Circle Of Sisters

22. Ambush and Artifice

With an instinct born of a naturally dangerous life, Wolf ducked just in time. The low whistle of an arrow parted his hair with the wind of it's passage. A second later, it thudded into the rump of one of the cart horses. The frightened animal reacted instantly, rearing up and trumpeting it's panic. Panic that spread like wildfire as other arrows came flying in from all directions. Wolf dove under a wagon where a dozen other gypsies sheltered. An arrow shaft stuck out from one of the cart wheels and his mind barely registered the scarlett fletching attached to the end. Scarlett dyed feathers could only mean Red soldiers. Some of the best bowmen to be found filled their ranks. Wolf knew he couldn't just sit and wait to be picked off. Only seconds had passed, yet everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He fingered his sharp belt knife, usually concealed under his shirt, but it was a small weapon, for close range fighting only. More arrows flew, and he became aware of the shouting gypsies beginning to organize themselves into some semblance of resistance. Good, he thought, letting his wolf mind take over and assess possible escape routes.

Under the next wagon were Elias and the goblin. Wolf met their eyes. Clayface looked uneasy, but Elias looked around him like he was wanting to bound into the fray. Wolf was tempted to leave him to do just that, but he had promised Virginia to keep the man from harm as best he could. So he whistled a high pitched tone that would only be audible to wolf's, or werewolf's. Getting Elias' attention, he raised a hand in the direction he had settled on as the most likely way of escape. Towards the river, where, if his memory served him, she was bounded by great expanses of sedge and marsh. The soldiers, no matter how well trained, would avoid that area if they could. He looked for Will in the chaos. He couldn't see him, but he could hear him quite well over the din. He was shouting orders, organizing some form of defense from the gypsies. Wolf didn't know why his brother was bothering helping them, but then a long wolf-growl came to his ears and the plan became clear.

"Get the cub!". It was a simple message, but not so simply done, thought Wolf, although he moved to obey instinctively. Will was the alpha male and his words had been clear enough. Wolf supposed that he would try and gather most of the male gypsies together and leave the cub undefended. Which only left the women, of course. Wolf raised his hand to the goblin and Elias, signalling to them to break cover and make for the marsh beyond the treeline. Despite his mixed feelings towards the werewolf, he still had a tense few moments until they had made it across the firing zone. He almost said a wolfish prayer for them as they disappeared. Thankfully the sun was setting and the shadows long on the ground. Hopefully the soldiers had no dogs with them.

One part of the escape secured, he backed up and scuttled over to the next wagon. His superior senses had picked out the exact positions of the soldiers, but he knew that even he could not outrun a flying arrow. So he waited for that small break in the fire as the troops reloaded their crossbows. Screaming and wailing gypsies tumbled all around him as he broke cover and headed for the enclosed wagon that he knew held his niece. It was small, gaily painted, and the back door was locked up tight. A male gypsy with an arrow bolt through his chest lay on top of the wagon. He gurgled and spat blood, and he was reaching out for help when he took another bolt through the neck. The spray of blood soaked Wolf in the face. He tasted some of it on his tongue. Human blood. Forbidden fruit, but it zinged through his awareness like a shot of swamp water. He felt giddy with sudden blood lust. Kill, kill, rip to shreds, all of them. His wolf mind sang the ancient hunting refrain as his human mind moved his hands to smack the side of his head sharply. Get the cub! He focussed his thoughts with great difficulty.

He crept to the door. It was latched from the inside and his determined tugs couldn't budge it. He knew he couldn't waste time, so he called out, softly, in the wolfen tongue. "Open the door, lift the latch!" he hissed. Above him, he heard the shift of weight on the floor of the wagon as someone pattered over to stand directly over his position.

"Bere said I wasn't 'sposed to. Said I had to stay here and not come out, he did!". Wolf silently cursed. The girl's voice was quavering with fear.

"Open the shutters then. Let me see you are safe" he spoke sharply over the sounds of battle. Or slaughter really, if the number of gypsy bodies laying about were anything to go by. More and more of them were scattering into the forest. Wolf saw Tracy and her children make the cover of the trees and breathed a sigh of relief for them. Above, in the wagon, the shutters rattled as the child drew them aside. Wolf knew he would be a sitting target, but he slipped out from underneath to peer in the side window. The little cubling had retreated back against the far wall, her eyes wide with fright, and, Wolf realised, the same battle frenzy he had in his own. The blood and death was getting to her. "Look at me" he commanded. She obeyed, and was caught. Wolf watched her carefully until he saw the change. "Come here!" he said, knowing that she would have no choice but to do it. She darted, quick and silent, towards him and he yanked at her till she came tumbling through the window and into his arms. With barely a second to spare he threw them both under the wagon as more arrows thudded into it's sides. "Hang on tight" he said to the girl, shoving her so that she was able to scramble onto his back. Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders. Wolf surveyed his escape routes. This would be the riskiest part. He himself might be able to take an arrow and survive it, but not the tiny girl-cub. He let his full wolfish awareness move his limbs, trusting it would pick the right moment. His long legs sprung into action just as the girl shouted.

"Go!" she growled, her own instincts matching his. Wolf loped the three strides to the treeline, throwing them flat against a giant oak, scrabbling around to the safe side. Spots danced in front of his eyes and he reminded himself to breathe again. A few more trees back and he relaxed just a bit more. He had been right about the soldiers wanting to avoid the marshes. Floundering sounds let him know that most of the gypsies had figured out the same thing. The noxious smell of the disturbed swampland blocked his nose and he couldn't scent Elias or the goblin anywhere nearby, but he was not concerned for them. He just wanted his brother safely away.

"Will! Come, I have the cub!" he howled. There was a deafening silence for a long moment. Surely not, he thought, heart skipping a beat. Then...

"Good, about time! Come on then, lets get out of here!"

"Papa!" the cub squeaked from his back as Wolf moved to skirt the beseiged caravans. He almost didn't see the gyspy until he was almost upon her. Lena frowned at him in the shadows. Her eyes took in the scene quickly, then she nodded brusquely.

"Go then, save the child. Goodbye Alice. Don't forget us, nor your mother..."

"Goodbye, lady Lena" stammered Alice as Wolf sidled away from the gypsy queen. With her long skirts knotted up and blood dripping from her serviceable short blade, Wolf had few doubts that she would survive this night. He jumped over the fallen body of a man, noting in passing that the livery was indeed that of soldiers of the House of Red. He wondered if this man had been amongst the travelling party they had seen a few days earlier. Game must indeed be in short supply if they were resorting to ambushing gypsies. But it was high time to leave this place. He let out a low series of growls and yips to alert Will to his location. It was only minutes before his brother came crashing through the shrubs. He was carrying an arrow in his hand and was covered in a great deal of blood.

"Lets go" he said, barely acknowledging his cub. His eyes glowed the same bright hunting red as Wolf's had done all along. He turned and led the way forward. Within minutes they were knee deep in murky marshes. Will stopped short, seemingly at a loss as to which direction to go. Wolf, who had been through these marshes before, stepped up to tap his brother's shoulder.

"This way. Keep an ear out for the others" he said in a low voice, staring at Will. "You're hurt" he said finally, blinking at the rich red drops of blood that pattered on the crushed reeds. The arrow which he had first thought his brother to be carrying was in fact stuck straight through his hand. Will glanced at it. The wicked point lay several inches from the centre of his palm.

"It's nothing, leave it be for now. Go, get us away" he said quietly, only then belatedly smiling at his daughter. "Hello Alice"

"Papa"

"Come" Wolf said, tugging on his brother's sleeve. He led the way along the edge of the swamp, eyes and ears ever on the alert for waiting soldiers. But there were none. Perhaps they had been fewer in number than he'd thought, or hadn't expected to find so many gypsies travelling together. Whatever the reason, they had withdrawn, leaving only the natural night sounds of marsh and forest in their wake. After a little way a small stone came flying out of the murk to tap Wolf. The pale green head of the goblin revealed itself.

"Ah, there you are. Thought we'd lost you, we did" Clayface said as he came forward, half-dragging Elias with him. Wolf had the distinct impression that Elias was disappointed to find him whole and unharmed. But he was too tired to bristle about it. He cast about in the dark for the right direction and led the weary group westwards. He wanted to put at least a few hours between them and the chaos of the ruined gypsy camp. He stared hard at the injury Will had sustained. The blood flow was much less, at least. He could only hope that the arrow point had not been poisoned as so many were these days.

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Scarlett twisted uncomfortably on her travelling cot. Admittedly, it was a bigger and softer bed than many in her Kingdom possessed, but the luxurious drapes and feathered cushions gave her little comfort this night. She toyed with the idea of calling her personal massuese to rub her aching back but decided against it. The woman was good, but she chattered just a bit too much. Scarlett tossed once more before giving up and swinging her legs over the side. Her bare toes tickled against the wolfskin rug on the floor. The walls of her pavillion billowed gently in the night breeze. She could tell by the position of the sliver of moon that it wasn't as late as she had first thought it. It was quiet in the camp, more than usual because a great portion of her guardsmen had veered off to intercept some gypsy folk. Some chickens had been stolen from village a way back. Scarlett thought it more likely a rouge fox than a bunch of gypsies, but she had given the men permission to find out for sure anyway. They were bored, they said. Well, Scarlett knew all about how to handle bored men at arms. Fighting or women. They would just as likely get either from the gypsies.

She drew aside the heavy drape and stepped out. She was attired for the night, and the two men guarding her tent knew better than to look directly at her. One of them coughed politely.

"Anything I can get for you, My Lady?"

"No. But build up the fire a little. I wish to sit there". Scarlett kept her words simple, not because she believed the guardsman a fool, but because as few words as possible gave little indication of what she truly wanted. Her cheeks flamed at the scandal that would cause. But she was a queen. A lonely queen. She strolled over to the central fire. Her minstrel, thinking she wanted him to sing for her, made to scrabble to his feet, but she waved him away. She sat upon her raised chair and put her hands out to the flames. It was chill tonight and many of her court ladies were grumbling to themselves when they thought she couldn't hear them. But none would dare to ask her directly where they were going, and why. Only her head guard knew their destination. He and the stranger with the mask. This same man hovered on the edge of the firelight. On impulse, Scarlett waved him over.

"Why do you wear that mask?"

"I am grievously scarred, Lady Queen. I would not wish to inflict my countenance on your prescence" the man replied. Scarlett was intrigued at his words. Spoken as fair as any courtier, yet with a rough, untutored edge to them. Maybe he was just a simple peasant after all, raised well above his station to run errands for his mistress. Scarlett thought about the message he had delivered to her. Although unsigned, she guessed that it had been written at the behest of someone with power. A woman perhaps, for only another woman would understand her hidden pain so well. Your heart hungers for justice. Just those opening words had been enough to capture Scarlett's attention. The man stood awkwardly in her presence. How much did he know? Scarlett knew she would be mortified if such things were known to common folk. Only her closest advisors might have guessed. The Queen recalled the day well.

She'd been standing about in her carefully arranged 'robes of state', the flame red hood and tall riding boots that were the symbols of her house. Recognizeable anywhere, those garments were, but her dressing maid had clearly forgotten to have someone wear in the new leather of the boots. Scarlett was musing over how to suitably punish the foolish girl when he had appeared. The soon to be King Wendell made a grand entrance, sliding unexpectedly down the banister railing and into the smothering crowd of royalty. Scarlett had only ever seen rather pompous portraits of the Prince, such as all Kings and Queen had comissioned. He had seemed fair enough of face in the one she had secretly bargained for in a village marketplace years earlier. In the flesh he was impressive. Taller than she imagined, impeccably coiffed and turned out, with a certain puppyish appeal in his eyes that brought an almost discernable blush to Scarlett's cheeks. But she was a royal lady, as well schooled in the hiding of true emotions as he would have been. So she was proud that she was able to deliver her first words to him, as part of his coronation 'challenge' with a cool and calm exterior. It would do her cause no good at all if his courtiers guessed that she had already decided to make a play for his hand. Royal courtships were ever about polite nothings on the surface and ruthless negotiations behind the scenes.

In between the pre-arranged challenge's and the Prince's responses (which Scarlett thought to be highly amusing parodies) there had been fine music and dancing. Wendell had gone first to the old maid, Cinderella, who had commandeered the only chair availible in the room. Scarlett might have despised her for that reason alone, since her feet hurt so much. But the crone had only lasted part of one dance with her over enthuastic partner, and so the way had become clear at last. Her people had already approached his people, and she saw one of them bend to whisper in Wendell's ear. His smile, when he turned it on her, with dazzling. Scarlett had fought hard not to look too impressed as he took her hand for a waltz. He hadn't seemed such an accomplished dancer for a Prince, but Scarlett had been swept away nonetheless, her aching feet left far behind. As the tune wound down, he released her from his arms and his eyes, affecting a formal bow that openly proclaimed her higher status.

"Queen Scarlett. It has been a grrr...honour to meet you at last". Scarlett bent forward in what was not quite a curtsey, sure that her cheeks were proclaiming to the whole room her scandalous thoughts.

"The House of Red greets the House of White". It was the proper, formal response expected of her. Would that she be able to say what she really wanted to. Will you court me, fair Prince? He had disappeared in a cloud of further questions and salutations. Many noble ladies fawned over him, but Scarlett had already sized them up. None of them had what she had to offer.

"For the Royal Toast, my lady". The liveried servant interupted her thoughts, handing her a silver goblet. The servant's eyes roved over her blankly and made her shiver in spite of the warmth in her heart. The stuff in the goblet looked odd, but she had quaffed it without a second's hesitation as her hopefully soon-to-be husband downed his own. A sudden fire burned in her belly and throat, and then everything went black.

A coal from the fire popped and singed the back of her hand. Scarlett jumped as the strange messenger reached down to lift it up to the light. The Queen was momentarily outraged. How dare he touch her so? But she was suddenly too heartsore to protest. The man finished his cursory inspection of the tiny burn.

"It's nothing, my Lady Queen. But, does it cause you great pain?". Scarlett knew her smile to be a frozen mask.

"Oh yes. It hurts"

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Virginia hurried forward. A growing urgency sped her steps. She had not stopped to sleep or rest for many hours since the second revelation of the mirror. Only her new knowledge of herself made her pause from time to time to take food and water. She was mentally tired with that fuzzy headed feeling, but her body was changing with every hour. Her skin still itched as extra blood flowed to muscles and tendons. Was this similar to what Wolf went through at full moon times? She decided it must be, and yet Elias had never disclosed these sensations to her. Maybe, on that dark moon night, he had not wanted to recognize them. The pain of the final transformation had been clear enough though. Virginia remembered well the sounds of breaking bones and stretching ligaments. His screaming had been worse than the werewolf's unnatural howling. Virginia tightened her resolve. She didn't want it, didn't want it, didn't want it. No matter the near intoxication she was now experiencing or the promise of ultimate power. Virginia didn't doubt what the second mirror had shown her. She would have glorious power and the will to shape the Kingdoms, but she and her army of monsters would ultimately destroy what they sought to save. Save the Kingdoms. From whom? She recalled the woman in the vision. No name or motive came to her. Virginia supposed that she would find out these things in due course. The next mirror would show her, she hoped.

There was a light ahead. It was bright, blinding to her eyes for a few moments as they became accustomed to it. Warm, rose scented air swirled gently as she came forward. Virginia held her breath in anticipation. There were voices ahead. Soft, female voices. Some, deep and musical like the tones of the Goddess, others simple human voices like her own. Virginia all but ran into the chamber, stopping short in wonder at what she saw.

"Congratulations, and welcome, Virginia"

"Who...who are you all?"

"We are the Circle of Sisters, Virginia. Come here, little one, and join us"