Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
AN: Hello! I hope everyone is having a great day, and I'd like to thank all who read, followed, favorited, or reviewed the first chapter. The support is greatly appreciated! (Also, responses to guest reviews can be found at the end of this post.) And now on to the second chapter! I hope you enjoy it :)
The Gift of Death
Riza Hawkeye moved silently through the trees, the forest around her a chorus of crickets, rustling leaves, creaking limbs and the infrequent scurry of nocturnal animals. The moon above was bright, out-shining many of the stars that might have normally dotted the skies and providing excellent visibility on her unorthodox late-evening hunt. The air carried on the wind was refreshingly cool and, just as it picked up, a reindeer stepped into her field of vision, female judging by the antlers. With a little smile she raised her arm and drew back the string of the bow cradled in her left hand, letting the arrow's fletching tickle her cheek as she exhaled slowly. She was just about to loose when a loud crack resounded through the woods and her target scampered away.
The frustrated sigh of an opportunity lost left her and her weapon started to drift downward, but at the muffled sound of a step she spun to her left, raising it once more. Hardly a second later her maternal grandfather, Walter Grumman, appeared from behind a tree with his hands up. His hazel eyes were tired, but his stride was quick and agile, belying his age and the fatigue they all likely felt. He gave her one of his kind smiles by way of greeting as he let his hands fall. "Just me, my dear."
She returned the friendly grin, lowering the bow and swiping blonde bangs from her eyes. "Anything in the traps?"
"Afraid not," he replied, falling into step beside her.
"It's been almost too quiet. That was the first reindeer I've seen, and this area is generally full of them."
He nodded. "I was thinking that as well. It seems something has scared off the wildlife."
Riza mused on that unsettling notion as they continued east, the roar of rushing water growing louder until they eventually strode out of the forest, coming to a stop at the edge of the Vaal Plat. It was a moderately sized tributary whose waters ran southeast, in the direction of the capital of Amestris' Western Region and, if she remembered correctly, the name meant 'River of Silver' in an old tongue native to the area. Icy water ran over gray rocks, white foam forming in places, and not far away a sturdy stone bridge spanned the torrent.
"I've found nothing," Maria Ross informed them, tying black hair back from her face and joining them to take a moment's rest. Riza had known the seer for years, since long before the Aerugonian Conflict, and the woman had come to be one of her closest and most trustworthy friends. "And I know we would have had to do our butchering in the field, but I was hoping for venison."
"There is something about Drachman venison." She dropped into a crouch, examining the grass at her feet and determining that not a blade was out of place before she started toward the bridge and the little used forest road that led to it. The region in which they found themselves was thickly wooded, the land largely uninhabited due to the sharp hills and rocky crags that made farming difficult and also happened to form a natural boundary that ran along the actual Cretan-Drachman border. A shared mistrust between the people of both countries provided additional dissuasion from settling there, the only presence being distantly placed military outposts. All this meant that wary wanderers could cross between the two nations unnoticed, and she wondered if such travelers had frightened away local game. "Maria?"
The brunette's eyes closed briefly, and then she shook her head. "I feel no one close."
With that assurance they strolled out into the open, and Riza's eyes widened as soon as she caught sight of the eastern shore of the river. The ground had been trampled by countless hooves and boots, the impressions far too muddled to make an accurate conclusion of number. Clumps of grass had been torn out completely in some places, and there were hack marks in the neighboring trees where bored men had idly swung their weapons. Her grandfather gave a laconic chuckle when he saw the muddied trail. "This bodes well."
"This could certainly explain the absence of wildlife," the seer added.
"Indeed..." Stooping once more, she pried free a small piece of silver that had become embedded in the dirt, wiping one side clean with her thumb before tossing it to Grumman. "They could follow the river directly into Western Amestris and no one would be the wiser."
"A Drachman tetra...recently minted," he commented, idly tossing the coin as he walked to the bridge. "I'll bring the horses."
"Alright," she absentmindedly replied, following the tracks a bit further to see what other objects may have been left behind.
"A tetra trampled into the ground doesn't mean this was Drachmans," came Maria's attempt at reassurance. When Riza caught her eye the other woman added, "I know. I didn't convince myself either."
Her exhalation was somewhat tense. "I'd like to follow this trail for a little while. Even if we don't find anyone we'll have to warn the Armstrongs. Darabane is only twenty miles southwest of here, give or take."
They were not made to wait much longer as her grandfather quickly returned, the horses having been tied only a short distance back. "Hello there, Maximilien," she quietly greeted her gelding. Taking the reigns, she rubbed his neck, smiling when the blue roan shook out his mane and gently inspected her palm with his muzzle. Running her hands along the tack, she made sure it was not overly snug and climbed into the saddle, the horse shifting on his hooves in anticipation.
"Do pass the food, old man," Maria teasingly requested when they set off to the south, catching the pack he tossed with a grin. "I doubt I've been so hungry in my life."
"I believe you might be prone to hyperbole, young lady."
"I maintain that it's not an exaggeration if it's true," the brunette rejoined, taking a large bite of cured beef before continuing cheerfully. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but we've been traipsing through the forest all day. A girl cannot survive on only the occasional wild mushroom."
"For Xerxes' sake stop complaining," her grandfather chuckled.
"I daresay it cannot be considered complaining, as she says it with so much joy." Riza smirked.
"Joy? Our dear Maria shows nearly as much emotion as a knapsack."
"I beg to differ. I display the perfect amount of emotion...you are simply too oblivious to notice."
"Must you two always bicker?" Riza smiled in amusement, looking for any footprints that might have broken from the main group
"It's all good-natured, my dear." Grumman gave the other woman a conciliatory smile. "Maria is like a second granddaughter to me."
"If that is how granddaughters are usually treated, why are you so nice to me?"
"Because of my two granddaughters, you're my favorite." He winked at Riza, at which point the brunette punched him none-too-gently in the upper arm.
Rubbing the now aching appendage, he added, "I may need to rescind your title of honorary granddaughter."
Maria responded with an inappropriate hand gesture, and the conversation came largely to an end when they increased their speed. The night darkened as they went, clouds rolling across the moon, and the forest grew gloomy and silent, save for the occasional wisp of a leaf that fell to the ground. Soft moonlight would only periodically wind its way down before disappearing once more, and she had to keep careful eyes on the dirt before them.
The trio trekked in a similar manner for a half hour, meeting no one and crossing from Drachma into Western Amestris before the trail deviated. When she saw the prints leave the river's edge in favor of the woods, Riza rode a touch further before slowing her horse and dismounting, the others quickly doing the same. They led their mounts a shirt distance into the trees to conceal them, securing the reigns to branches, and then started off at a jog along the base of a rise.
With an abrupt hand motion Maria indicated she'd felt something and took the lead, eventually directing them up the side of the hill. They stepped lightly through underbrush, tree trunks interspersed with shrubs growing outward and upward from openings between rocks, several branches already bare with fall well underway. With another gesture the seer stopped them, pointing to the right, and Riza strode noiselessly in that direction with a nod.
After a few seconds she could hear the muffled crunch of footfalls and moved to one side of a tree. Shifting around it as the unknown individual passed on the other side, she stepped up behind him and dexterously wrapped her arm around his neck, placing a hand on his mouth. When he struggled she tightened her grip, releasing him just after he lost consciousness and lowering him to the ground. She took his bow and a few arrows, since she'd left hers with the horses, before dragging him into a cluster of bushes and rejoining the others.
Continuing up the slope, they reached the top and knelt behind the natural cover of rocks. Her eyes narrowed as she peered into the alcove below, exhaling through pursed lips while she nocked an arrow. There were enough Drachman soldiers to constitute a small raiding party, and it was obvious the camp was temporary, perhaps just for the night. Many of the men were drunk, laughing and brawling around two fires located at either end of the clearing. Others slept, using jackets as pillows, and all were armed, not one of them having set aside their weapons. No torches or tents were visible, but she knew there was a cave system nearby that could be utilized for additional shelter.
Suddenly, a bloodied and bruised man was dragged by his arms out of the trees. His head lolled, and he made no sound as he was pulled along, seemingly having been tortured nearly to death. He was tossed into the center of the campsite and soldiers began throwing bones from their meal or stones at him, whatever they had to hand. His clothes were in tatters, stained with his own blood and waste, and his face was swollen, mottled, and covered with cuts. Riza shared a pained look with her companions and in the next instant stiffened, drawing the bowstring back reflexively when a tall man with beady eyes and pale skin strode into the clearing. "Fucking Xerxes..." she cursed.
"Tucker," Walter breathed, his disdain evident even in a whisper. Shou Tucker was one of the Drachman King Anton's favorite generals, due in large part to his violent persuasion and disregard for human life. As one of many stories went, the man had set fire to a house filled with children in order to teach a disobedient village a lesson. He'd promised them food and locked them in before creating the blaze, forcing their loved ones to watch, to listen to the agonized screams. Riza felt a powerful impulse to send an arrow to meet his skull.
"Where is it hidden, swine?" When the man did not speak, the general laughed derisively and stepped forward, unleashing a stream of urine on the prisoner's face.
The man fought weakly to get away, but two soldiers gripped his arms and third held his head in place. Once the flow stopped he spit, shaking his head, and then looked up at Tucker. "May the house of Avgar perish." Riza grinned at the trace of defiance in his voice.
The general cuffed him again, lifting him by the rags that remained of his shirt. "I will find it, and you will have died in vain."
"May the house of Avgar perish," he repeated.
With an apathetic shrug, Tucker tossed him back to the ground. "Kill him."
Several soldiers surrounded the prisoner, dragging him back from whence he came, no doubt with the intention of administering more needless cruelty. "I have an idea." She led them away in a crouch before rising to run down the hillside, curving around to the north toward where the soldiers had disappeared with their victim. They were nearly at ground level when Maria came to a halt and grasped their hands, her eyes clouding over with gray and hints of purple as they focused on a point some distance ahead. Two more scouts materialized out of the night, drunkenly ambling toward the area they'd just left, and passed mere feet in front of them altogether oblivious, the seer's swirling gaze following them. Riza caught a snippet of mutterings in Drachman, 'idiot Raytov never came back,' and she knew their presence might soon be discovered.
As soon as the scouts were out of sight they proceeded, slowing when the glow of another fire became visible ahead. The men that had just left the other camp sat around it, the prisoner tied to a surprisingly distant tree bathed in shadows; apparently they did not anticipate much risk of escape. Circling the area, the trio approached the captive from behind and knelt beside him, shielding themselves behind trees and vegetation. She shared a look with her grandfather and he nodded, turning to keep an eye on the soldiers while Maria snaked an arm toward the unknown man, placing a few fingers in the center of his forehead. He made no response to their presence, or the seer's touch.
The brunette's eyes shut in concentration, and her lips slowly formed a frown before she whispered, "He doesn't know what they seek, he simply detests King Anton." She was silent another moment. "He is practically delirious...I'm surprised he was able respond to Tucker at all."
"Very well." She spoke low so her voice would not carry, making a rapid visual survey of the soldiers. "I'll make his death quick." The seer briefly kept her hand on his forehead, making his last few minutes happier ones, and then moved aside. Riza shifted carefully to the spot vacated by the other woman and gently took the stranger's hand, exhaling as she sought out his life force. What energy flowed through his body felt faint and diaphanous, evidence that the abuse he suffered had been severe and unrelenting, and she softly whispered, "It is unforgivable, what they've done to you." Shooting another look at the Drachmans she began to draw his life force into herself, letting it gradually trickle through her hand, his immense sorrow making it feel as though ice cold water crawled through her arm.
The man's breathing all but stopped, his sporadic inhalations even more shallow than they'd been a minute before. She took his energy slowly such that, to him, it would be no different than falling asleep and, when he expired, it was with a lopsided grin thanks to whatever false reality Maria had given him. Releasing him, she concealed herself entirely behind the large tree trunk and gripped her grandfather's arm with one hand, the seer's with another. She took a moment to pass some of the fallen captive's life force into each of them, and Grumman shuddered.
"I'll never get used to that," Maria added with a little shiver of her own.
"Merda, Riza," he softly swore. "That was..."
"I thought you could use the energy," she replied as they paced away, hurrying back to the horses. "We all have a long night ahead of us."
His chuckle was uneven from shortness of breath. "I don't disagree...I was only going to ask for a warning next time."
"Fair enough." She smiled when they reached the mounts, freeing Max's reigns and deftly jumping into the saddle. They raced south toward the nearest road and she was grateful for the increase in cloud-cover. It would certainly aid in their disappearance, but it also made their rush in the darkness along the edge of the Vaal Plat much more treacherous. When they finally came upon the road it was fortuitously empty and she slowed, letting her horse trot to the right. "I must return to Dunairne Keep immediately."
"I'll ride to Darabane to warn Armstrong...he has no seer," Grumman interjected with a nod. "I'll see you in a few days' time, my dears."
"Take care," she told him and, with a tiny wave, directed Max across the bridge, picking up speed when Maria appeared at her side. Riza was already envisioning distances and planning the best route for them, taking into account the terrain they would encounter. Their horses were bred for speed and, therefore, if the weather remained clear and they were able to keep to the road, they should reach Dunairne by early afternoon the following day, accounting for rests and potential obstacles. Setting a quick pace, she gazed ahead, trying to recall the best places to forage for food along the road home.
The two women reached Dunairne a few hours later than she'd predicted, and Riza was pleased to see the Hawkeye flag waving in the distance. Depicted was a white falcon on a steel-blue background, a series of seven star-flowers embroidered along one of its spread wings, with decorative silver stitching as a border. The falcon was a remnant of more distant generations of her family, before they left Drachma and settled in Creta, taking on the surname of Hawkeye in the process. The flowers were an homage to her mother, as well as her distant relation to King Felipe of Creta.
Stone walls towered ahead of them, the great iron gate already rising, indicating that one of the archers had caught sight of them. As they neared more soldiers could be seen traversing the ramparts, just visible over the parapets, and beyond the keep loomed, overshadowing the bailey in a way that was, in her opinion, welcoming rather than imposing. Hooves clattered on stone when they rode through the gateway, heading straight for the stables so the horses might feed and rest.
They had maintained a demanding pace during the trip, pausing to rest only when absolutely necessary to avoid overworking the mounts. On a few occasions, they were forced to leave the road in favor of a lesser-known trail in order to evade a group of individuals that Maria detected nearby, which caused them to lose some time. Riza was exhausted but, as she lowered herself to the ground and took her bow, quiver, and saddle bags, she pushed dreams of a warm bed aside. Stroking Max's neck, she murmured her gratitude and gave him an apple.
Slinging the bags over a shoulder, she exited the stables, giving the soldier that approached them a smile in greeting. His scarred face was tanned from years in the sun, framed with sandy brown hair and, though he was shorter than many of the men he led, his was a commanding presence. "Stevens, I'm glad we find you well."
"Welcome back, milady," he replied with an inclination of the head, his voice turning into a laugh when Maria catapulted into his arms.
"Will you be needing me, my lady?" the brunette asked.
"No, thank you, Maria. Good night." Her lips quirked again as she crossed the bailey toward the keep, passing the blacksmith, barracks, and craftsmen's buildings as she did. The stronghold was relatively simple, with just a few towers presiding over the parapet-topped curtain wall that surrounded the ward. In the southeastern corner the keep was found, which was relatively small since it was originally built to serve only military purposes. To her left smoke rose from the chimney that branched off from the kitchens, her stomach grumbling in response to thoughts of food. She had loved to sit by the great fireplace in her childhood, reading while her mother reviewed menus, accounts, and supplies with the cook. There was always a soup simmering or tea brewing, giving off enticing scents that somehow managed waft upward through the keep's three higher levels.
At that moment, the main doors swung open with a loud groan and the steward exited with his usual amicable visage. "Lady Hawkeye...you have returned. Shall I have a bath prepared for you and a meal sent up to your chambers?"
"Yes, please, Master Curzon. I must first speak with my father...is he in the library?"
"Yes, my lady." He took her bags, along with the bow and quiver, all of which he would deliver to her rooms, and added, "I'll see to everything immediately."
"Thank you." She strode quickly up the stone stairs, leaving one of the doors propped open to let the light, crisp breeze flow through the passages, and turned toward the library, the aroma of what she guessed to be a lamb stew already reaching her.
At a thick, oak door she knocked twice, waiting to hear a muffled 'Enter' before pulling it open. The room was warm and inviting, with a massive walnut desk on one side and books lining the opposite wall in what constituted one of the finest collections outside the Capital. It was unusual for a country noble to own so many, but Dunairne's library had been built over generations, each new lord and his family adding to it over the past two centuries. Nearby a pair of chairs occupied the rug before the fireplace, with a small table between them most frequently used for tea or chess.
It was in one of those armchairs that she found her father, staring pensively into the fire, a glass of fine Cretan wine in one hand. Firelight flickered over the scar running along one side of his face, alternately bathing it in shadow and light. Curiously, the leather band he often wore on his left wrist was missing, and she took note of the tattoo that was ordinarily covered. The image of an exquisite rose graced the skin of his inner wrist, flanked by black tendrils that danced and coiled around each other as they encircled the joint completely. She could not recall having ever seen the design before, and she momentarily wondered why anyone would hide such artwork. Taking the chair next to his, she returned her focus to the matter at hand and said, "Good evening, father. You are well?"
Berthold Hawkeye slid an already filled glass of wine toward her over the table-top, looking particularly weary. "Well enough," he replied, taking a sip of his own and adjusting a few strands of shoulder length, flaxen hair that fell from its leather tie. "You're early...I did not expect you until tomorrow. Is there anything I should know?"
"Yes, I returned in order to speak with you." She accepted the beverage, raising it toward him as a silent expression of her thanks. "Drachman soldiers have entered Western Amestris. They are hiding well, using forgotten trails and carving out new ones wherever necessary."
Her father gave a thoughtful nod. "I shall send out messages...find out what other nobles have seen."
"Grandfather has gone to warn Lord Armstrong." She took a drink, aware that her next piece of news would be even less pleasant. "That's not the worst. We saw Tucker."
"You're sure?" He looked over sharply, trying to hide the unease in his gaze, but she knew it was there.
Riza nodded, her lips forming a thin line. "Not thirty miles from here. He'd captured and tortured someone, possibly a loyalist."
"One of the old families, then. Who was he?"
"We couldn't determine the victim's identity, the damage to his mind was too great, but they wanted a location from him. Tucker was looking for something."
He exhaled heavily, his expression turning almost angry. "No amount of riches is enough for their Cruel King. I doubt his hunt for wealth ever truly stops, its focus simply shifts from one location to another depending on his moods."
"Chance or not this is the closest they have ever ventured to to Dunairne. And to say I don't care for it is putting it mildly. He may even intend to make a move against Creta." She paused to peruse the tray of biscuits on the table. "How would you like to proceed?"
Her father spoke quietly, mostly to himself, his mind working. "Drachmans growing bold..." He looked up again suddenly, as if just hearing her. "That will be my concern alone."
Her brow furrowed at the odd reply. "And may I ask why? You need me here."
"I concur." Her father drained his glass, setting it aside. "However, your cousin is to be wed and your presence is required. Lord Traherne conveyed his daughter's request that you attend as her maid-of-honor."
Her gaze moved to the fire, watching the flames writhe and the logs pop. "I am happy to go, I've not seen Gracia for months, but the timing is less than desirable."
"I thought you would not mind. I will remain here...your grandmother has never been my greatest admirer, as you know."
"How long must I stay?"
"At least the week."
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "With all due respect, father, that is unwise. I shouldn't stay away so long, not with Tucker so close to our door."
He gave her one of his arch smiles that meant he believed caution was getting the best of her. "He is hardly at our door. He is many miles away, as you said. Do not fret over me, my dear. Nothing will lead them to Dunairne."
"It's not my intention to be difficult, but you cannot guarantee that. No one knows where Anton's caprice may carry them, and I'm more useful here."
"You know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't feel it was important. Go...enjoy yourself." He turned, taking her hand. "There are things I need to take care of here before winter arrives, but our family must be represented at Lady Gracia's wedding."
After a moment of consideration, she consented. "Very well. When are the nuptials?"
"Eight days hence...at Lochstone." His eyes narrowed curiously. "You're generally more stubborn than this."
She smirked. "True, but you make a valid point. If you attended Althea would cause a mountain of strife for everyone." She gave a little shrug, trying to present a more relaxed air. "Tucker's proximity is simply unsettling...and I worry for you."
"That you inherited from your mother."
Riza rose, emptying the glass and kissing his cheek. "If you''ll excuse me, I'm rather drained."
"Of course." He gave her a hug. "I'll be sending Captain Stevens with you, along with a few of his men. It would look odd if I sent you with too small an escort."
"I understand, however I am certain the gossiping matrons will comment on that unusual Lord Hawkeye...allowing his daughter to travel accompanied only by a few soldiers. How could he?"
His close-lipped grin was one of amusement. "I would be happy to send more men, if you like."
"Not necessary." Riza gave him one final smile and left the room, contemplating all the preparations that would need to be completed before they left. Her time was limited and, as she was adding items to a mental list, her musings were interrupted by others. She shook her head lightly as she walked, unable to precisely identify the strange quality of the conversation with her father. He had never been what she would call a cheerful man, so his morose demeanor when she entered the study was not an anomaly. However, she had gotten the impression, fleeting though it was, that he was keeping something from her. She could not decide if he truly was, or if her vexation regarding the Drachman's had caused her to imagine it.
She set those thoughts aside, attributing them to her tendency toward concern for her father, and paused at the foot of the stairs when Master Curzon found her once more. "Shall I have your breakfast ready at the usual time tomorrow, my lady?"
"Yes, Curzon. And I've had a change in plans. Please inform Captain Stevens and Lady Maria that we are leaving in five days, and have the carriage prepared that morning with enough food for travel to Lochstone."
"Yes, my lady."
The steward paced quickly away and Riza took the stairs to her quarters, pushing the heavy door shut, lips curving in response to the cheerful ambiance of a crackling fireplace. A hot bath awaited her, with a glass of wine carefully laid out alongside fresh bread and fruit. She went about removing her clothes, pausing at her dressing table to brush the dirt from her hair and take off what little jewelry she wore. Distractedly twisting the band on her left thumb, she lowered herself into the nearest chair and fought off a shiver, still able to feel chilled echoes of the unfortunate prisoner's life force. The sensation was unique whenever she absorbed another's rivuleta vitae, as the few with her gift called it (a population comprised, to her knowledge, of herself and her father). And never before had it felt so cold, like blood freezing in her veins. It had filled her with an overwhelming sense of foreboding, and she could not shake the suspicion that something was coming.
AN: Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a good one! :)
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COOLER: I was so glad to hear the first chapter intrigued you! Thank you for checking out my story, and for your comments :)