Couple of things I'd like to say:
First: Thank you once again, annbe11, for letting me borrow the term "lunar tigris"/"lunar tiger" from High Priestess Marci (I still recommend that if you haven't read it. The second chapter is up, and it's really good—very amusing too). I think it sounds better than just calling Sagan a "night-beast". (I wouldn't want to hurt his feelings)
Second: In answer to Gamma-X's questions: I made Vylgranox up, he's an OC of sorts. The "Thunder", assuming that my facts are right (shout if I'm wrong), is the song connecting the dragons. It's what Davion is starting to hear in his head, and isn't Vylgranox's element. As for what his power is... you'll have to wait and see, but Gamma-X did mention something which sounded awesome, so thanks for that, Gamma-X.
Without further ado, on with the show...
Chapter Eight
Others Before Herself
They had been ascending the narrow path for the better part of a day now. Mirana did not want to stop yet, and Davion agreed with her. There was not enough room to shelter here, and the driving winds would make lighting a fire difficult. Once they had gained the top, they would stand a chance of finding a decent place to stop.
Davion could feel the cold moving in. He could not see it yet, but he had the feeling that a blizzard was moving in.
Not good. It would delay them for a day, maybe longer.
Marci shivered next to him, wrapped up in a thick wool jerkin and a fur-lined cloak. She seemed to dislike the cold more than Mirana did. Davion was fairly used to it, given how often he had been in and out of Weiß Wache.
Marci offered him a brave, grim half-smile. He had to admire her. She was utterly loyal to Mirana, not counting the times she had stubbornly persuaded the Princess to help save his life.
They finally stopped at the top of the path. Davion found them a sheltered spot behind a series of boulders not far from the edge. It was poor shelter, but it was better than nothing.
They huddled together with Sagan behind them. From where they sat, they could see the horizon stretch into a distant grey mass. Haupstadt was easy to spot, a blocky pale mass sat amidst the forests which bordered it, ribbons of stone and dirt running like rivers through the green and brown.
How many of those roads had Davion been down? He had never given it much thought.
The gusts of cold wind did not drive the strange song from his head. All he could do was try not to listen to it. It had become a little clearer, and whenever he let himself listen to it he felt the scales start to slice through his skin. It was part of the change, ignoring it was critical.
Davion looked over the top of Marci's head, the auburn hair gathered at the back of her head tickling his chin. She was still shivering. Poor girl.
'Are you sure about this, Mirana?' Davion called over the wind.
'Yes.' Mirana was bundled up in her cloak. Davion was starting to wonder about them. The Nightsilver Woods were not as frigid as the Broken Peaks, but still... he was starting to wonder if that was where Mirana and Marci actually came from. He had the impression that they might have come from elsewhere, somewhere warmer. 'Marci, have you figured out what that amulet does yet?'
Marci reached under her jerkin and pulled out the amulet. She held it out for Mirana, who took it in her hand and frowned at it. 'It's not doing anything.'
It was Marci's turn to frown. She took the amulet back and held it up for them to see. Davion saw a little spot of golden light appear in one corner. 'That's new,' he commented. 'Move it around a bit.'
Marci adjusted the position. The dot moved around the amulet, pointing in the same direction.
'It's like a compass.' Mirana realised. She took hold of it and frowned again. The dot had vanished. She handed it back to Marci and Davion saw the spot of light appear again. 'But it only works for you, Marci. Why? Did that shopkeeper say?'
Marci shook her head and stowed the amulet under her tunic again.
'I know what you're going to say,' Davion had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind, 'but I have to ask: what are you looking for?'
Mirana scowled. 'I told you, that isn't your concern.'
Marci nudged her, her eyes narrowed.
'No, Marci, we've talked about this. Let it go.'
Marci pouted and folded her arms, resuming her shivering.
'Once Sagan is ready, we'll press on.' Mirana declared. She reached into one of the saddlebags and passed round strips of jerky. 'Try to get some rest.'
Marci scoffed shakily. Davion saw her point. Rest was a tall order up here.
Sagan clambered to his feet and yawned widely. Davion wafted his breath away with a gloved hand, his nose wrinkled.
'Let's go.' Mirana told them, slinging her pack over her shoulders.
Marci was not enjoying this at all. She had admittedly found the early days of this quest exciting. Climbing this freezing hell of a mountain would not be a high point of the journey, not for her.
Rasolir had been warm. The Nightsilver Woods might not have been quite as warm by comparison, but they had not been icy cold. As well clad as she was, she could feel her fingers and toes going numb.
But they had a job to do. Where Mirana went, so did she. Marci steeled herself, tried to suppress the shivers, and trudged after the Princess and Sagan. Davion stayed at her side.
'You know, I can't help but envy you.'
Marci looked over at Davion, puzzlement written all over her face.
'I can't carry that much on my back.' Davion elaborated. 'Nor can I take a man down with a single punch. How do you do it?'
Marci shrugged and made indications with her hands, accompanied by a few whistles.
'Sorry, I didn't get all of that.'
Marci tried again, more slowly this time. It was not easy to explain to him, he was nowhere near as well practised as Mirana was.
'You're not sure?'
Marci nodded, glad he had finally understood.
It was the truth. She had always been stronger than she appeared. Even when she had been a child, she had been strong. She had been stronger than her brothers, and out of all of them had been the most likely to get into scraps.
Her mysterious strength had built over the years, further boosted by her own efforts. It seemed to have reached its peak in the last few years, when she had... she tried not to think about it.
'Marci?' Davion was peering at her, his dark eyes wide with concern. She realised that her emotions must have shown and hastily rearranged her features. 'Are you all right?'
She nodded again. She did not want to explain it to him, assuming that he would understand. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, she simply did not want to revisit that night.
Davion tried switching subjects. 'I've never seen anybody fight like you. Where did you learn?'
Marci's face creased sadly as she mimed a house with her hands.
'Home?' Davion guessed correctly. 'Where is that?'
She shook her head and indicated Mirana with her eyes. She couldn't say.
'Sorry. I'm being nosy.' Davion apologised quietly. 'Why not have a little revenge? Ask me something.'
Marci considered. There was actually quite a lot she would have liked to know about Davion. How to ask though?
She pointed at his arm, then flexed her own. When he failed to understand, she mimed swinging a sword.
'Oh! I was taught at Dragon Keep. I started as a squire. They made me a Knight when I killed my first dragon.'
Marci carefully and slowly used her hands to ask him what it was like at Dragon Keep. It took a couple of attempts. Davion gamely told her about life at the Keep. It sounded hard and demanding, but he did not resent it. His early days as a squire had been spent keeping the weapons and armour in good condition. After a few years, he had been sent out to accompany Dragon Knights in the field, learning their craft as they fought dragons.
She started to understand why he had the habit of whiling away his nights with women in one-night stands. Every time he was sent out to fight a dragon, it might be the last time. Marci had killed, but her opponents had mostly been humanoids. A dragon was not something she could simply punch and kick into submission.
She lifted her hood to hide the little flush she felt growing in her face. Marci had been surprised at herself on that night when she had first started to teach Davion how she communicated.
Why had she immediately assumed that he had been suggesting something intimate? She also had to admit to herself that if he had asked her for that, she may well have accepted. She had been sorely tempted. They could have easily crept away and found a secluded spot, out of sight and sound of Mirana.
It might have been fun. Marci had never... dallied with a man, and Davion was kind to her, grateful to her, he took the time to try to know and understand her, unlike so many others, and he was gorgeous. How often did somebody like him appear in her life?
But it had not been the right time or place, and Marci would not leave Mirana alone and vulnerable, even with Sagan to protect her. She also had to worry about Davion's affliction. For all she knew the excitement might provoke a transformation. Selfish indulgence was not worth getting ripped apart for.
Still, it was a shame.
Marci also felt mildly guilty as she let Davion talk to her. Davion was quite willing to tell her about his life, but she could offer him nothing in return. Mirana would not allow it.
She did not resent Mirana for this. She knew that she had her reasons for keeping quiet about the past. Even if she had allowed Marci to speak of it, recalling her old life in Rasolir would have been painful.
Davion looked up at the gouged and split peaks and groaned. 'Damn it! Look at that!' Marci saw thick grey clouds gliding over the peaks, ominous and unwelcome. 'That's one hell of a blizzard. The path should be sheltered, but it's not going to be easy.'
Marci grimaced. Wonderful. She was going to be even colder. If they managed to kindle a fire tonight, she would sleep as close to it as she could. Maybe she would be better off sleeping in it.
Mirana came to a halt, up to her shins in the snow. The wind blew her hood back as she glared up at the peaks. 'Marci? Which way?'
Marci fished the amulet out and peered at it. Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. It was indicating the peaks themselves. That was the last place she wanted to be.
Dutifully, Marci pointed at the slope of deep snow.
Mirana nodded. 'The sooner we get there, the better. Let's go. Sagan, come on.'
'Wait!' Davion trudged through the snow and pointed at a narrow path which wound alongside the cliff. 'We should go that way. It's safer.'
'Marci's amulet is pointing that way.'
'This path will lead us past Weiß Wache and over the mountains. We'll still get there, but we might actually stay alive.'
'What do you mean by "we"?' Mirana demanded. 'You just want to get to your castle!'
'Damn right I do!' Davion snapped. 'Yes, I want to figure out what's wrong with me, but I also want to stay alive, and so should you.'
'Fine. Go that way then.' Mirana suggested caustically. 'We're going this way. I'm sure you'll be better off worrying about yourself instead of us.'
Davion blanched. 'That's not fair, Mirana.'
He was right. Marci whistled sharply to get Mirana's attention and fixed her with an uncharacteristically fierce glare.
Mirana scowled for a moment, then visibly softened. 'You're right, Davion. I'm sorry. But we're still going that way.'
And she called Marci stubborn. Still, Marci would not mind getting off the mountain sooner rather than later. She was also just as keen to get moving again. Maybe that would warm her up at least a little.
'That way is suicide, especially with the blizzard moving in.' Davion argued. 'This way is safer. Trust me, I've used this path before. And I've heard about more than one Dragon Knight who tried your way and was never found again.'
'You're scared of the blizzard, Dragon Knight?'
'Have you ever been caught in one? On the side of a mountain?' Davion did not wait for a response. 'There will be crevices bridged by thin ice, covered with snow and impossible to see. There might be an avalanche. And of course there are dangerous beasts out here, including dragons.'
'Well, if you see one feel free to fight it, if you do decide to follow us.' Mirana said dismissively. 'I'd rather risk the blizzard than waste any more time.' She looked up at the mountainside, her brow furrowed. 'Marci, find a length of rope. We'll tie ourselves together and lash the end to Sagan's saddle. If we encounter a crevice, he should be able to pull us out.'
'If the ground isn't too steep or icy, or both.' Davion muttered. 'This is a crazy plan.'
Marci shrugged, resigned to follow her orders. Where Mirana went, she did too.
'All right,' Davion closed his eyes, knowing that he was not going to win. 'If Sagan is going to go first, we should take some of the weight off his back. If he falls into a fissure, we're dead.'
Marci nodded her approval.
'That makes sense,' Mirana conceded. 'Sagan! Come! Let's split the load between us.'
Sagan would still be carrying most of their supplies. Mirana took as much as she could carry, Davion too, but apart from Sagan it was Marci who was carrying the most—a benefit of her great hidden strength.
'All right. I'll be at the end. Davion, you'll follow Sagan, Marci will go between us.' She looked round when Marci tapped her shoulder. 'What is it?'
Marci indicated each of them and made motions with her fingers. She wanted to switch the order.
'Why?'
Marci took the pick she had insisted on buying from Sagan's harness and made a series of gestures which seemed to indicate hitting something, then pulling on a rope.
'Oh, I see. That's a good idea.'
'What was that?' Davion asked.
'Marci wants to be at the back. You've seen how strong she is.'
Davion seemed to understand. Marci's logic was spot on. Sagan weighed the most out of all them. If he fell into a crevasse, they would have to haul him out.
Marci was the lightest, though that was a contentious claim given how much stuff she was now carrying, but she had her mysterious strength. She stood the best chance of saving them if Sagan or somebody in the middle fell, which was why she had taken the pick. Sagan had his claws, she had a claw of her own now.
She was also gambling on the simple fact that the ice would be weakened each time somebody walked on it. Sagan would weaken it the most, Marci would weaken it the least. Placing herself at the back meant it would be less likely that they would end up being dragged backwards into a crevasse.
Davion went in front of her. She had deliberately defied her previous logic in that regard. As much as she liked Davion, she had sworn to protect Mirana against any threat. If Marci or Davion fell, Sagan would hopefully be able to keep Mirana from falling.
It had always been thus for Marci: others before herself. Always.
'If we're going to do this, let's do it carefully.' Davion cinched the rope about his waist, carefully adjusting his scabbard. 'And pray that we don't run into a dragon.'
The slow but steady progress they had been making was now painfully slow. The blizzard had arrived sooner than Davion had predicted. Now they were being pelted with thick snow and slowed by the howling winds. The knee-deep snow did not help, and they could barely see more than a few feet into the distance.
The wind thundering in their numb ears would also make it harder to hear ice cracking under their feet. Marci had the pick in her hand, just in case. Sagan plodded on, clearly as unhappy as she was.
Marci had long since lost the feeling in her feet and her boots were full of snow. She didn't want to lose any toes to frostbite, but if they made it off the mountain alive a toe or two would be a small loss.
'Are we still going the right way?' Davion yelled.
Marci reached for the amulet with thickly covered fingers. It took her a couple of attempts before she succeeded. To her dismay, the amulet revealed that they were going the wrong way. She whistled sharply, but Mirana could not hear her. Davion had to shout to get her attention and Marci had to indicate the direction with her arm.
Directed by Mirana, Sagan turned and they proceeded higher up the slope. Marci was beginning to see Davion's point. His way might have been longer, but they would have had more shelter.
The torturous trudging continued. It felt like hours since they had started. By now, Marci could no longer feel her fingers and her face was going numb too.
'There!' She only just heard Mirana's shout. She was pointing at what appeared to be the entrance to a cave within a curved outcropping. 'We can shelter there!'
So much for hurrying over the mountain. But if it meant warmth, Marci would not complain.
Davion insisted on untying himself and checking the cave first. He went in, his sword arm trembling from the cold. After a few moments, he emerged, declaring it safe. He had feared that it was part of the mysterious network of caverns several Dragon Knights had vanished in, but this cave was not connected to anything.
Davion lit a fire and they huddled around it for warmth. The wind threw in desultory eddies of snow now and then.
'Please tell me that we have plenty of wood.' Davion said.
'Yes, we should have.' Mirana answered. 'Assuming that it takes us a week and no longer.'
'That's going to be difficult.' Davion grimaced. 'That blizzard isn't letting up any time soon.'
Marci sighed and tapped his shoulder. She held up her crossed-fingers—as well as she could cross them with gloves on—and raised her eyebrows.
Davion shrugged, half-smiling with little conviction. 'I am trying to be optimistic, believe me.'
They remained huddled up in the cave for about an hour. Marci could feel her toes again, they were aching dully as the feeling returned.
The blizzard still had not eased. They did not have enough supplies or time to stay cooped up in the cave. They had to move.
More and more, Marci was wishing that Mirana had listened to Davion. Marci realised that she should have supported him. She knew that she had annoyed Mirana several times over the last few weeks by either agreeing with Davion or just spending time around him. Maybe her guilty conscience had decided for her.
It had made the wrong choice. She had made the wrong choice. At this rate, they would be lucky to cross in weeks. They would be even luckier if they actually survived whole.
Despite his assessments, Davion did not think that hope was lost. They were still heading in the rough direction of Weiß Wache. If their supplies were depleted or the weather worsened, there was still a chance they could take shelter inside the keep. He was confident that his brothers would not turn them away, provided he did not change into his monstrous new form within sight of the gates.
Sagan was little more than a vague white lump now, the packs and saddlebags lashed to his saddle now covered in snow and ice. Marci wagered that he was still warmer than the rest of them. How she envied his fur now.
Despite her discomfort, her extremities were not numb yet and her shivers were weak and easily ignored. Davion was in front of her, and she could barely see past his broad frame. He seemed to be acting as a living windbreak, stopping most of the sweeping flurries from reaching her.
She wondered whether he was doing it intentionally. If he was, then she was grateful.
It was a shame that they might be parting soon. She actually hoped that they wouldn't. After all, he had said that he would leave their company in Haupstadt, and look how that had turned out.
Apart from Mirana, Marci felt that he might be one of the few people who would one day understand her, truly understand her.
Terrorblade was catching up.
It had been a simple thing, really. Why buy a horse when you could murder the stable boy and take one? It was much more fun than haggling, faster too.
The corpse he had created would not have suited his purposes. He left it behind, having first used his newly acquired horse to carry it deep into the woods and dump it there. The scavengers would take care of the rest.
He was not worried about being caught by a militia. He simply did not want to waste time forcing his aspect back out of Foulfell to claim another body.
The horse had been difficult to manage at first. Terrorblade had been forced to snap its mind to make it carry his vessel. He could mask his presence from people. Animals were trickier. Their simple minds were more attuned to survival, and therefore more attuned to fear.
Apparently horses had an uncanny sixth sense of some sort, not that he really cared. Like Frühling's body, the animal was just a tool. He did not care about the well-being of his tools, they merely had to serve his purpose. Tools were meant to be disposable.
His horse was now little more than a brainless animate object. It would not run from danger, or try to save its own life. It would probably starve to death soon, not even having the instinct to feed itself now. He didn't care. It just had to carry him.
He could still detect Slyrak's soul faintly. Uldorak's soul was still distantly connected to the song the dragons adhered to, what they called the "Thunder". Davion was still ahead, but the odds were in Terrorblade's favour.
He knew that his quarry had friends now, and they had a beast which they could ride—a lunar tigris according to the descriptions he had heard.
Oddly, they were not riding the creature unless they had to. It seemed to be serving as a sort of packhorse or mule. Terrorblade now possessed the advantage of speed.
One of Davion's new companions had also been wounded outside of Haupstadt. They would have lost time tending to her wounds. Another stroke of luck.
The next piece of good fortune was that they were now crossing the Broken Peaks. Such a journey would be long and dangerous.
Terrorblade only needed Davion intact, not necessarily alive. He certainly did not need the two women and the lunar tigris. They could expire on that mountain for all he cared.
He also knew two things:
A new player had joined the game, and his defeat would further empower Terrorblade.
And there was something in the mountains he could make use of, something the old lore spoke of in little more than rumours. He had thought about seeking it out later, once he had the soul of Slyrak.
But as humans said, why not strike whilst the iron was hot?
Vylgranox was closing in. A distance of miles, even leagues, was nothing to him or his kin.
Now he swooped lower, the sun touching his iron-grey scales. No light reflected off his dull, angular form.
Some dragons took pride in their appearance, usually the ones with the most beautiful of scales. Vylgranox was not one of those dragons. He was proud of his power, it served him better.
The sour note was closer now, moving slowly. If he was right about what he sensed, then he would be justified in removing that wrong note.
It was an abomination. It was an abomination which had to be destroyed utterly.
'We're bunching up!' Mirana yelled over the whine of the gusting blizzard. 'Spread out!'
As much as Marci may have liked being behind Davion for shelter—admiring how he managed to retain his rugged, broad-framed attractiveness even in this weather—she knew that Mirana was right.
If they bunched up too tightly, there was no point in being lashed together. Close together like this, if one of them fell into a crevasse, they would all follow.
Marci gritted her teeth and obediently slowed to let Davion get ahead of her. She left a little slackness in the rope to allow him to move at his own pace. As patient as he was with her, even he would become irritated if he had to drag her around. The cold was fraying their tempers, especially Mirana's.
Sagan was all but swimming through the snow now. It reached Davion's hips. For Marci, this meant that the snow was starting to pass her waist and she was struggling to keep up.
Davion had warned them to stay quiet earlier. With this much snowfall, he was concerned about avalanches.
If they got caught in an avalanche, their chances of survival were so minute they would pass through a sieve. Their chances were about as fine as grains of sugar.
This thought caused Marci to briefly daydream about cake. How long had it been since she had last had one? Saliva filled her mouth at the thought of jam and cream sweet and smooth on her tongue. She and Mirana had often infuriated the kitchen staff by sneaking into the food stores for nightly snacks. She could remember Mirana giggling as they stole away, their arms loaded with cakes and other sweet delicacies, her own sides twitching with laughter too.
Of course, they had always denied their little raids when questioned. Mirana could have gotten away with kidnap and murder, or at least the kidnap and murder of cakes. She had once kept Marci out of trouble, even though there had been a generous and obvious dollop of cream on her handmaiden's cheek, when Viceroy Kashurra had been asked to question them.
He'd always had a soft spot for Marci, and she had never figured out why. Maybe it was her circumstances. Perhaps he had simply been sympathetic. He'd been the one who had suggested making her Mirana's handmaiden after... after she had lost her voice.
Even as a child, Marci had possessed quite the appetite. She had been a skinny thing in the slums, little more than pale skin stretched over bones. Yet she had still been stronger than the other children, both feared and respected—respected by the vulnerable children she stood up for, feared by those who would make victims of others.
Everything had a price.
Marci sighed, the soft sound lost in the billowing snow and sweeping winds. She forced herself to focus. Letting her mind wander out here might get them all killed.
Sagan stopped and turned his head, snow clinging to his fur and whiskers. He grumbled, clearly unhappy about something.
'We have to keep moving, Sagan,' Mirana told him. 'Go, Sagan. Go on now.' He refused to budge and Mirana grimaced, the cold biting into her tolerance as well as her skin. 'Move, Sagan! Go!'
Sagan grunted and obediently continued, his pace slower and more reluctant.
Marci was keen to escape the blizzard. Too keen.
It took her a moment to realise that Sagan was not simply dawdling. He did not like this any more than the rest of them. He had stopped for a reason.
He had been trying to warn them.
Marci felt something under her feet crack and shift.
Half a second before it broke, she realised that they had stumbled across a crevice bridged by ice.
Marci's stomach lurched as the ground gave way beneath her feet. The next moment was a confusing, terrifying rush of tumbling and falling, her arms circling uselessly.
She would have screamed if she could. But she couldn't even do that.
She gasped when the rope brought her to an abrupt halt, a flash of pain passing through her back. It was a good thing she was so thickly bundled up, otherwise the rope would have injured her back.
Rough rock walls framed a wide trench. Snow billowed in through the gap they had created. Marci was slowly twisting at the end of the rope. She had lost the pick when she had fallen, not that it would have done her any good here.
She was too far away from the walls. She was dead weight.
Marci strained to raise her torso, the rope digging into her back and abdomen.
Davion was reaching for the rocks above her. Mirana was clinging to Sagan's harness, and Sagan was scrabbling at the ice.
If she had been closer to the wall, Marci could have pulled herself up. But right now, her strength was useless and the heavy pack on her back was dragging them all down.
There was water rushing below—an underground river flowing from the mountain, or maybe melted snow and ice, maybe something else, it did not matter even though it made little sense to Marci. Surely in this place it should have frozen, but it had not. The steep incline it was following had made it turbulent and fierce.
If they fell... bound together like this all four of them would die. If the water was too shallow, they would be smashed to pieces. Even if it was deep enough for them to survive a fall, they would get tangled up in the rope, Sagan would drag them under, and they would all drown.
Sagan was slowly slipping backwards. Davion was cursing above Marci, trying to shift his weight so that he could reach the wall, but with Marci dangling unsupported they were going to inevitably fall.
Marci knew what she had to do. She shrugged off her pack and cloak, letting them fall into the water below.
It had always been thus, ever since she had pledged herself to Mirana's service: others before herself.
Especially Mirana.
Others before herself. Always.
Always.
Davion looked down, still struggling to reach the rock. He read the sad resignation on Marci's face, saw the regret in her soft brown eyes.
He saw the dagger in her hand sawing into the rope.
'Marci! No!'
Mirana's head whipped round and she screamed Marci's name just as the last strands broke.
Marci let the abyss take her, saw her friends receding as she fell. The rush of cold air filled her ears, and now she was falling, falling, falling...
Falling...
