CHAPTER 32: NASTY REVELATIONS.
“To say the records about Annoch are spare is an understatement. He’s not even mentioned in the Book of Miracles like some of his siblings are. Much of what I’ve uncovered comes from the Apocrypha of Red Twilight, which only says Annoch fled northwest after Mazkim’s death. As for his capabilities, Annoch seemed especially skilled at twisting minds and cultivating useful thralls. From what Glockmire discovered, it seems likely the Seventh Alukah enslaved entire tribes, using them to escape the eradication of his mother’s influence. I cannot find the reason for Annoch’s hibernation, but from what Lord Glockmire has shared, it seems something forced the Seventh into his current state”- Voivode of Secrets, Bagoas the Younger.
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“Cole! We need your help!”
Eyes snapping open, reaching for his axe, Cole pulled himself from his bedroll and tried to find who roused him. He’d elected to sleep outside, next to the wagon, in case of another attack, and so Natalie could find him if she left Yara’s cell. Clambering out of the tent he usually shared with his partner, Cole found a scared-looking Mina accompanied by a handful of nervous soldiers.
Voice gravely with sleep, Cole asked. “What’s wrong? Where is the attack?”
Shaking her head, Mina gestured towards the fort’s main buildings. “Something wrong with the fort jail; the guard heard strange noises from Yara’s cell, and now they can’t get the door open.”
Ice water filled Cole’s veins, and he ran toward the jail, almost barreling Mina over. Moving faster than he’d thought himself capable but still too damn slow, Cole reached the doors to the fort’s jail. Almost tearing the reinforced door off its hinges, Cole entered the brig and felt a wash of cold power flow over him. A trio of soldiers stood nearby, their breath visible, looks of fear on their faces. In a hard voice, Cole ordered. “Take me to the cell.”
The soldiers complied, and Cole was led down a short flight of stairs and into a hallway covered with hoarfrost. Roughly halfway down the hall, a pair of burly guards held weapons at the ready, protecting the fort’s Priest, who stood near a door leaking icy vapor.
“Move aside!” Cole barked, and to his incredible annoyance, the Priest stepped in his way.
Middle-aged with a poorly kept beard, the servant of Father Sky stood his ground. “I can’t let you enter that room until I’ve completed the Ward! We can’t risk whatever is in their escaping!”
Glaring down at the Priest, Cole growled. “I know what this is, and the threat is already contained.”
Cole recognized the cold power seeping from Yara’s cell and knew what it meant. Natalie’s stigma was active to protect her or someone from her. Whatever the situation was, Cole needed to get inside that cell now. Even if Natalie was fine, simply in torpor, Cole didn’t know how Isabelle would react to the magic, let alone if Yara would handle the arctic temperatures unleashed.
Footsteps from behind Cole caught his attention; Mina had caught up with him and brought Captain One-Fist with her. Heavy bags sat beneath the Captain’s eyes, and his neck pulsed with barely constrained emotion. “What in the world’s name is going on?”
Deciding he didn’t have time for a group discussion or decision, Cole shouldered past the Priest, ignoring his protests, and reached the frozen door. Icy fog leaked from beneath the sturdy wood, and rivulets of ice spread out from its hinges. In a testament to their self-preservation, the two soldiers guarding the cell did not stop Cole as he slammed himself against the frozen door. Ignoring the confused voices and angry shouts around him, Cole threw all his might against the door a second time. With the third blow, the door finally gave way, the ice-damaged wood splintering under Cole’s superhuman strength.
A wall of fog escaped the cell, clearing away to reveal the insanity inside. Thick ice covered every surface, and great spidering patterns of hoarfrost spread out from two figures by the cell’s far wall. Natalie was frozen to the wall, the ice covering her flesh radiating from her body. Laying atop Natalie, half-covered by a thick blanket, was Yara. Both women were splattered with frozen blood, but only Natalie was moving.
Stepping onto the frozen floor, thankful for the Paladin gift that gave him traction on even the slickest ice, Cole ran towards Natalie. Something crunched underfoot, and he paused to find the sound’s source. Isabelle’s box lay smashed open nearby, her skull lying in the open, an ugly crack snaking up from the right eye socket.
The crack of snapping ice pulled Cole’s attention back to Natalie, who was trying to rise from her frozen seat. In a voice shrill with panic, she cried, “Help her! Help them both, please!”
Shoving down his own terror and confusion, Cole moved to Natalie, grabbing Yara from her arms. The girl was cold and limp, feeling far too much like the countless corpses Cole had handled. Frantically opening his Aether-sight, Cole gazed down at Yara, trying to see if she still lived.
Since the start of the plague, Cole gained much experience peering into the Aether to observe dead and dying, but nothing he’d seen quite matched Yara. She was alive, barely, but there was something acutely wrong with her Aetheric presence. Turning from Natalie, Cole moved towards the entrance of the cell. “Mina! Yara’s lost a lot of blood.”
Strong hands took the near-dead thrall from Cole’s arms, and he turned his focus back to Natalie and Isabelle. Scooping up the fractured skull and cradling it to him, Cole reached Natalie’s side. He reached down, ready to help Natalie free herself from the ice, but she batted his hand away. Staring up at Cole with wide, panicked eyes, Natalie babbled. “Don’t free me; I don’t think it's safe.”
Reaching up with a twitchy hand, her fingers blue with frostbite, Natalie pleaded. “Your amulet! I need your amulet!”
Confused and reaching a state well beyond worried, Cole complied, removing the battered metal medallion from his neck. Natalie snatched the blessed amulet, wincing at its touch. Silver sparks started to come from the medallion as Natalie put it on and let out a shuddering sigh. Muttering, her voice barely audible, she said. “Won’t be able to free myself now.”
Staring up at Cole, her eyes unfocused, Natalie almost whimpered. “Help them, please, I’m sorry.”
Cole had never seen Natalie like this, not even his few memories of her first night as a vampire compared to this. There was a desperate terror in her voice and actions that unnerved Cole. Kneeling down, reaching out for her cheek, Cole was shocked when Natalie pulled away, eyeing his hand with obvious fear. A deep frown etched itself onto Cole’s face. “What happened?”
Natalie looked past him towards the cell’s entrance. Following her gaze, Cole found Captain One-fist standing there, his face in a deep scowl. Cole understood Natalie’s meaning; she feared telling him with others present. Standing up, Cole spoke to the Captain. “I need a moment alone with her.”
Grey eyes hard, his face set; one-fist replied. “The fuck you do. Your pet Vampire lost control and murdered that poor girl. I won’t let her out of my sight unless she’s staked or soot.”
Taking a deep breath, forcing himself not to shout, Cole growled. “Yara isn’t dead, and with my amulet, Natalie isn’t a threat to anyone.”
Shaking his head in disgust, One-fist replied. “After losing that much blood and being stuck in this icebox for Pantheon knows how long, she doesn’t have a chance. But that’s beside the jagging point; the Vampire is clearly dangerous; I won’t have that sort of threat within my walls.”
A sense of deja vu struck Cole; events reminded him of the first night he and Natalie spent in Vindabon. Grunting in annoyance, Cole spoke slowly and calmly. “She is marked with a stigma of Master Time; its magic reacted to something. I need to know what activated the stigma, and you are interfering with that.”
One-fist’s expression showed only a little surprise at this revelation, but he didn’t budge. Paladin and Paragon met each other's eyes, neither willing to back down. Finally, Natalie’s weak voice cut through the tension. “Cole, go help Yara and Isabelle, please.”
Looking at her, Cole’s heart broke seeing the utterly wretched expression on Natalie’s face. Unwilling to meet his eyes, she whispered. “I can’t have anyone else die because of me.”
Gritting his teeth, Cole approached One-fist, in a low voice that rumbled like thunder, Cole said. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”
The army captain nodded in the barest sign of understanding, and Cole brushed past him. Unable to look back at Natalie, knowing seeing her would break his nerves, Cole left the brig, Isabelle’s skull clutched protectively under one shoulder. Marching towards the wagon, Cole found who he was looking for easily. Kit was sitting nearby, staring at Cole with interest.
Reaching the Magi, Cole asked. “Do you know any Necromancy?”
A look of genuine surprise washed over the fiddler. “Not really; I understand some of the magical theory but nothing practical.”
Staring past Kit and towards the crystal lantern attached to the wagon, Cole decided desperate times required desperate measures. “Would you like to learn some?”
If Kit looked surprised, now he looked unsettled. “Perhaps? Are you offering? And more importantly, how and why are you offering?”
Staring down at Isabelle’s cracked skull, Cole said. “There is a ritual I need done. I don’t have the ability to do it myself, but with your aid, it might be possible.”
Tapping his chin with undisguised interest, Kit asked. “I’d have to know the details before agreeing to anything.”
Running his fingers along the crack in the cold bone, Cole explained. “A soul is bound to these remains; I need to speak with the soul without damaging her.”
Nodding slowly, Kit chuckled. “I take it I’m finally meeting Isabelle Gens Silva, then?”
An icy glare murdered Kit’s humor. Nodding and holding up his hands in contrition, the Magi said. “I’ll help; what do I need to do?”
A nervous breath escaped Cole; he knew the basics of the magic involved but never attempted it before. “For now, create a ritual circle one meter in diameter out of cremation ash. The burn piles outside should provide all you need.”
Finding his pack, Cole stuffed Isabelle’s skull into the leather satchel and reinvigorated the subtlety enchantment on the bag with a drop of blood. Turning to leave, Cole explained. “I’ll be back shortly; I need to check on Yara.”
Not a minute later, Cole entered the fort’s infirmary and found Mina, another Priest and two healers fussing over Yara. Stripped out of her near-frozen clothing and lying on a cot, the thrall looked like a corpse, but considering her attendants weren’t offering last rites, something of Yara still lived. Approaching the quartet, Cole asked. “How is her condition?”
Mina looked up from Yara, an intense frown contorting the bite scar on her face. “What did Natalie do to her?”
Forcing his voice to stay calm, Cole said. “I think the stigma activated either to protect Yara from Natalie or Natalie from something else.”
Shaking her head, Mina gestured down at Yara. “That’s not what I meant! How is she alive? With this amount of blood loss, she shouldn’t be breathing!”
Non-plussed, Cole repeated himself. “I… I don’t know. What can I do to help?”
Shrugging, Mina replied. “Nothing unless you can get her blood back. She’s lost too much for a marrow ministration to compensate. I can’t understand how she’s still alive, and I don’t want to test how long she’ll last.”
Nodding, Cole started to roll up his sleeves while asking one of the healers. “Do you have syringes and tubing?”
The healer nodded, and Mina looked at Cole with shock. “A blood transfer? But that’s a coin flip!”
At that moment, Cole commiserated with Isabelle’s annoyance at other people’s ignorance. Knowledge of blood types wasn’t well known outside certain academic circles in the Duchies. Tapping his arm, forcing the vein to bulge, Cole quickly explained. “My blood is safe; this isn’t my first time doing this.”
Sitting next to Yara, Cole took the requested supplies from one of the healers and got to work. Soon, a stream of bright red flowed along yellowed tubing and into Yara’s white skin. Staring down at where the syringe pierced his flesh, Cole sighed. His blood would be accepted by any human and most of humanity's kindred species like dwarf or werefolk. It had been a long time since Cole offered his blood to help the living, not the dead, and something about the act rendered him melancholic.
With blankets to warm her and fresh blood flowing into her, Yara’s color was returning. As the two Priests and two healers became certain Cole’s blood wouldn’t be the final nail in the thrall’s coffin, they started to relax. Yara wasn’t the only patient in the infirmary, and soon, the fort’s medical staff moved on to other work, leaving Cole and Mina to watch over the unconscious woman.
Hand on Yara’s forehead, Mina stared at her with glowing eyes. As the silver phosphorescence faded, Mina muttered. “She’s hibernating; that's the best way I can describe it.”
Pulling her hand away, Mina looked at Cole. “I’ve never heard of anything like this. Is it normal for Vampire thralls?”
Cole shook his head. “This isn’t the first oddity about Yara. She’s been able to slip through cracks in attention and recover from blood loss faster than even any thrall I’ve known. Could she be a Savant or hedge mage of some kind?”
Mina shrugged. “I don’t think so. I didn’t sense any passive magic, but I could have missed something.”
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Nodding in understanding, Cole leaned toward Yara and let his mind peer into the Aether. Mina was right in describing Yara’s state as ‘hibernation.’ The thrall's very soul seemed stagnant; its currents and colors slowed to a crawl. Something about the sluggish, sedentary status of Yara’s soul itched at Cole’s mind. Eyes suddenly widening in surprise, Cole lurched back as realization struck. He’d seen souls hibernate like this before when a Vampire entered torpor.
Reaching out, Cole touched Yara’s neck and felt for a pulse. He found the slow heartbeat and watched as Yara’s chest rose and fell at a barely perceptible rate. Yara was most definitely alive, but in a state no living creature should be able to exist in. Ignoring Mina’s questions as to what he’d noticed, Cole refocused on the Aether and examined Yara’s soul. Normally, a soul ‘looked’ like a roiling cloud of emotions, memories, and metaphors. Yara’s soul reminded Cole of a swamp’s slow current, which was still more active than the glacial souls of a hibernating Vampire but pitifully stagnant compared to even a comatose mortal.
Carefully detaching the tubes and syringes linking him to Yara, Cole explained what he saw to Mina. Once he finished, Mina wore a troubled expression, which Cole guessed matched his own. Standing up, taking a second to let the light-headedness pass, Cole said. “I need to speak with Isabelle. Can you watch Yara?”
Mina nodded. “How are you going to manage that?”
Turning to leave, unwilling to face the Priestess of his God, Cole said. “With difficulty.”
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Cole and Kit worked not so much in secrecy but in discretion. The circle was drawn on a piece of fallen stonework outside the fort’s walls, away from prying eyes and uncomfortable questions. Cole knew the night watch noticed Kit and him, but it seemed the soldiers decided they didn’t want to know what they were up to. So, the only audience the pair had was Alia, who leaned against the stone walls and watched with undisguised disgust. She’d apparently noticed Kit leaving the fort and hadn’t liked that; she’d liked helping him gather up a sack of human ashes even less, but still complied.
Illuminated by Kit’s mage light and lantern, the scene of the prepared ritual was not pretty. Isabelle’s skull sat in the middle of a perfect circle of ash. Sigils painted with Cole’s blood daubed the cracked bone and the stone around it, forming an eye-watering pattern covering much of the circle’s interior. At the south edge of the circle, a line of ash stretched out and connected to the faerie lantern. The eldritch relic glowed unsettlingly, its myriad sides reflecting the light of stars both foreign and familiar.
Checking over his work, moving slowly to avoid the light-headedness of blood loss, Cole nodded to himself. He’d refused to let anyone else contribute ichor to the ritual, and after donating to Yara, he wasn’t feeling the greatest. Still, he was confident the ritual was ready; he just needed Kit to play his part.
The Magi in question looked over the fell circle with an eager glee that almost made Cole doubt his choices. Standing by the faerie lantern, Kit flexed his fingers and, strangely enough, did vocal warmups. Cole had explained the mechanics of the spell, and Kit seemed confident he could work the magic. But, that didn’t change what they were attempting was very complicated and being done in a fantastically stupid manner. Cole knew how to cast the ritual but lacked the magical talent to do it, and Kit, for all his skill, had never so much as made a skeleton twitch.
Alia finally left her skulking spot by the wall and came towards where Cole kneeled near the circle’s north side. “So, explain to me why you’ve not done this before?”
Glancing at her and hating how the world spun, Cole said. “Until recently, I worked hard to keep Isabelle a secret. Revealing her to a Magi, especially when requesting they help with magic as… questionable as this, wasn’t feasible. Now, I just can’t find another option. I need to know she’s alright, and see if she can offer any insight into whatever in the fixed stars happened.”
Rolling his head around his shoulders, Kit said. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Gesturing for Alia to back away, Cole nodded. “Let’s begin.”
Holding his arms out, Kit started to sing a high, perfect note, and the lantern near his feet glowed brighter. Cole watched as the strange white light of the lantern changed hue slightly, becoming almost purple near its edges. The ash started to react, vibrations spreading out from the lantern and traveling along the lines of soot in steady waves. As Kit’s voice changed key, the vibrations intensified, and the purple glow of the lantern bled from the relic and into the ash, granting the humming powder an almost indigo hue.
Next, the sigils daubed in blood started to move, wriggling over the stone and bone like malformed insects. The dried ichor slithered across the ground like animated shadows, creating a hypnotic pattern swirling about the skull. With every beat of Cole’s heart, the symbols moved faster and faster, becoming a whirlpool of occult imagery converging on the skull. Cole’s ears popped, and Kit’s singing became a staccato rhythm; the ritual was nearing completion.
Slowly, Isabelle’s skull started to float into the air, carried up by a pillar of overlapping sigils. Purple fire glowed within the skull, and its jaw fell open. A voice Cole hadn’t heard outside of dreams or distorted by Natalie’s throat came forth. “Cole? Darling? Is that you?”
“I’m here,” called out the Paladin and the skull swiveled to face him.
Isabelle made a noise halfway between a laugh and a moan. “And Pavlos said teaching you this was pointless! Ah, I wish he yet persisted for many reasons, including being able to rub this victory in. How are you doing this, Cole? Please tell me you haven’t bled yourself to death casting the spell?”
Clearing his throat, Cole said. “I received help from a Magi apprentice of Lupa; he’s with me now.”
The skull bobbed slightly, nodding its understanding. “Ah, and where is Natalie? Why haven’t you simply asked her to…”
Isabelle gasped, an odd, almost hollow noise distorted by her existence. “Where is she? We need to warn her; something’s wrong, something’s very wrong!”
Swallowing the tightness in his throat, Cole said. “Her stigma activated, and she’s more scared than I’ve ever seen her. I don’t know what happened. We are at a local military garrison, and she’s being held in their jail for now.”
Cole took a moment to explain events the best he could with Kit and Alia present. Thankfully, most of the details weren’t sensitive enough to warrant true secrecy, just some subtlety. As Cole finished relaying events, he waited while Isabelle digested his story.
Slowly, like someone trying to recall a dream, Isabelle said. “I remember tasting her blood, how that roused me from my stupor. I tried to follow the blood, join Natalie in her mindscape, but… but I was stopped. There was an entity inside her mind, a power I didn’t recognize. It was…horrible; the being broke my connection to Natalie before I could learn anything valuable. I’ve dived into the Beyond, Cole, and encountered primeval nightmares there; this felt like one of them. Whatever attacked Natalie is powerful enough to require the Tenth’s intervention. I don’t know what sort of being this is, just that it’s damned dangerous.”
Isabelle didn’t swear often, or at least not with such trite pedestrian curses; she was rattled, and that unnerved Cole in ways similar to Natalie’s behavior did. Staring at the cracked skull, Cole asked. “Your container was damaged by whatever happened with Natalie. Are you alright?”
The purple light coming from the skull dimmed slightly, and after a moment, Isabelle answered. “I think so. It's… it's hard to tell; keeping my stream of thought coherent is proving slightly difficult, but that could be caused by the ritual. When matters are settled, I must speak with this Magi; his channeling is uneven and slapdash.”
Cole decided Isabelle having the capacity to complain and criticize was a good sign. Glancing at the incensed Kit, Cole debated asking him and Alia to leave for a time; there was a matter he needed to discuss, and he wasn’t certain how much to let his allies know. Seeing Kit’s mutilated ear and thinking of the trust the Magi extended, Cole sighed. “There is something I need your wisdom for, Belle. Natalie sought to contact you to discuss recent events, particularly about an… abnormality that presented itself during the battle.”
Isabelle listened as Cole described Natalie’s act of cannibalism and the side effects thereafter. Kit’s annoyance at Isabelle’s critic faded as this new mystery caught his attention. Alia looked slightly unsettled, one hand rubbing her shortsword’s grip in a display of nerves. When Cole finished, Isabelle was silent for nearly a minute until she spoke a single word.
“Molek.”
The purple glow coming from inside Isabelle’s skull intensified. “That’s the word my grandsire used to describe vampire cannibalism. It means shameful offering in the Rabisu’s tongue. I never understood why that was the term until now; it's annoyingly poetic but still accurate. The Alukahs spawned mutant offspring called Edimmus, degenerate creatures unworthy to be called Vampires. According to the texts Glynn shared with Natalie, and she shared with me, the original Alukahs were infamous for consuming their unworthy scions, reclaiming the power used to create them. The Rabisu and her nine scions devoured their disappointing children as a way to strengthen themselves. Offering up their shameful heirs as a sacrifice, if you will.”
Cole’s frown deepened as he started to understand what Isabelle was implying. “Natalie committed Molek just as Annoch and his siblings did. You think she caught the attention of a hostile entity by ‘sacrificing’ lesser Vampires.”
The skull nodded. “Yes… or a more worrying possibility is she woke something up. Bits of a Vampire cling to their consumer; the stronger the devoured Vampire, the longer those shadows persist. The nine Alukahs consumed their mother, and one of them was consumed by Natalie. Strix, Strigoi, Wyrmoi, Moroi, Gyllou, we are all pale imitations of the Rabisu’s children, maybe in more ways than initially assumed. Perhaps the original Vampires claim more than scraps of their cannibalized victim’s mind.”
An edge of cold fear traced up Cole’s spine. Whatever Natalie experienced, it was enough to terrify her and trigger the stigma. The last time the icy power of Master Time’s mark was activated was when Natalie lost total control and entered a feral state. Afraid to voice what Isabelle was implying, Cole whispered. “You think Annoch survives inside Natalie’s blood?”
Isabelle slowly answered. “It’s a distinct possibility, one I don’t know how to handle. I’m pained to say this, but I think this is a matter your patron deity is more equipped to aid with. Cole, I’m… I’m sorry for both you and her. I’ll help however I can, but I am limited without a body or proper resources.”
A small, stressed noise escaped Cole. “Thank you. There is one last thing I hope you might offer insight into.”
Cole explained the situation with Yara in more detail, of her impossible survival and resistance to being weaned from the Sting. The animated skull listened with rapt attention, a deep curiosity almost radiating from Isabelle’s remains. Once Cole finished, Isabelle laughed, a small snort of dark amusement.
“Natalie and I have been going about this the wrong way. I thought it was odd how dependent Yara is on the Sting. Even if she’d been dosed from early childhood, her addiction shouldn’t be this severe. I’d thought her devotion and obsession were why the Sting affected Yara so much. While that’s still probably a facet, it's not the main problem. Yara isn’t a thrall; she’s an ancilla.”
Sensing Cole’s confusion, Isabelle elaborated. “Under rare circumstances, the thrall of an ancient Vampire will start to… mutate. A few decades of being dosed with potent Sting will alter the thrall, granting them odd abilities. As I’ve said, if normal Vampires are simply poor mimicries of the Alukah, then it stands to reason the first blood could easily create ancilla.”
Thankful to have an explanation, Cole said. “Knowing this is good, I’m grateful, and… I miss you. Natalie loaning her body isn’t optimal, but being able to speak with you then was nice.”
The light inside the skull started to dim. “It was, and when I have a new body, we’ll have many things to discuss, darling. Until then, we can use this ritual or, preferably, Natalie’s help. Speaking through this magic is useful but taxing; I must return to hibernation. I love you, Cole; take care of yourself and Natalie.”
Cole whispered, “I love you too,” as the purple glow finally faded, and Isabelle’s skull settled back on the stone. The magic coursing through the ash ended, Cole broke the circle and collected the haunted remains of his beloved. Cradling the slightly warm bone in his arms, Cole turned to Kit, who looked a little haggard from the spell’s effort. “Thank you, Kit.”
The Magi just waived off Cole’s words, wiping a little sweat from his brow. “That was fun; I’ll have to take up her offer for lessons in the future.”
Uncertain how he felt about the idea of Kit learning some of Isabelle’s more potent magic, Cole got to work gathering up the spread-out human ashes. Leaving the desecrated remains as they were didn’t sit right with Cole. He’d clean up his own messes, no matter what form they took. As Cole carried the sack of dark powder back to the cooling pyre, where they’d be buried with the rest, a flash of guilt struck the Paladin. He’d contested Natalie and Isabelle’s plans to steal a body, an act that, while morally correct, still felt like a betrayal. Watching the ashes fall onto the smoldering heap, Cole decided it wasn’t right to simply stop the two Vampires without giving them another option. Cole needed to find a way to get Isabelle a body without committing a terrible sin or stranding his beloved within her bone prison.
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Natalie stared at Captain One-fist with tired eyes. The old soldier found a chair somewhere and placed it by the brig’s shattered door so he could sit and watch her. If the fantastic cold of the cell bothered the Paragon, he didn’t show it. A large axe sat across One-fist’s lap, its steel head reeking of garlic. He’d lathered the twin blades of the axe in some kind of grease shortly after Cole left. Smelling the stinking gunk was enough to make Natalie’s noise burn; she didn’t want to find out what an axe smeared with the stuff would do to her flesh. As a threat, the garlic-rubbed axe was only marginally more subtle than Cole’s words before he left.
With great effort, Natalie raised one arm, forcing numb fingers to rub her nose and dislodge some of the garlic smell. With Cole’s amulet weighing her down, Natalie felt like her entire body was asleep, with only an itching tingling to tell her everything was still attached. Noticing how One-Fist’s hand tightened on his axe, Natalie let out a sigh as she tried to scratch her nose. Not long ago, she’d be annoyed with his caution, but after what happened… well, somehow, the idea of a Paragon standing between her and any innocents seemed like a good idea.
Still partially frozen to the cell wall and practically paralyzed by the amulet, Natalie couldn’t do anything but think. A distressing thing to do, considering Natalie’s mind kept returning to the horrible events of her mindscape. Every time the razor-sharp recollection cut its way into her focus, Natalie felt a surge of terror crest. It wasn’t just what happened with Yara or even the Rabisu’s presence that distressed her so much. Sure, the idea of a primordial nightmare nesting inside her mind was horrifying, but the sense of helplessness Natalie experienced at the Rabisu’s claws felt far too familiar.
Claiming the Alukah’s power and avenging both herself and her father did much to soothe Natalie’s trauma at Petar’s hands, but Queen Eresh of Akzad tore open that wound with ease. Natalie had been attacked, violated, and cursed to unlife by Petar while her face was still salty with the tears shed for her father. Now, just when the pain of those events started to fade when Natalie started to take back her power and help stop the monsters, the rug was pulled out from underneath her. She’d been reduced to not just a helpless victim but become a victimizer. Natalie attacked someone whom she’d promised to protect. Somehow, those facts almost hurt more than when Eresh ripped Natalie in half.
One-fist turned his head then, reacting to something Natalie couldn’t sense. With the amulet around her neck, Natalie’s supernatural senses were dulled to something less than human. The Captain rose from his chair, his remaining hand upon his axe. Stepping to the side so he could keep the door and Natalie in view, One-fist waited until Cole entered the brig. A strange mix of shame and relief washed through Natalie. The scarred Paladin’s presence was both a comfort and a source of stress.
A tired smile split Cole’s marked face as he said. “Yara is alive, and she should be okay. I spoke with your colleague, and that offered some insights into matters. How are you?”
Ignoring One-fist, Cole walked across the icy floor and knelt before Natalie. Barely managing a shrug, she replied. “Not good, but not terrible. I think I’m in control, but that could just be the amulet’s influence.”
Reaching out, Cole started to remove the medallion from Natalie’s neck and mouthed words. ‘Isabelle is safe; she says something attacked your mindscape.’
Nodding her head slightly as Cole’s quick fingers freed the amulet, Natalie’s eyes flicked towards One-fist, who watched, his axe at the ready. Catching Natalie’s gaze, Cole mouthed. ‘Did your attacker come from outside or inside?’
Feeling her limbs regain strength and the dulling fog of divine power fade, Natalie whispered. “Inside” as she worked to free herself from the last of the ice.
Cole pocketed his amulet and took Natalie’s hand, an expression of deep concern upon his face. Wincing as her body cracked and clothes tore, Natalie took Cole’s hand and let herself be pulled up. Strong arms wrapped around her, and Natalie relaxed slightly as Cole’s warmth seeped into her.
When Cole finally let go, Natalie turned to face One-fist, who looked at the pair with a neutral expression. “I’ve made my decision about Yara.”
Hoisting his axe onto his shoulder, the Captain said. “Travelling with you is the safest option and probably what she deserves. Her actions lead to dozens of people being eaten alive by Leechs and Ghouls. I think it's only fair she goes to a similar fate.”
Flinching at the words, Natalie felt momentary anger die beneath a cloud of shame. Cole’s fingers interlaced with hers, and he said nothing, not rising to the Captain’s rebuke. Watching them with his steely eyes, One-fist continued. “The pair of you helped us win the battle, and I thank you for that. But whatever business you are about is above my steel price and not something my soldiers are equipped to handle. So I want you gone by tomorrow morning. I don’t care that Master Time himself has vouched for you two. I’m not risking my subordinates by having a leech within my walls.”
Before Cole or Natalie could respond, footsteps sounded in the hall outside the cell. A frantic soldier burst into the room, his breath puffing out in icy clouds. “Captain One-fist! There's a messenger bird! From Crowbend!”