Fantasy Broken Faith [Closed, w/ Lucyfer]

Jesse called up the magic, the taste of the Mistflower still bitter on his tongue and bits of its petals caught between his teeth. The wound on the woman’s leg closed up under his fingertips, skin knitting together over rejoined muscle and repaired bone. His patient opened her mouth in a soundless scream of pain, too cautious and too weary to let the noise escape her lungs. The bed she was perched on was stained with sweat and spotted with red, the sheets twisted from her tossing and turning. Whatever she had been attacked by must’ve been poisonous; Jesse could see that in the sweat that beaded along her hairline and the sickly paleness of her skin. Jesse straightened up from his crouch, and began gathering up his medicine and treatments into a black leather bag. “There, take it easy now,” he said, “Penelope, was it? Could you tell me what happened?”

“One of those… things got to me,” Penelope said, collapsing onto her back and pulling a ratty quilt over her torso. The one bedroom hut they were in stunk of sickness and the metallic tang of blood. It was made of wood, constructed with care and craftsmanship. Scattered about within it were the tools of her trade, a bow laid out on a table alongside the implements for skinning and packaging animal meat. “I’m a hunter,” she told Jesse, “I thought I could protect myself out here, you know? I mean, I can. But this thing got the better of me. It would’ve gotten the better of the king himself. One of those abominations that have started turning up, I think, but it barely looked human anymore.”

The bitter aftertaste made Jesse’s stomach turn. Magic itched under his skin, desperate to be used. With a noticeable shake in his voice he said, “Could you describe the abomination for me, please?”

“It was in the shape of a man,” Penelope said, “But much larger than anything human. I can’t remember the details… I thought it was a bear at first. It had the fur of a bear, and the teeth. Have you heard of it? You look faint.”

Jesse stood up, slinging the strap of his leather bag over his neck. The power of the Mistflower always left him feeling drained and out of himself, though he had heard the opposite from other practitioners. An insistent vision nudged at him, making the sight of the hunter swim before his eyes. Underneath the fresh smells of Penelope’s illness he caught the scent of dead animals, taken apart for their meat and hide and bones. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. I’m sorry, I need to go. You live within the Garden of Doctor Elen, I believe, yes? Never mind. If you set out a blue flag, she’ll see it and provide you with further care. Do not tell her about my visit.”

Penelope accepted his instruction with ease, not saying a word about his oddness or his blatant panic. Jesse got the sense she was used to strangeness, and to taking kindness where she could. As he left her hut she was still on the bed, staring at the ceiling, kneading the area where her wound had been with faint wonder on her face. It was worth it, Jesse reassured himself. One dose wouldn’t turn her into the monster Owen had become.

Outside the thick door of Penelope’s home, the forest grew thick and confident in its age. The light that came through the tight lacework of the canopy was tinted green and fell softly onto the undergrowth that Jesse crushed underneath his boot. The mask he wore dug into his cheekbone, though he no longer had the right to wear it. His vision stole over the forest, the Mistflower showing him the location of the thing he was fixated on. These days, the visions came to him without his will, latching onto anything his mind lingered on. Owen was in the forest still, covered in the thick bear-like fur the hunter had described. The magic tugged at him even as his sight returned fully. With quick, stumbling steps, Jesse followed its call, disorientated and desperate to stop the abomination he had made.

——

The retinue moved slowly through the forest. Five knights and a saint, all on horseback, did not make for a quick and light travelling party. Delores felt the ache of long travel and the weight of her armour, trapping her in a swamp of her own sweat and body heat. This early on in the journey tradition valued more than it should be; Delores comforted herself with the knowledge that soon the heavy ceremonial armour would no longer be insisted on. It was pointless, she knew, to wear the engraved and flashy steel in travel through dangerous areas. The knights were partaking in a useless pantomime, meant to flatter or comfort Gabrielle.

The forest smelt different than any other Delores had been in. The whole kingdom of Anische had an odd quality of scent and taste in the air. It felt damper, heavier somehow, and carried an undertone of rot that made Delores sit uneasily on the horse. Bird calls were quiet and furtive, scraping along the edges of Delores’ hearing. Her horse stepped delicately over the roots and trampled on the fragile new growth, guided by her light hand. Light filtered through the canopy overhead in distorted and weaker form. The other knights were silent, surrounding the saint in a protective formation which faltered in the density of the forest. There was no terrain like this in Lisilite.

Delores was kept the back of the retinue, in part due to her skill in combat and in part to keep her distant from the saint. Shame had curdled in her stomach at the beginning of the journey, and sat there to rot now. Sir Paul, the commander of the retinue after Gabrielle, had made the distinction clear between her and the other knights.

Carefully, Delores studied the forest to either side of her, squinting into the darkness. There was something wrong, more so even than the alarm bells that had been ringing in her mind since they crossed the border. With a gauntleted hand clenched on her horse’s reins, Delores rode closer to Sir Paul. Instincts were valued highly in knights. If she told him to put the retinue on high alert, he surely would.

The other knight was inferior to her in combat, diplomacy and all other areas they had been trained in. Prior to her brother’s treason, it would have been Delores who commanded the retinue. Delores could accept this. She had been learning to accept many more than she had previously. But shame still stung her when she recognised the disgust in his eyes, though it was familiar now. “Sir,” she said, riding close by his side, “I have to warn you-“

“Return to your position,” Sir Paul told her, and turned to face in front of himself, dutifully ignoring her. Delores fell back, focusing ahead so she would no see her fellow knights. It was no so far that she could not see what happened to the knight closest to the saint.

Something had burst out of the forest with a speed and grace that did not suit its size. It reared up, and incredible thing of fur and distorted features, a human nose and jaw pulled into something resembling an animal’s snout. Another knight fell. Delores switched into action as swiftly as she could, attempting to ride closer to Gabrielle in order to protect her.

Gabrielle was not too aware of the political situation within her knightly retinue as they moved through the misty forest. In truth, she did not know which direction to head in. She had never visited Anische – but then, no one in her retinue had. Her idea was to find a river, or a stream, and follow it.

Logic suggested a civilization would be built alongside it, and they could speak to the people there, to learn from whence this mist came, and put an end to its encroachment.

As such, she was fairly attentive to the sounds around her. ‘No birdsong. Little sound at all.’ Beyond the tramping of their steeds, and the gentle sound of metal clinking, anyways. There was a moment’s sound of conversation, and she turned her head towards Paul as he dismissed Delores without hearing her out.

Gabrielle pursed her lips together, but decided that could be a conversation saved until they made camp, or came upon a city to rest in.

As she turned her attention forward once more, she did hear something, except it seemed to come from all directions, echoes seeming to bounce off trees – or perhaps the mist itself? Gabrielle considered pausing to determine the source, but she never got the word out before the knight to her left was suddenly swiped off her horse.

Gabrielle’s own horse danced beneath her in fright, pulling back as Gabrielle tried to hold it in place with the reins, gray eyes seeking the source, before a knight that charged ahead of her was taken to the ground by a massive paw.

It would have been easy to think the creature a bear as it was now close enough to see it. Furry and huge, but the face – it was a horrendous mockery of the human face, jaw and nose pulled into a snout, and eyes hanging low on its cheeks. Gabrielle choked back a scream as the knight in all his fine armor was made into little more than a bloody splatter beneath the beast that lunged its body for her.

Her horse bolted, but to no use.

A swipe took the horse down and cut deep into Gabrielle’s leg. The silvery mare fell, pinning Gabrielle’s other leg with its weight; it was a bit too dead to get off.

‘God protect me!’ Gabrielle couldn’t even shut her frightened eyes as she heard the other knights try to move to intercept, to protect, when they’d likely have no time.

The mist shivered in the call. A blinding flash of light from Gabrielle caused the fiend to stumble back and drop back to all fours, shaking its head as it tried to regroup its vision.

Sir Paul took the initiative to push forward and plunge his blade into the beast’s head. Pale blood fell from the wound, sticky as mucus, as its eyes focused on Paul.

He had time enough to pull his sword out, before it caught his arm in its teeth, and threw the rest of him into a tree. Paul’s arm was devoured on the spot, and the beast roared out – only to suddenly find on eye taken out completely by an invisible force.

It swiped into the air, striking nothing, as a disembodied voice spoke, “Get out of here!” to the remaining retinue of knights.

Prince Alaric, better known as Voss, shifted into sight, red hair quite the sight amongst the white mist, and he whistled to draw the attention of the fiend off of the recovering party, “Come along now, it’s me that you wish to strike down,” his sword had the eye still impaled upon it, though he flicked it off as the beast did indeed take the opportunity to let its attention be drawn away from the knights, towards the assailant, only to stop short.

Voss was gone from sight again, though a clever eye might notice the way the mist parted as he moved through it, around the bearish fiend to get a better striking position.

Delores attempted to bring order to the knights, calling out commands over and over to no effect. The stench of a battle rose around her, the quiet of the forest overtaken by the sound of metal and pain and the beast itself. The corpses of the dead knights lay mangled on the ground; a cruel corner of Delores’ mind dismissed them as failures. At last, leaving the remaining knights to their own skill and fate, Delores turned her focus to Gabrielle. She could see the beast approaching her. She lunged uselessly forward as it lashed out. She heard her cry out.

The flash of light took Delores by surprise as much as the beast, causing her to startle backwards in her path. It must be the Shining One, Delores thought, a moment of awe making her still. But practicality overruled faith. The saint was priority; her orders had been clear on that point. Delores moved to leverage the mare off Gabrielle’s leg. She ignored Paul’s death, bending herself entirely to her task. “The Shining One has blessed you,” she said, without fully intending to speak, groping for comfort. She didn’t know if it was intended for herself or for Gabrielle.

She was still stationary and useless, heaving at the horse’s weight, when she heard the beast cry out. Delores startled, twisting around to stare at the eye disappearing from its head. She had never seen so many strange sights in Lisilite.

Voss appearing startled her more than the eye. She had never seen a man shift like that, melting in and out of the mist. Delores closed her eyes for a half-second, gathering herself. She obeyed his order. “Gabrielle, we need to go,” she said, trying to soothe, though she knew it was pointless. She lifted the dead horse up enough for her to move out from under it. If she could just get Gabrielle out of harm’s way, then she could assist the red-headed man with his fight.

As she studied the forest, looking for an escape, she noticed another stranger, keeping back in the trees. A tall man, with a mask over one eye, and the black bag that signalled he was a doctor. He kept away from the fight, turning his head back and forth to watch the movement of something in the mist.

Gabrielle pulled her leg out hastily when the mare was lifted, and struggled to her feet, reaching out to Delores to balance and rise, the other leg still wounded from the initial strike of the beast. She looked around as well for a decent path to get out of the way, and noticed the doctor figure. Uncertain of them, and not wanting to put others in harm’s way besides, she opted not to direct that way.

It was a shame her horse was down.

“I’ll—” a wince, as she tried to put more weight on the injured leg. Not great. The blessing only went so far, it seemed.

The beast cried out again and was drawn further away by its invisible foe, that stranger who had appeared from nowhere, giving them time to sort through her state, “I will not be much use,” she admitted, “just behind a tree, and I will work on healing myself,” if she could channel enough magic. She had managed it close to the mist before, certainly she could find that power again now that she ventured within it, right?



In either case, Voss did intend to keep the beast occupied.

He intended to kill it, and assess the newcomers. Their accent lilted, suggesting they may be another from a fallen kingdom pulled into the mist recently. They’d need help understanding if they were to survive.

Although the beast he faced grew increasingly more reckless, lashing out all around, turning every which way, making it difficult to find a good opening. He nearly stepped into a strike attempting to get close, blade scraping the finger of the beast in the process.

The beast lunged in his direction and he just managed to roll off to the side, but the invisibility faded with the break in focus.

“Lean on me,” Delores said, offering Gabrielle her shoulder. She turned her head to the fight every few seconds, paranoid that the beast would somehow appear behind her. She wished she had better armour, or a single living knight beside her, or that she had never left her homeland. This kingdom was strange. Its people hid on the edges of carnage and turned invisible. Its beasts had human eyes. For a moment Delores wanted desperately to turn tail and run away from the stink and sound of the fight; shame mixed with adrenaline in her chest. “There’s no need for you to fight,” she said to Gabrielle, in order to remind herself of her duties.

With staggering steps, Delores began to guide Gabrielle to the broad trunk of a nearby tree. She studied the corpse of Paul on the ground, the way in which his armour had been torn apart. With cold certainty, Delores realised she would have to adapt to this kingdom. Her ways could change quickly, if she forced them to.

Delores could hear the sounds of the fight: howling, grunts and pants. She could hear the beast growing crazed with frustration and pain. With a twist of her head, she confirmed the faltering of the invisible attacker. The tree was close, its branches sweeping the carpet of dried leaves below it. “Saint, can you make the rest of the way? I need to help.”

-

Jesse studied the Mist, watching the stranger torment the thing that had been Owen. He focused on them to the exclusion of the other strangers. A fascination lodged in his chest, keeping his eyes fixed on the conflict. The strap of his medical bag was sweaty in his grip. As he watched the dizzying effect of the Mistflowers faded, leaving him with blurred vision and a heart beating double-time.

When the attacker broke into visibility, Jesse’s head twitched and he took a step backwards. “Get yourself together,” he said to himself, in a hoarse whisper. Without sound, he moved his lips, repeating the oaths he had taken as a doctor and priest. He turned his attention to the two survivors of the retinue. As he watched the knight that had been helping the woman eased off. He watched her draw her sword and lunge at the beast, attracting its attention. His heart slowed.

Jesse picked his way over to the woman, avoiding the beast by a wide margin. With a clinical eye he examined the manner in which the woman stood, assessing the severity of her injury. There, at least, was something he could help with. “Excuse me,” he said, with clunky formality, “I’m Jesse, I am a doctor of the Church of Blue Chambers. Please, let me tend to your injury.”

Voss knew better than to expect help or ask for it. One appeared to be a knight, but with the whole group save one dispatched it was evident they weren't prepared. The markings on some shields told Boss where they hailed from – a kingdom he didn't think had fallen, one he knew he was near the edge of.

Had they sought negotiations?

Or something else?

He was curious, and that alone was reason to help them live, beyond it simply being the right thing.

Still he was surprised to receive aid as the knight drew the attention from him, her blade striking true and cutting right into the fiend. As it roared in indignation, and tried to turn it's body to face its newest assailant, Voss took the opening.

He plunged the thin blade right into the creature’s neck and tore through it, spilling blood in rivers down the beast’s hide before it could lay into the new knight.

~***~

Gabrielle leaned on Delores, doing her best to manage the pain, while walking, using Delores far more than she wanted to. The pain was a shock every time she put weight on the foot, dulling as she lifted it.

Still, they made it close to the tree before the sense of honor – and likely, pragmatism – hit Delores.

Gabrielle only nodded, “Don't worry about me,” she was far enough away, and she'd stay far enough away, though she wished she could do more. She thought stepping into the Mist covered area would restore her ability to call upon miracles. The one blast of a shield felt more like desperation, not the answer from God she sought. Not the power she sought.

‘Has God truly….’

Gabrielle was jolted from the thought by a voice claiming to be from the Church of Blue Chambers. It was no faith she knew, and she hesitated to accept help from outside. The Shining One might further reject her, and then how would she protect Delores?

She couldn't now.

So, slowly, Gabrielle nodded, “I would appreciate your assistance. I am Gabrielle.” She offered her own name in kind, but hid her affiliation in case there was any strife between the faiths she knew naught about.