As they rode out from camp, White noticed a strange rattle-clank coming from Lady’s horse. He looked over and saw a series of small bones aligned within a lock of her hair. He could easily conclude where they’d come from, paling at the thought of Lady standing over the boned general’s remains. He thought better of asking questions and remained silent, eager to meet up with the main force.
The army marched on, the lands twisting and flora thinning as they continued north, signs of civilization becoming scarce as they travelled further beyond the border of Pylos. Soon what settlements they passed were either abandoned, or charred remains of what once was, the outskirts of many littered with shallow graves. Where Pylos experienced relief, these people still lived in fear.
Lady’s army came upon a small farm as the sun began to set, smoke still billowing from the farmhouse which couldn’t have been torched more than a day prior. The crops glowed as they smoldered in the breeze, making Lady’s eyes sting and her soldiers cough as the air remained heavy with soot. These burning fields became more frequent as the continued on, and by dusk they came into view of the ruined city which those fields had fed.
“Over there,” a soldier at the edge of the formation called out, “a figure!”
The soldiers quickly formed a line, weapons at the ready should the emerging entity prove to be of hostile intent. It did not take long though for the man to emerge from the shadows of the ruins, rushing to them with urgency. The men sheathed their weapons, and several went out to meet them. Lady and Sir White had begun to move their mounts through the formation, intrigued by the commotion.
“Our friend needs a healer,” the man pleaded to the soldiers between breaths, “She’s sick!”
Healing herbs had become precious over the march, as the wounded and the survivors they encountered consumed it in greater quantities. Lady and her soldiers knew they would need those supplies at the end of their trek, but who among them would be the one to deny those in need? As Lady had said, “If not us, then who? If not now, then when?”
“We will do what we can for your friend,” one soldier promised, “but we are limited in what we have to offer.”
The soldiers turned as Lady and Sir White arrived.
“My Lady,” the most senior soldier greeted, looking up to Lady on her mount. “This man requires a healer.”
Lady nodded, requiring no further explanation. “Then a healer he shall have. Sir White, fetch Caesaris.” She pointed to several of the soldiers present. “You four will escort this man with me.”
Lady dismounted from her horse, accompanied by White and the druid Caesaris, and followed the man into one of the buildings. What it once was, they could not tell, for the fire damage was too great. Through the winding wreckage they found two figures. A woman lay on the floor, while a man huddled close to her, grasping her hand.
The man looked up at the party as they approached and remained quiet. His eyes wore dark rings of exhaustion and his skin and garments were blanketed grey by ash. Under all the grime and exhaustion one could make out his Nordic heritage. They were not descendants of anyone from within the dukedom. His eyes traced over the new faces until his attention was called back the woman in his care, who groaned in pain on the floor.
Lady looked down on the woman, her expression betraying a sense of pity. The illness had taken a deep hold on her, skin tight against bones as though she’d been starved for weeks. Her chestnut hair had begun to fall out and her right arm bore the ever familiar bite, green with puss. The air reeked of rotten flesh.
“There is no cure for this,” Caesaris whispered, shaking his head.
The young man who had led them here burst from his place behind the party. “There has to be something you can do!” He looked to his companion on the floor, but his friend made no motion to argue.
“Give us a horse then, and let us seek out other healers!”
“She would not last to the sun’s rise.” White spoke softly, knowing from his experiences with his village.
Defiant, the young man continued to plea. Lady kneeled down next to the young woman, ignoring the others. The woman met Lady’s gaze, but focus was a struggle for her, as though something else were calling for her.
“You can hear them, can’t you?”
The woman’s eyes had sunken into her skull, the blue of her irises faded. They clearly looked to Lady now as the woman managed a small nod.
Lady tensed as her fear was confirmed. She’d suspected that this plague was more than some mere disease, but magic had never been her strong suit.
“Do you understand what you hear?”
“They are calling me,” the woman rasped. She wheezed a quick breath and let out a wet cough. Her voice was weaker when she continued. “I don’t want to go…”
“I can help you,” Lady offered, a resolve in her voice. Her heart picked up in pace. What she was proposing could not be delegated to any of her men. If this poor soul accepted, it would be Lady’s burden.
“I thought you said that you could not help her.” The unspoken betrayed his silence.
“Hush, Mearm,” the woman responded, struggling to raise her head to look to him. “It’s not what you are hoping for.” Her faded gaze turned back to Lady, who she knew could finally free her from her cursed fate. “I accept.”
Finally realizing what they were speaking of, the yet unnamed man shouted. “No! This can’t-this can’t be the only way.” He kneeled down on the other side of the woman and took her hand. “You’re strong, if we-“
“No,” she said, raising a hand to him, yet unable to find him. He took her hand and brought it close. “My sense of self is diminishing. I feel I will not last the hour, my dear Parune.”
A hushed silence fell upon them all as the inevitable sunk in, only her labored breathing breaking the silence.
At long last Mearm leaned down and kissed her forehead, whispering a short prayer. “Marielle, my sister, may you find your peace now.”
“Sir White,” Lady called as she stood, her gaze still locked at Marielle below. “Please take Caesaris with you and wait outside. I shall be out shortly.” Lady wanted nothing less than for Sir White to see her in this act. His only response was that of footfalls as he obediently left with Caesaris.
“This is murder,” Parune said bitterly, his eyes directed towards Lady, all of his hate and frustration focused on her.
“No,” Mearm quavered, this is mercy. The only thing left for us to give her is freedom from the curse that waits for her.” He turned to Parune and met his eyes intently. “Do not tell me you can release her of that fate yourself.”
Parune could not answer, finally shying his gaze away from Mearm’s.
“The wicked truth,” Marielle’s voice croaked, turning her gaze back to Lady, “is that it is a merciful murder. The mercy you seek to show me will weigh heavy on your soul.”
“I would gladly give my soul,” Lady said, fighting to maintain the confidence in her voice, “if doing so would save another.” In truth she was horrified by what she had just agreed to do. Never before had she killed a human being, not an innocent. The thought had never crossed her mind that she might do such a thing in her life, not until she saw the tormented soul behind Marielle eyes.
“Thank you.” Marielle turned to her companions, licking her dry lips before attempting speech again. It had become incredibly tedious to form words and she was getting more exhausted by the moment.
“Let us have a moment with her alone,” Parune said finally as he gazed down at Marielle. “Please.”
Lady nodded and ambled deeper into the wreckage of the structure, finding a room whose once grand ceiling had collapsed, revealing the clear night sky above. Never by my hands shall I hurt those I wish to protect, Lady thought. How can I justify this? She wondered what waited for her when she finally passed from this world. Would she be judged for her actions, condemned for deeds such as this? Would she ever see her parents again? What would they think of her now? Her mind was a flurry of unanswered questions that only painted her consciousness with the thought of her fate holding total and complete condemnation. She didn’t want to be evil, she didn’t want to hurt others, but what she wanted was never an option. Her fate had been stripped from her, and she was left to mold it as best she could. But what if she could not do it without turning into a monster herself?
She thought of Sir White and smirked with grim determination. If I become full of malice, my judge and executioner will be watching me.
Eternity seemed to pass before she saw the figures of Mearm and Parune enter into the dim starlight. They passed by her without a word, only Mearm’s eyes catching the haunted look in Lady’s, a look that said she was paving the road to her own damnation. She would not let anyone else commit the atrocities that were necessary to carry on.
She was grateful for the silence and turned to meet not just the end of a life, but what she felt would be the first hammer strike in the forging of her chains of damnation.
It was a crude burial, but Lady had not wanted to burden the others with any part of this. She sat at the mouth of the ruins and recited prayer after prayer until she felt that at least one obscure God might forgive her for her transgressions. She wished she could do more, and in the back of her mind promised to return and give her a more proper burial, if she somehow managed to survive all of this.
She emerged from the ruins after what seemed like hours. The army had already set camp while waiting on Lady’s party to return. Mearm and Parune waited for her at the edge of the camp, but she could not meet their gaze as she approached.
“You may enter and pay your respects,” Lady said as she paused before them. “I’ve seen that she’s been cared for properly.”
“Thank you,” Mearm responded, “but I think we’ll leave our last memory of her a living one.” Parune nodded agreement to this.
Lady struggled a moment, struggling to find her words. “I am truly sorry for your loss,” she finally began. “I know your home is here, but you are more than welcome to take refuge in Pylos. We have-”
“We want to come with you.” Interrupted Parune who spoke in a matter of fact. The anger he had previously held towards Lady had been redirected in a determination of another cause.
Lady looked up and blinked surprise. It was not hard to discern their purpose. “Are you trained in the sword?”
Parune looked down sheepishly as he shook his head. “No, Mearm and I are…were business partners here in Thunder Snow. However, we want to learn. We want,” the word came hard to him, like a bitter flavor he’d never experienced before, “vengeance.”
Smiling gently, Lady looked over to her men at the camp, then back at what she supposed were her newest recruits. “We have some spare armor needing to be filled, and horses in need of mounts. The road here was less than peaceful. I am sure there are many who’d wish to tutor you in our arts, but time will be short. You are more than welcome to accompany us, just stay mindful of your limits.”
Parune’s face shown a hint of hope. He was more than eager to pay a thousand fold to those who had destroyed everything that he had ever had. “Thank you.” He awkwardly bent at the waist, not accustomed to the sort of formal traditions that were found in the Dukedom, but he knew that it was a time like this to be courteous. Mearm, ever quiet, also bowed.
“There is no need for that.” Lady waved them back up. “My soldiers will tell you that I have forgone such formalities.”
Lady waved down an idle soldier and asked him to find the two of them some new clothes and a tent. “Don’t forget to eat,” she directed at the two. “I know you both may not feel hungry right now, but you will need to keep your strength.”
“Thank you.” Mearm whispered, so softly that Lady almost didn’t catch it. Parune glanced over at his friend and patted his back.
“Don’t worry,” Parune said with a glint in his eye, “Marielle will be avenged.”
Mearm nodded and the both of them walked off together, following the soldier to their new destiny, whatever it may be.
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