Mistress Wolf

Season of the Phoenix - 1304 AE

She slid her blade from the Norn's side and placed her sandaled foot on his stomach and pushed slightly. He folded over, the massive hammer that provided so great a threat falling heavily to the muddied ground. Wolf regarded his fallen frame with detached interest. He had fought to the last, and even then he had almost won. A worthy opponent. She turned from him and let her gaze scan the carnage that surrounded her. Madam Strange had been thorough in her destruction as always.

She rubbed her paw against the leathery skin of her left shoulder. The cold and the mist always snuck into her bones and caused her to ache. She drew a deep breath that tasted of blood and death before picking her way across the broken bodies of Vanjir's Stead denizens towards Madam Strange. As far as she could tell there was only one survivor.

Madam Strange saddled the wooden safety box, her hands held tautly against its side. Her black eyes glinted as she surged necrotic power against it. Wards blossomed around the box, white hot and shining as they repelled the dark magic. Madam Strange let loose a frustrated cry and slammed her fist against the box.

"Mistress Wolf, I find this most disagreeable!"

"I can see that Madam Strange."

Blood from the corpses saturated the terrain and mingled with the wet earth. It made squelching sounds as she made her way across it. The lodge and its outhouses burned cheerfully in the background. The roar of the fire bellowed across the landscape. Soon the bodies that littered its front yard would join in its merriment. Mistress Wolf liked fire.

"Have you tried sweet-talking it Madam Strange."

She heard a muffled snort from the box followed by a bang as Madam Strange hit its rough surface again.

"I am going to murder this little bast-"

"Language."

Madam Strange cleared her throat and ran her hands down the fullness of her skirt. The decaying leaves on her head stood in disarray. She ran a calming hand across them in an attempt to regain order amongst their chaotic mass.

"I beg your pardon, Mistress Wolf. What I meant to say is; I will help facilitate the movement of this dear child's soul into Grenth's loving embrace."

The last was said with vehemence and was preceded by a slap against the warded timber of the box. Madam Strange had been worrying at its wooden surface for a while now. Mistress Wolf had a great deal of appreciation for its maker. Obviously the Norn who had crafted it had planned for every eventuality.

"He is Norn, Madam Strange; they have a different set of deities."

"Oh yes. The animals. That explains so much."

She glared at the box.

"Mistress Wolf, do you think your talents as an arsonist will make any difference against it."

There was a muffled thump as the young Norn started. He couldn't be comfortable in that box. It was obviously made for a child, and the boy had outgrown it long ago. As it was, he had contorted his body to fit in its space. That being said, the box was so large that straddling it as she was Madam Strange's knees just reached its edge, and her feet hung suspended far off the muddied ground. The front of the safe box was riddled with the remnants of the bar, left over from when Mistress Wolf tore it from the safety of its embrace.

She regarded it, and then walked around it. Occasionally she tapped against it and listened to the hollow sounds it produced. She could hear the boy squirming out of reach. Madam Strange hopped off its bulk and moved to the hammer wielding Norn Mistress Wolf had just dispatched. Mistress Wolf hunkered down and examined the box closely. She ran the scarred paw of her left arm against its rough length. Wards bloomed in its path, runic symbols danced across its surface. They meant nothing to Mistress Wolf. She grunted, and then did the same on the opposite side.

"Fire won't work against this, Madam Strange. Whoever built it had planned for every outcome. Nothing you or I could do to it would make any difference unless the boy opened up for us. It's an amazing piece of work. It's a pity we killed the craftsman."

Madam Strange sniffed disdainfully and fiddled with the corpse. She poured necrotic energy over it in green tinged black waves. Under her malevolent gaze it began to twitch then stand. Sweat, or a form of it, broke out across her forehead and her hands trembled then contorted as more power flowed between her fingers and into the corpse of the Norn. Mistress Wolf could feel goosebumps break out across her skin as the Madam Strange's power filled the clearing. While invisible, it felt thicker than the mist and smelt worse than the death and smoke that surrounded them. Madam Strange's black eyes became bottomless, and her bracken mouth opened in a grimace. Mistress Wolf took a step back, and then another. She didn't understand what it was that Madam Strange was trying to accomplish, but knew whatever it was it would be deadly. She crouched down behind the safe box and tucked her tail between her legs. Its fluffy white tip tickled against her nose. Being amoral as she was, Mistress Wolf rarely regarded anything as good or evil, but since she had taken service with Madam Strange her outlook on good and evil had definitely changed. Mistress Wolf provided a service. She would kill anyone - man, woman or child – so long as she got paid. She felt nothing for the act or the victims she left in her path. All that meant anything to her was the gold she received for the service she provided. Madam Strange was different. She got … pleasure… from the act of murder or torture. It was almost sexual in its intensity. When her victims were dead and the cries of their begging still, she would try to raise them so that she could do it again. It sickened Mistress Wolf. She might not have much in the way of honour, but she still believed in having respect for the dead.

The corpse was fresh enough to look lifelike. It staggered forward like a puppet having its strings pulled. Mistress Wolf risked a glance at Madam Strange, she was shaking, her hands outstretched before her with a thin line of green tinged power connecting her heart to the corpse in front of her. Her fingers twitched and froze according to the movements of copse. Her black gaze was relentless and utterly focused.

It stumbled over its slain brethren until it stood in front of the safe box. Its head dropped and its empty gaze fell on the box. The wards that were only briefly disturbed by Madam Strange and her tampering lit up like the midday sun. They spun around its surface with increasing speed until Mistress Wolf could no longer differentiate between the individual runes. They were a white blur. Yelping she jumped away from the box. It burned.

"Son." said the corpse, his lips moving along with Madam Strange's. "Open the box, boy. I've chased them away."

Gall raised in her throat, the skin of her maw scrunched up as she regarded the abomination and its wielder with disgust.

"Father?" a muffled voice sounded from the box. "You died," a sob, "I heard you die."

"I pretended" said Madam Strange/Nero. "They are gone now. I chased them away. It's ok now. I'll protect you."

On padded feet, Mistress Wolf walked away from the scene. Her heart constricted in her chest as she listened to the consoling tones of the corpse to the boy in the box. Madam Strange played dirty. Once some distance was put between her and the scene, she stood with her back to it. Her burnt hand rubbed over the cloth of her tunic where her heart would be. She heard the murmur of voices awhile longer before the lock of the safe box clicked. There was an anguished cry that was cut off suddenly before Madam Strange joined her once more.

They both stood with their back to Vanjir's Stead, the crackling of the fire at their backs. Madam Strange was exhausted. Her bracken like flesh had grey tinges of exhaustion interwoven amongst the browns and green tones. Her twig like arms were wrapped about her middle and her black eyes had lost their glint. She breathed in hollow gasps. She placed her hand on the scarred tissue of Mistress Wolf's left arm.

"There can be no witnesses" she said.

"Why? Are you frightened that your siblings will discover your transgressions?"

"More like cousins… And yes. They can never know of my existence."

"Very well."

"You are angry?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Did you use the corpse of the boy's father to kill him?"

"Do you really want to know?" she asked. Her hand tightened on Mistress Wolf's arm and her eyes lifting to meet hers.

"No."

"Good. Let's take care of the corpses then be on our way."

"Where to?"

"Why, the Lost Owl Shrine of course. Where else?"

Author's Note.

The summary used to describe what happens in the story doesn't fit ... yet. If any of you would be so kind as to write a new one for me and pop it into my inbox I would be extremely grateful. I know its awfully cheeky to ask, but I am desperate.

Thank you kindly

KittiWithKatana