16th Day of Sunsebb, 565 CY
The Castle Chauv, Furyondy
Caroline and Michelle drew their swords as one.
Lady Bigfellow looked on in dismay as a still-smiling Lady Chauv; or whoever she really was, pulled forth a pendant or amulet from underneath her gown so the object dangling from it- some form of metal carved into the shape of a cobra's head- was plainly visible.
Caroline didn't think her blood could possibly turn any colder without freezing the life out of her, but apparently it could.
The Baroness spoke several words Caroline couldn't understand and tapped Michelle on her left shoulder. There was no visible effect but the governess' face broke into a savage grin of her own as she advanced on Caroline, who hugged the right-hand wall to limit the chances of her being flanked.
She's fast was Caroline's first thought as the two women dodged, parried and weaved about each other. She had hoped that whoever it was who now occupied Michelle's body was someone who was used to fighting in armor, preferably heavy armor, and would thus be at a disadvantage against Caroline's lighter and more fluid fighting style.
Unfortunately, Michelle's lack of armor didn't seem to be a handicap. Caroline's opponent was adroitly avoiding all of Lady Bigfellow's attacks. She then fainted left with her rapier and came in low from the right. Caroline's buckler (which Argo had insisted she purchase) only partially deflected the sword's thrust, which jabbed into, but not through, the bottom of Caroline's chain shirt- which Argo had also insisted she upgrade to after a fierce argument about her protection.
Husbands, Caroline thought to herself. Gotta love 'em.
She feigned a shield bash which Michelle only partially fell for, but it was enough for Caroline's sidewise longsword slash to tear across the front of Michelle's gown. Michelle let out a yelp of pain and stepped back, A small red patch was now staining the pink-and white dress.
Lady Bigfellow risked a glance over Michelle's shoulder. Lady Chauv was casting a prayer again and this time, she herself seemed to be the target. There was a very visible effect to this spell, however, as a shifting pattern of lights, white and green, now seemed to surround the Baroness like an aura.
Caroline knew she was in trouble. Whoever she really was, this person who called herself Lady Chauv was clearly some sort of dark priestess. She was probably the one who had summoned the giant serpent that had slain Sir Silverton, and was undoubtedly far more powerful than she, Caroline, could ever hope to defeat alone. Whether she just kept shining Michelle up with defensive spells until the governess triumphed or simply waited to see if her servant fell and then stepped in herself and obliterated Caroline, there could only be one ultimate outcome to this fight.
Lady Bigfellow only had one card to play.
She took a deep breath and screamed out with all her might.
"Aslan!"
Even before she'd finished the second syllable of the paladin's name, Caroline gasped in pain as her foe's rapier moved like the wind, passing over Caroline's sword and slashing across her neck. Lady Bigfellow didn't know how bad the wound was, but never spared a thought for it. Her longsword was in motion in the very half-second before Michelle could get her own sword back in parrying position.
Michelle shrieked and stepped back again, clutching at her left side.
Lady Chauv burst into laughter.
"So you brought the Talent with you, Lady Bigfellow? Ahh," the faux noble said as she turned to look down the left-hand corridor.
When she turned back to look at Caroline, Lady Bigfellow could only think, with no way to put it into coherent words, that the Baroness' wide smile now looked absolutely inhuman.
"He scouts while you stand guard? Ahh," she repeated as her expression grew thoughtful, "and your faithful spouse acts the part of distraction. And what of the ranger Elrohir? What part did you have him play?"
Lady Chauv's face lost most of its smile, although a faint grin remained as her eyes held and locked Caroline's.
"I guess I'll have to kill them all now just to be sure, won't I?"
With a snarl, Michelle attacked again, but Caroline parried. The fighter knew her neck wound was more serious than she'd hoped; with every exhalation, she could feel a tiny spurt of blood erupt from her throat. Caroline knew that talking would make it worse, so she fell silent.
"Unfortunately, Lady Bigfellow," the Baroness continued, "I always make it a habit to keep my dens completely soundproof, so I'm afraid your erstwhile hero has no idea what's going on out here."
The horrid smile returned.
"I'll just go and let him know myself, shall I?"
Lady Chauv laughed again and began to walk towards her chambers. As she vanished from sight, the white and green glow fading with her, the imposter's voice floated behind.
"Michelle, when you're done swashbuckling, have the blood cleaned up, won't you?"
Caroline could spare no more thoughts about Aslan. Her own duel was taking all of her attention. The Baroness definitely seemed to have cast some sort of protection on her ally; a sure thrust from Caroline seemed to be deflected away at the last moment by some unseen force, but it was just possible that Michelle had overestimated her own battle prowess. For the moment at least, Caroline was still holding her own.
The same thought seemed to have occurred to the governess. Switching to a defensive stance, Michelle stepped backwards while pulling a small vial of brown liquid from the folds of her bloody dress with her left hand.
Oh, no, thought Caroline.
Lady Bigfellow attacked, but Michelle was ready for it and easily parried with her rapier even as she popped the stopper on the vial with her thumb and swallowed the contents with one gulp.
Caroline had expected to see Michelle's wounds close up and the governess, refreshed, renew her assault, but that wasn't what happened.
With a frightening rapidity, All of Michelle's exposed flesh turned brown and wrinkled. Ridges sprang up over her skin as for a few seconds the sound of what sounded like branches creaking in the wind filled the corridor.
The governess' skin now looked exactly like the bark of a tree.
Having no other option, Caroline stepped forward and attacked again but Michelle made only a token attempt to dodge. Caroline's longsword bounced off Michelle's shoulder as surely as if too had been made of wood, and Lady Bigfellow was far too slow to prepare her defense.
Michelle's rapier plunged straight through Caroline's chain shirt and into her chest.
Even as the governess broke time and pulled her sword back, Caroline knew she had lost.
She knew what a punctured lung felt like and this time, there would be no Aslan the Paladin there to heal it.
The sound of the Baroness casting yet another prayer came from down the left corridor.
It was all her fault.
Within the space of one minute, Caroline Bigfellow's grand plans of exposing the truth behind the mystery of Lady Chauv's strange behavior had unraveled into absolute failure. Caroline knew she'd unknowingly lured Aslan to his imminent death from some horrific ambush. Aslan hadn't wanted to burgle Lady Chauv's room; Caroline had talked him into it, and now he, followed by her husband Argo and her best friend Elrohir, were all going to follow her into death.
Her one and only consoling thought was that she, Caroline Bigfellow, was going to die first and so wouldn't have to hear their death screams.
Wheezing, with each successive breath growing more and more difficult, Caroline attacked again. Her strike bypassed her opponent's attempt to dodge but again failed to penetrate the governess' now-woody exterior. Michelle's counterattack pierced Caroline's arm underneath the buckler. As horrible as the pain was, Caroline knew it would do little other than to hasten her death. Already, she could barely breathe.
Too weak to attack anymore, Caroline put her last reserves intro just trying to stay alive, but she knew it was only a matter of moments now.
She was surprised that some part of her brain was still able to process the sound of a key turning in a lock from down the left-hand corridor.
"Hello, Aslan," she dimly heard the Baroness say alongside the sound of a door opening, "I've come to-"
There was a pause.
"What the-"
The sounds of crashing wood and the subsequent female scream were so loud that even Michelle ceased attacking. Still keeping her rapier in battle position, the swashbuckler glanced behind her.
Splaying a trail of blood behind her, the airborne form of Lady Chauv came hurtling down the corridor and crashed into the right-hand wall of the main hallway, coming to rest only about five feet behind the governess.
Despite the copious amount of blood that seemed to be coming from two deep gashes in her side; Caroline couldn't possibly imagine Aslan's longsword, which after all was no bigger than her own, having made those wounds, the Baroness swiftly rose to her feet, her form still surrounded by the green and white glow.
"Finish her off, damn you!" she yelled at Michelle.
The governess launched a compound attack on Caroline, utilizing multiple feints in an attempt to pierce Lady Bigfellow's defenses, or at the least to entice her into attempting an attack herself which would leave the fighter open to a riposte, but Caroline found her opponent's blade and directed it into the wall, all the while maintaining her posture of total defense.
Maybe, Caroline, thought, she might live long enough to see at least one of their enemies perish before she did.
Given the severity of the attack that Lady Chauv had apparently been subjected to, Caroline was not altogether surprised to see Aslan, once more in the form of Grock the ogre, squeeze his large bulk through the narrow corridor and emerge into the main hallway.
What she was not expecting to see was the double-bladed greataxe, dripping fresh blood, clutched in the ogre's right hand instead of his longsword.
And never, even staring into approaching death as she was, could Caroline Bigfellow imagine the berserk rage that she now saw for the first time ever on the paladin's face.
"How do YOU like it?" Grock bellowed at the Baroness, who was now regaining her breath and her composure. She regarded the ogre, her own face an expressionless mask.
Aslan turned to Caroline.
"CAROLINE!" the ogre roared. "HE'S THE ONE! HE'S THE ONE WHO HURT TAD!"
Caroline gazed at him, uncomprehending.
He?
Grock pointed one massive hand, now the size of Caroline's buckler, at Lady Chauv.
"He's not FROM the Emerald Serpent!" the paladin bellowed. "He IS the Emerald Serpent! And he's not human! He's some kind of snake creature!"
It was only this last statement that caused Michelle to momentarily turn back towards the Baroness in open-mouthed confusion.
"What?" she asked right before Caroline's longsword came arcing up and over behind her.
With blinding speed, the swashbuckler turned to parry, but with equal speed, the arc of Caroline's sword shifted at the last moment and with the sound of snapping wood, severed Michelle's right hand just behind the wrist.
"Timber," said Caroline.
The Baroness of Chauv, whoever he, she, or it really was, took no notice of Michelle's screams, or of her servant slumping down against the wall, cradling the stump of her hand. The noblewoman simply glanced over at Caroline and then back at Aslan.
"Both of you," she said. "Drop your weapons."
Before she could even register that statement, Caroline Bigfellow's hand opened of its own accord and her longsword fell out of it. She heard the sound of her weapon's blade clanging on the stone floor mixed with the identical sound of Aslan's greataxe doing the same.
Caroline knew of the clerical prayer that Talass called command; had seen her use it, but the priestess of Forseti had always said only one person at a time could be so affected.
Lady Bigfellow knew she was out of her league here- indeed, she always seemed to be- but for Aslan to succumb as easily as she had meant there was little hope.
Argo, she thought to herself. My love…
Caroline bent down to try and retrieve her blade, but the effort seemed to shut her whole body down. She was no longer drawing in enough air, and the stabbing pains in her neck, chest and left side all seemed to explode at once. Sight and hearing merged into an indistinguishable chaos, and she felt her knees give way.
She wound up half-sitting, half-laying against the floor next to Michelle, who seemed to be in a similar incapacitated state.
Caroline could now see and hear again, but neither sense was operating at full capacity. The loudest thing she could hear was the wheezing sound her own lungs were making, trying to draw in enough air to survive. And what see saw, mostly because her neck was too weak to lift her head, was the pool of her own blood underneath her.
"And now," she managed to hear the being Aslan had identified as the Emerald Serpent say, "it's time we finished this. You've had your moment in the sun, paladin. I hope you treasured it."
Caroline turned her head slightly to the right. Even in her lowered field of vision, she saw Grock bend down and retrieve the battleaxe.
And as he did so, Lady Chauv grasped her cobra-headed symbol in one hand and lightly touched Grock's massive, hairy arm with the other and spoke a single word.
"Die."
Aslan's eyes rolled back in his head.
The ogre's body jerked upright and began to sway backward. The axe again fell out of his hand.
Caroline's mouth opened wide, but she didn't even have the strength to scream anymore.
She tried to close her eyes; she wanted to close her eyes; she didn't want to see it happen, she couldn't…
But it didn't happen.
Slowly, Grock's beady brown eyes returned to stare at the Baroness. The same rage that Caroline had seen earlier was still burning in them. The ogre was still swaying, and Caroline could only guess at what kind of pain the prayer had subjected him to.
And now it was Aslan the Paladin who spoke a single word.
"Smite."
And with a speed so fast Caroline knew he must have learned the maneuver from Tojo, Aslan drew his longsword from his scabbard with one fluid motion and impaled the Emerald Serpent against the wall with it.
Caroline didn't know if Lady Chauv screamed or not. All her senses jumbled together again, and then left her.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aslan saw Caroline topple over.
"No!"
For what seemed like the hundredth time today, the paladin cursed himself. He'd given in- willingly- to the fury that had first engulfed him when his Talent had shown him that accursed greataxe lopping off Tadoa's limbs one by one.
The child screaming. The blood spurting. The snake-thing laughing.
He prayed to Odin that he wasn't too late- that one of the best friends he had in all the Three Worlds, despite all the times she'd driven him to frustration and exasperation- wasn't going to bleed to death on a stone floor because Aslan thought that exacting vengeance had become more important than anything else.
Because if Lady Bigfellow was already dead, then Aslan was going to throw away his paladinhood- and this time, he'd do it willingly.
Maybe, he thought as he yanked his blade out and watched Lady Chauv crumple to the ground, Nodyath was right all along.
Grock resheathed his sword, scooped up Michelle with one hand and tossed her carelessly against the opposite wall, then resumed his human shape as he knelt down next to Caroline's unmoving form.
Aslan laid his hands on Caroline and prayed.
All-Father. The power is not mine. It is yours, and always was. It is your gift.
He didn't know when he'd closed his eyes, but Aslan knew why. He didn't want to see the consequences of his failure. He couldn't bear to see it…
But it didn't happen.
Aslan felt Caroline stirring underneath his hands and opened his eyes just in time to see Caroline open hers. They just stared at each other while Aslan used every last ounce of his paladin's grace and then switched to his Talent. He knew this probably wasn't a tactically sound move. Between his teleport, the object reading, his polymorph and an ineffective psionic blast he'd fired off at the Serpent while trying to squeeze down that narrow corridor, Aslan was much lower in Talent than he'd prefer to be.
But Caroline wasn't going to suffer because of his mistakes; because he hadn't believed her incredible story.
There'd be no new scars because of him.
Still, neither spoke.
Caroline's hand slowly moved to her throat which, while still covered in blood, was now smooth again.
"So, Caroline," Aslan eventually managed, still breathing heavily. "Was I good?"
Caroline gave him a weak smile and held her hand out sideways.
"You'll do."
Awkwardly, they hugged.
"How touching," came a voice from their right.
Aslan pulled Caroline upright with him as the two turned to face Lady Chauv again.
The Emerald Serpent was just straightening up now, but the hand not grasping her pendant was moving away from the front of her heavy gown.
There was no doubt in the paladin's mind that the Serpent had just healed itself.
"Going the moral route and doing the right thing instead of seeing the job through to completion," the Baroness said softly but with a mocking expression on her face, her words mirroring Aslan's inner thoughts exactly.
"I must say, paladin- I'm thankful."
Aslan drew his word again and advanced as the Emerald Serpent retreated. The paladin assumed that Caroline would be retrieving her sword as well, but he didn't dare take his eyes off his foe.
He said nothing further. Aslan knew his anger had already once doomed him today. He wasn't going to let that happen again.
Continuing to retreat, the Baroness was now moving down the right-hand corridor that led towards Michelle's room. The door to it was ajar.
Tactical scenarios raced through the paladin's mind. Was there something back there his enemy could use? Another weapon perhaps, or was she intending to make her stand here, in a corridor too narrow for Aslan to be able to use Grock's bulk effectively?
At least Lady Chauv hadn't bothered to retrieve the greataxe, and Aslan had no further interest in it. For one, he didn't want risk exposing himself even for one second to some attack of opportunity from the Serpent that he might open himself up to.
And for another, there was just something wrong about that axe.
It felt far too easy to hurt someone with that weapon.
Far too enjoyable.
The Emerald Serpent stopped just shy of the door.
"I see that the young elf has told you all about his happy times with me," she said.
Aslan did not reply as he continued to advance. He was through being baited.
"But tell me, oh holy one," the Baroness continued, the smile returning to her face now, "did he tell you about this?"
Her right hand pulled something out of the left-hand sleeve of her dress.
It was a thin, black wand.
Aslan's eyes widened in alarm and he lunged forward, his sword already in motion, but his strike bounced off the green and white light still surrounding his foe.
The Emerald Serpent pointed the wand at him and hissed something.
Aslan exploded.
Never, never in his life had he felt such pain. It encompassed every square inch of his body at once. His skin, his muscles, his bones, even his hair seemed as it were burning, melting him away. Even screaming was difficult, because inhaling brought with it additional pain.
But he managed it.
This was even worse than the Serpent's prior attempt to kill him. The slay living prayer had not damaged him in the physical sense; it had almost felt like Aslan was falling asleep, but the feeling had been a hundred times more intense, as if his consciousness was being forcibly ripped out of his body, and even after he had somehow managed to resist its effect, a portion of him still felt- it was hard to describe- spiritually dead.
But this- this was nothing but torment. It was everywhere, above and below him. He was swimming in a sea of liquid agony. Even the pain itself gave him nothing to focus on. One instant he was burning to ash, the next freezing into an icy corpse. Then he was being torn apart, and the next instant crushed into a bloody pile of assorted organs.
Aslan could no longer see- he felt as if his eyeballs had burst. He even had no idea if he was still standing or not. The outside world was gone, and all he could do was pray.
But this time, Aslan the Paladin was praying to die.
Caroline had been listening to the sounds growing louder outside the door at the far end of the corridor; shouts, arguing, mailed boots stomping. People were coming up the stairs and they were coming fast.
They'd be here in moments.
Ignoring Michelle, who still lay groaning on the floor, Caroline had just started heading towards the door to open it when she heard Aslan start screaming.
The young woman spun around, her longsword still in hand, and began running back down the hallway when The Emerald Serpent reappeared, walking slowly and casually towards her.
In her right hand, the Baroness was holding a black wand of some kind that Caroline knew in an instant was responsible for whatever was making Aslan scream out in agony as he was doing.
Caroline slowed her charge but kept moving forward. She wasn't going to let this- this thing- get away with what it'd done to Aslan. With what it had done to everyone.
Tad. Kingus. Sir Silverton. Baron Chauv. The real Lady Chauv. The real Michelle.
And how many others? Dozens? Hundreds?
The Baroness stopped, standing directly over the greataxe now, although she made no move to retrieve the weapon. Instead, she pointed her wand at Caroline, who just couldn't seem to make her trembling body move fast enough.
"Two in one day," she said over Aslan's continuing scream; that inhuman smile back in full force now. "I rarely get so lucky."
"Hope you splurged on the type with extra charges, then."
An arrow whizzed by, inches over Caroline's left shoulder, and with a resounding thwunk buried itself in Lady Chauv's forehead.
Caroline whirled around. The voice had been that of her husband, but it was Elrohir who had released the arrow and was now moving forward, shouting for the paladin.
Argo, Harve in hand, was heading straight towards the fake Baroness, who had again fallen to the floor but was still very conscious. With an angry hiss, she reached up and yanked the arrow out of her forehead, ignoring the fresh blood coming from the wound.
Caroline was about to cry out to her husband when someone grabbed Argo from behind.
"What are you doing? Both of you, stop this at once! Mother! Mother! What's going on?"
Sir Kenneth Chauv was grappling with Argo while shouting for the two guards who had ascended with him to stop Elrohir.
Caroline moved to intercept the guards, feeling like the whole situation was- yet again- spiraling out of control in slow motion when she heard another voice.
"My lord; stand down and have your men do so as well!"
It was Dyland, the Barony's cleric of Heironeous. Caroline had seen him several times at the tournament. Wearing his gold and white cassock over his chainmail armor, the priest moved into the crowded hallway and placed his hand on Kenneth's shoulder from behind.
"Please, my lord," he repeated. "Trust in the Invincible One. He will put this to right."
Caroline saw the two guards, both with hands on their sword hilts, glance over at Sir Chauv, clearly looking for instruction. Elrohir had stopped as well, if only in an effort to defuse the situation.
Kenneth Chauv looked around, his eyes wild, trying to take in the whole situation. He looked utterly lost.
But what seemed to decide it for him were the continuing screams from down the corridor ahead.
"Very well," he said, "but no further violence!"
Elrohir stepped up, his bow still in hand and an arrow aimed directly down at Lady Chauv. He'd have much preferred to rush to Aslan's aid, but Argo and Dyland were already dashing down the corridor.
"Guess I should have been your archery champion, my Lady," he said to the figure beneath him.
The Baroness had replaced her wand, but her left hand now lay on the hilt of the bloody greataxe.
"Don't even think about it," Elrohir warned her.
She smiled at him.
"If you don't know how to lose, Tri-Worldian," she said softly, "then you don't know how to win."
And then, as fast as Aslan's polymorphing, she was gone, as was the battleaxe. Only a small green snake, perhaps a foot long, remained on the floor.
The snake darted for a nearby hole in the wall. Elrohir fired but the arrow shattered on the flagstones an inch from the serpent, and it disappeared into the opening.
"Mother!" he heard Sir Chauv cry out, but Caroline Bigfellow had already moved forward and grasped the young knight by both shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Kenneth," Caroline said, her eyes now sparking with tears, "but your mother died over three weeks ago."
The screaming stopped, replaced by gasping and moaning and a few seconds later, Argo and Dyland reappeared, supporting the paladin between them.
Caroline gasped in horror. Aslan's skin was wracked with horrible yellow boils, many of which had burst. The paladin's eyes were milky white, and blood seeped from their corners.
Yet even as she watched, the boils shrank and disappeared, and Aslan's eyes returned to their normal light blue. Yet the paladin still looked as if he would collapse if either of the men on his sides were to let go.
"My Lord…"
Caroline looked over. Michelle, now sitting upright on the floor, was now holding out both arms to Sir Chauv in supplication.
The knight stared at his governess; her missing hand, her blood-soaked dress.
Then he seemed to notice her bark-like skin, and the rapier still lying on the floor nearby.
He turned to his guards. "Take her down to the dungeon."
They nodded and pulled Michelle to her feet and half-walked, half-dragged her to the stairs.
"I'll go with them, just to be sure," Dyland said. He looked over at Elrohir. "If you would, sir..."
Elrohir nodded and he, along with Argo, managed to slowly lower Aslan to a sitting position on the floor, near where Michelle had just been as Dyland moved off to accompany the guards and their prisoner, but not before grasping his holy symbol of a fist clutching a lightning bolt and incanting at Michelle, whose skin immediately resumed its normal appearance.
The door closed behind them.
It took close to three minutes for Aslan to regain some semblance of his composure, and even that only after he had placed his hand over his heart and utilized his Talent again for healing.
He, Argo and Caroline Bigfellow, Elrohir and Sir Chauv all silently regarded one other.
Elrohir spoke first.
"Was that- the Emerald Serpent?"
Sir Chauv gasped but Aslan nodded, his expression grim. The paladin still did not speak.
"He- it knows, Aslan," Elrohir said at length. "It called me a Tri-Worldian."
"What does that mean?" asked Kenneth, but no one answered him.
Argo, all of his trademark humor absent from his expression, turned his head to regard the small hole in the wall directly opposite them.
"Any chance it's still in there, waiting for us to leave?" he asked. "Maybe that's just a dead end."
"I don't think so, love," his wife responded, shaking her head. "The Serpent has had weeks to prepare its den. I suspect we'll find holes like that all over the castle if we check."
Sir Chauv took a deep breath as he stood up. "I do not wish to be kept in the dark about this any longer," he said, starting to regain his officious mien. "I will speak with that woman to determine whether she is or is not Michelle, but you obviously know more than I do, and if-"
His voice caught.
"-if my mother is truly dead, then I am the new Baron of Chauv, and I demand that you tell me everything you have learned of this matter!"
"We are in great danger, my Lord," said Elrohir, also rising to his feet now.
"Who is we?"replied the knight, who clearly found this response inadequate. "You and I? My household? This barony?"
"This world," said Aslan.