle strowed over towards Cole and looked at him. Upon seeing him, a flicker of sadness passed over Isabelle’s features, but it quickly faded. “He’s healing faster than I expected. How interesting. Be a dear and convey my love to him, little Natalie.”
Between eye blinks, the phantom Isabelle disappeared. Leaving a shocked Natalie. Realizing something was wrong, Cole asked. “Did you hear something? What is it?”
Uncertainty and fear flickered through Natalie. “You know how I mentioned I made a deal with Isabelle? How she could contact me. Well, she just appeared and said you can’t get sick. She…she also said to give you her love.”
Cole was silent for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh. “Ah. Well… this complicates things.”