And Fall: Chapter 8

When she felt the barest edges of a chill that was greater and deeper than the wind whistling in the trees, she knew they were close. She no longer had Nathaniel's great cloak to ward off the cold, and unlike in years past she did not ride to battle on horseback. Instead, she crept on paths she could barely make out, surrounded on all sides by Avvar warriors who were simultaneously guides, comrades, and captors.

She guessed that they had left the settlement close on three hours ago, armed and streaked with war paint. Nathaniel had jokingly murmured in her ear that it smelled a lot like kaddis, and she could only nod, only feel the momentary wash of relief.

If she lost herself, at least she would take nobody else with her.

Lothar had travelled with them as far as the outermost fields. It had taken her longer than she cared to admit to recognize them for what they were; they grew not swaths of a single crop, but a mottling of different plants, the same roots they had eaten the night before, and they grew them even now in the winter. They were small. There were no oxen to till the soil, and trees still grew, if sparsely. They was certainly not Fereldan fields, but the end of them marked the end of home.

He had spoken quietly with Herleva, then turned and addressed them all, telling them to never stray forward if they didn't have to. It had a heavy note of leaving her and Nathaniel to their deaths, but she couldn't blame him, or any of them. She had nodded and thanked them all for their aid.

And Lothar had come to her, and taken her hand, and reminded her of her oath.

She flexed her fingers at the memory of it. Temporary service, she thought again. It was a more than acceptable trade, and one she was eager to make if it only meant she would be free of what she had become. The Avvars were no Fereldans - but temporary was not a lifetime.

Temporary service, or death. Cauthrien took a steadying breath, then came to walk close at Nathaniel's side, leaning in.

"If," she murmured, low enough that the others couldn't hear, "this goes poorly- if it doesn't free me, or if I become uncontrollable-"

"I'll end it," he promised, and his gloved hand found hers. "I trust in you, but I won't allow you to suffer."

"Thank you."

"Hold!" came Odalric's voice, and the group stopped. Cauthrien let her fingers wind tight around Nathaniel's for a moment longer, then pulled away, hand going to the hilt of her sword. "This is where it begins," Odalric said. "Keep your eyes open and your weapons close at hand. And if they come for you, run. Fight again when their backs are turned."

He was answered with quiet grunts of assent, and Herleva nodded, then looked to Cauthrien and Nathaniel. "You two," she said, "go in first. We will draw them from you."

"Thank you," Cauthrien said and bowed her head. Nathaniel echoed her.

Herleva huffed a laugh. "Fool Fereldans. Hakkon Wintersbreath keep you, so that you at least don't freeze to death where you fall."

Nathaniel snorted, and Cauthrien felt her lips quirk in turn, and then, with a nod, they moved to the front of the group and led them further into the trees.

Without their guides to lead them, the path became harder to find. It was narrow and at places she couldn't make it out, but she pressed forward all the same. The others dropped behind, but kept pace at a distance.

"Do you remember this place?" Nathaniel asked. She pulled her sword free as they moved and checked once again the balance of it. It wasn't what she would have chosen herself, but it was well-made and better than a broom or tooth and claw. Rolling her shoulders, she glanced to him.

And she tried to think. Four months ago she had been led by a dream, and had followed a path that had seemed not to be there at all. It was much like the path they were on now. Did that mean that she had followed an Avvar trail, or did that mean that they even now drew closer to the demon? Did it mean both?

"We're approaching from a different direction," she settled on, no answer at all. But he nodded all the same.

Another few prowling steps, and she heard it - the sudden fall off of birds in the trees, the sudden quieting of everything. Her skin crawled and she felt the itch of fur just behind her ears, more nerves than the change coming on, more a warning than anything else. She lifted her sword, and behind her, Nathaniel nocked an arrow, following her lead.

"Soon?" he asked, and as she nodded the first screech shattered the deathly quiet.

He loosed his arrow before she even saw the corpse lunging for them, jaw gaping wide and teeth too sharp for a human. She ducked low as it crashed forward, clawing at itself where the arrow punched through its throat. A quick strike to its knees with the flat of her blade and it was down, and she was on her feet once more, whirling and scanning the trees for more.

Two shadows were heralded by the crashing of branches, and Cauthrien shouted, "There!" before she dove forward, striking one with her shoulder and taking the other's head off. An arrow thunked into the tree trunk beside her, and a third found its home in the remaining corpse's belly.

Behind her she could hear others. The breaking of branches and the shouts of the Avvar warriors pierced through the air. She looked back to see Odalric slam into the chest of one of the corpses, and Herleva put an arrow through another's eye. One of the other women began to beat the pommel of her short sword against the hide shield she carried. The dull thudding drew the shifting, creaking dead towards them, and Cauthrien let out a shuddering breath. There were too many of them - too many for her to have ever faced on her own.

But the plan was working.

"What direction? Lead, Cauthrien!" Nathaniel called, and she nodded, turning back to the task before them and scanning the trees for any sign of the almost-path. She couldn't see it. But the cold tugged at her from just ahead, and she pushed forward.

"This way," she said, and he was at her side in an instant, keeping her back as she pressed on. The trees grew closer together, and at first she doubted.

And then an arrow not theirs and not Avvarian struck the ground before her feet and she swore, breaking into a run in the direction it had come from, crouched low and praying she could reach the shooter before it found a better aim.

"Left!" Nathaniel shouted, and she veered. She caught a flash of white between the trees and made for it, and in another instant she was on a skeleton, with an old Avvar bow and its bones stained dark in places and bleached in others. The flat of her blade struck its spine and it crumpled, fell magic dispersing in a shuddering rush up her arms.

She heard another cry, another shriek, and the creak of his bow, but she was too busy pushing through the trees. The spell had left her from her side, and she followed where it led, panting for breath and grinning from the glory of battle. It had been too long since she had held a blade, too long since she had hunted as she was meant to hunt.

There were voices in the distance, Herleva's and Odalric's and the others', more spread out than before but just as loud. The woods echoed with the howling of the stalking corpses, and she met two more in a break in the trees. Her blade cleaved the head from one, but the other got behind her, its rusted blade scraping raw over her shoulder. It didn't cut deep where it found a break in her armor, but it was enough to draw a roar from her as her pommel struck its skull, the bone buckling beneath.

Somewhere behind her, Nathaniel followed, but the chill was strong and she shot for it, feet pounding across the ground. The trees thinned, and thinned, until finally she stumbled into the clearing she had found so many months ago.

This was it. This was the place. And the demon...

She saw no sign of it, and she turned, blade outstretched and eyes wild. It was like she was a beast already, and she listened for any tinkling of bells and chains, lifted her nose to the air to search it for the scent of something beyond the real. Every sense was alight. And if her grin had turned wolfish-

"Cauthrien!"

She could feel it, roaring in her veins and making her mouth water. Her teeth began to sharpen, her jaw growing hot and aching as it began to stretch. The pain made her panic, made her cry out and jerk against the empty air. She fought it. She fought the way her hands twitched, the way her knees began to buckle.

And for a few moments, she thought she could win. She was strong, stronger than she had been since it all began, and she would not bow. But then she bent double with the ripping pain of her spine shifting, and she heard a low chuckle on the wind that was not Nathaniel's.

"Looking for something, little knight?"