Kelda woke to utter blackness, head throbbing, with a mouth that felt like it was full of sand. She sat up slowly, feeling sick.
"Oh, gods..." she muttered. "Where am I?"
She remembered the hunters, the feast, the spiral into darkness.
"Bastards," she hissed, rubbing her forehead.
They'd drugged her, and left her for dead. She felt her heart stutter as her eyes strained to see. She fought down panic, struggling to control her breathing.
If she let herself panic, she'd never get out alive. She sat still, taking stock of what she had. Bjorn had left her with her parka, and hadn't bothered to go through the pockets. She pulled out flint and steel and struck them. In the brief spark, she saw a torch lying next to her. She groped her way forward, felt her hand touch sticky pitch. She held the torch between her legs and struck the flint again until the torch blazed alight.
Kelda held the torch aloft and rose on shaky legs, gaping. She was in a vast underground ruin. Massive columns rose up on all sides, vanishing into the darkness. A huge statue lay shattered on the ground, staring accusingly down at her with one cracked eye. She walked closer to it, holding the torch aloft.
"You must be a dwarf," she said softly.
The bearded statue gave no reply. Kelda looked around.
"Right," she whispered. "Better start moving."
She gathered up the pack and set off into the ruins.
She walked for hours, passing by crumbling buildings, toppled monuments, and rusting, ancient machines of uncertain purpose. At first she marveled over everything she saw, wonder overcoming fear of her predicament. As the hours passed and the torch burned lower, however, she grew inured to the strangeness, and could only think of how much she wanted to be home.
Kelda wedged the torch into a rock and sat back on her heels, exhausted. She was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. Her stomach growled, and she pushed herself back to her feet, grimaced.
The torch guttered, went out. She swore, digging in her pocket for her flint. It bounced out of her shaky fingers, ringing its way across the cave floor.
"Damn it!"
Kelda crouched on her hands and knees, feeling for it. She felt the edge of her hand brush against it, made a desperate grab in the dark, heard it bouncing down. She put her hand forward into empty air, pulled back abruptly.
"Shit," she whispered.
She crawled through the darkness, feeling her way carefully along the edge of the cliff. Soon her fingertips were raw and bleeding. She pressed forward, ignoring the multitude of tiny cuts in her palms, crept across a narrow bridge over the chasm, black emptiness on every side.
She was so thirsty. She swallowed thickly, mouth dry as old bone. She crawled for hours that bled into days through the caverns, hallucinatory color blooming as her eyes struggled to see.
She was bleeding, had managed to scrape herself raw going through a narrow crevice. Her head was pounding. She saw visions in the dark, heard her heart hammering in her ears.
She saw her father, limned in brilliant colors, watched him chasing after a herd of caribou, saw him change and merge into their endless flow. She blinked, and saw a hawk circling through the blackness, gold eyes drawing her in, saw herself as a child, curled up tightly, wolves dancing around her. She blinked again, saw her witch-boy, wreathed in fire. He held out a hand, drew out the brilliant line of her soul. She reached towards him, knowing she dreamed even as her hand hit stone.
Warmth. Pack. Home.
She curled up around herself, felt hot tears leak down her cheeks. She was so tired. She closed her eyes, defeated.
Home.
She could smell straw and damp fur, a not-unpleasant animal smell. The bodies of the pack pressed in tightly on each other, whining. Amber eyes looked up at her, flashing green.
She woke with a start.
Warmth. Pack. Home.
She felt the minds of the wolves, their cunning animal intelligence, their savage loyalty. She crawled forward, drawn by their questing thoughts.
Warmth. Pack. Home.
She followed the scent of their psyches, tracking them, drawn by strange wild magic. She could feel them shift in their sleep, feel their heartbeat under her skin.
After an eternity, she saw light ahead. At first, she wasn't sure what she wasn't sure what she was seeing. She rose to her feet, knees popping, stumbled forward into the afternoon sun, shielding her aching eyes.
She gulped down mouthfuls of snow gratefully, cooled her raw and burning hands. At last she sat back, taking stock. She was in the hills out beyond the ice, close to the fortress. Her head was spinning, she was battered and bruised, and she was incredibly hungry, but she was alive.
She felt the mind of the pack brush her and shivered. She turned herself towards the wolves, letting their dreams guide her home.
-x-
Kelda stumbled through the portal, fell to her hands and knees as it teleported her home. Gnarl stared at her in astonishment.
"Mistress Kelda!" he cried, hobbling to her side. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"Water," she gasped. "Please. Food."
He gestured, and minions scampered away, returned with a jug of water and some bread. She gulped it down gratefully, blood dripping on the stones.
"Mistress Kelda, you're hurt!" Gnarl wrung his hands. "See, this is exactly why I said you shouldn't be out and about! It's too dangerous! Why, if the Master lost you-"
"Where is he?" Kelda asked, standing wearily. "I need to talk to him."
"He's in the private quarters, Mistress, but-"
"Good. It's very important."
She limped up the stairs.
"But, Mistress, he's busy-" Gnarl watched her go, sighed. "Well, I suppose she was going to have to find out sooner or later."
Kelda pulled herself up the stairs, wincing at the pain in her knees. She could use a bath, she thought, and then she felt like she could sleep for weeks. But first, she needed to tell the witch boy about the dwarven ruins-
She stopped short by the fountain, heard the unmistakable sounds of a woman moaning. She felt her cheeks grow hot.
"He wouldn't," she muttered.
She followed the sound, knowing what she would find, refusing to believe it. She stopped short in Juno's doorway, staring. A naked Juno was straddling an equally naked witch boy, head thrown back as she rode him.
"You bastard," Kelda snarled, not sure which one of them she meant.
They stopped short, looking at her. Juno gave her a smile that dripped acid.
"Hello, peasant," she purred. "Did you have a nice little hunting trip?"
"I'll fucking kill you," Kelda said, low and deadly.
"Try it, slave girl." She shifted her hips, utterly shameless. "He's never had anyone quite like me, and now that he's had a taste-."
"Enough."
Juno started. The Overlord picked her up bodily and set her aside, sitting up. Kelda glared at him, furious.
"How could you?" she snapped. "After what we did, how-"
She was angry, and she was crying now. He stared at her, helpless.
"I didn't mean to make you-"
"What's she got that I haven't got?" Kelda cried.
"A sense of style, for one," Juno purred.
"Is she better in bed than me, or what?"
Juno smiled. He looked from one to the other. He didn't know much about women, but he knew enough to know that that question was a trap.
"Kelda," he said placatingly. "Please, why are you so upset? I don't understand-" He stopped, rose, touched her arm. "You're bleeding. What happened?"
She yanked her arm away, sniffling.
"Don't touch me."
"What happened?" he asked again. "Are you alright?"
Her eyes flashed.
"No, of course I'm not bloody alright, you stupid son of a bitch," she snarled.
"Why are you so angry?"
"Are you stupid?" She glared at him, swept a contemptuous gaze over him, over Juno. "Fine. Do what you want. If fucking that painted-up trollop makes you happy, fine. You can go straight to the hells together."
"Kelda-"
She swiped a hand across her eyes, gave him a look that could strip paint, furious.
"I'm going out hunting," she spat. "And I don't plan to come back. Have the minions bring my things back to Nordberg."
"Kelda, wait-"
She turned on her heel, staggered, stormed out of the bedroom. He sighed, pulling on his trousers. Juno grabbed his arm, slid her hands down his chest.
"Do you really have to go so soon?" she purred. "We were just getting started."
"We can pick up where we left off."
She pouted, wrapped her arms around him as he tried to pull on his tunic.
"Don't go," she whispered. "Please."
"I have to, it's Kelda, and she's hurt, and she's angry, and-"
"Oh, who needs that stupid little peasant, anyways?"
He stared down at her, suddenly chilly.
"I do," he snapped.
He pulled his arm away, strode out of the room. Juno swore, watching him go. She'd been so certain she'd had him entirely in the palm of her hand. She'd been so close, she thought, to having him under her thumb, and then that bloody peasant girl had blundered in and ruined things.
Well, then, she would simply have to try harder. Juno smiled, laying back against the silk sheets. In general, she didn't like to have to exert herself, but this was one effort she would be more than happy to make.
-x-
Gnarl hurried after her as she stormed to the portal, trembling with fury, bow slung over her back.
"Mistress Kelda!" she heard him call through the rush of blood in her ears. "Mistress, please, wait-"
She glared at him, furious, holding the knife on her belt in a way that made him reconsider. He shrank back despite himself.
"Mistress Kelda, if you'd only stop for a moment and think about this-"
He stopped short, astonished. The wolves were streaming into the throne room. He stared as they stepped tentatively onto the portal, two by two, whining, vanishing. Not even his Master had been able to convince the wolves to do that. An ancient wolf nudged Kelda's knee, whimpering. She stroked its ears, eyes distant, almost as if she was listening to something.
"Kelda, wait!" he heard the Overlord call.
She looked over her shoulder, green eyes chilly, stepped onto the portal and vanished. The Dark Lord stopped short.
"Damn it, Kelda."
The old wolf slunk to his side, whining. He scratched at its head absently.
"Where's she gone, Gnarl?"
"I'm not exactly sure, sire. Let me see..." He reached up, stroked the crystal, and it let out a high, sharp note. "Ah. She came out just outside Nordberg, sire."
"I'll be back."
"Sire, it may be wise to let her cool down a little-"
The Overlord ignored him, striding through the portal. Gnarl shook his head. It had been so long, he'd almost forgotten how much trouble Mistresses could be. He settled back with a sigh to watch the sparks fly.
-x-
The hunters hadn't bothered to move their camp.
Kelda strode into their midst, flanked by wolves.
"Where's Sven?" she snarled.
They scattered, startled, grabbing for spears and bows. The wolves crouched, growling.
"Kelda?" Sven gaped at her, sitting by the fire. "You're alive?"
"You should have killed me when you had me helpless," Kelda snapped, drew her bow. "You bastards. I thought we were friends."
Sven held up his hands.
"Kelda...please. We didn't want to do it, but we had to, else that awful Demon Lord might have found us out."
"So you tried to kill me over some old ruins? Glad to know I'm worth that much to you."
"No, Kelda, not the ruins. It's what's in the ruins. Gold."
"So you left me for dead over some shiny metal? I thought you were a hunter, Sven, not some damned Imperial."
"It's not the gold, it's what it can buy!" He came closer, pleading. "We've hardly had a chance to bring any of it up, but there's enough down there to buy armor, weapons, everything the North needs. With that kind of money, we could afford to fight the Demon Lord, the Empire, anyone!"
"Unless they come in and crush you first."
"Which is why we need to keep it a secret."
"Don't come any closer."
Sven spread his arms.
"Kelda, you can't fight us all."
"With my wolves, I can," she hissed.
He looked around. She saw the flickers of fear on the faces of the hunters, saw it change slowly to hate.
"Witch," she heard one of them hiss.
The wolves growled, forming up around her. She grinned, let her arrow fly, not caring if they killed her, wanting nothing more than to fight, to hit something until she couldn't think anymore. Sven gasped and toppled back, her arrow jutting from his chest. She heard the hunters roar, heard the twang of a bowstring, felt white hot pain lance into her shoulder, into her ribs, saw her blood burst red across the snow.
"KNEEL," a deep voice snarled.
The hunters froze as one, fell rigidly to their knees in the snow. Kelda struggled to stay upright, squinting.
"Witch Boy?" she asked, confused.
She was angry at him, she thought, couldn't remember why. She felt very cold.
He strode towards her, felt his heart lurch as he saw bright blood on the ice, saw her fall to her hands and knees. Something snapped inside him. He felt the living minds of the hunters pulsing, tethered to his will. He reached out and pulled, felt their souls flow into him, the sudden shriek of a dozen minds snuffed out in a blink. Their bodies fell, twisted, drained. He walked past them without a second thought, went to the side of his Mistress, cradling her.
"Kelda?"
She stirred, gave him a bleary smile.
"Witch Boy?" she asked again. "I...I'm tired."
"It's alright," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "Come on, I'm taking you home."
"Home," she whispered, her eyes drifting closed.
He carried her to the portal as quickly as he could without hurting her, keeping a close eye on the rise and fall of her chest. He held her close as it swept them below.
"Sire!" Gnarl stopped short, staring at Kelda. "Oh, that's not good. Not good at all."
"Get Mort up here," the Overlord snapped.
Gnarl looked stricken.
"I- yes, yes, of course, sire."
He carried her upstairs, laid her carefully on the bed. She gasped, whimpering, hand going to the arrow in her shoulder.
"I need water!" He shouted. "Bandages!"
The minions scrambled, frantic, tripping over each other in their haste to bring him what he'd asked for. He felt carefully around the shaft of the arrows, wincing. They were in deep.
"My Lord," a voice croaked wetly.
He turned, trying to keep his hands from shaking. Mort stood, hooded, leaning on his scythe, staring at Kelda.
"Can you see?" the Overlord asked him. "Will she be alright?"
Mort frowned, moving closer, cocked his head. He ran a hand over Kelda's forehead, along the bridge of her nose, touched her lips. His hands hovered for a moment, and he looked briefly startled.
"Will she be alright, Mort?"
"Difficult to tell, my Lord," the necromancer croaked. "The smell of death is on her, but she is not yet through its door."
"Well, then, help me! Hold her spirit here while I work."
Mort nodded once, sharply, spread webbed fingers, dark fire flickering in his massive eyes.
"I will do my best, my Lord."
"This is going to hurt," the witch boy whispered to Kelda. "I'm sorry."
He cut the arrows from her flesh as quickly as he could, trying to ignore her muffled gasps. The arrow in her ribs had missed her lung, and the wounds smelled clean. He cleaned the wounds and stitched her up, working swiftly. Gnarl hovered at his elbow, staring down at her, looking uncharacteristically worried.
"You see, sire, this is why you should keep your Mistresses locked away in a tower somewhere!"
"Not helping, Gnarl."
"It worked for Overlords before you, sire! Perhaps after this you'll consider listening to me, for once."
"Really not helping."
He finished stitching the wounds, wiped a smear of red blood from his cheek, looking down at his fingers. Mort lowered his hands.
"Her spirits are safe, my Lord. They linger in her body." He bowed. "I will take my leave of you, sire." He glanced at the old minion overseer. "Come and see me when you've finished, Gnarl."
The Overlord waved him away, distracted. Gnarl hobbled to the head of the bed and sighed.
"Mistresses! Sometimes I think they're more trouble than they're worth."
The witch boy stroked Kelda's red hair, smoothing it away from her brow. Gnarl watched him, more than a little worried. He'd known Overlords who'd used women (and sometimes, men) in a way even he'd considered cruel, casting them aside without a second's thought. The boy, though...the boy was like his father. He cared for his Mistresses, in a way that made him far too vulnerable.
"My Lord," he said gently. "You can't do anything else for her. She just needs rest."
"I'll stay here," the boy said, stubborn. "You can go."
Gnarl sighed. The lad was in love, whether or not he knew it yet. He had lived long enough to know it was futile to argue.
"Very well, Sire. Call me if you need me."
-x-
Kelda woke with a start. She sat up, disoriented, and immediately regretted it. She groaned, clutching at her shoulder. She remembered being shot, the sudden blinding pain, and then a long tumble into black weightlessness.
Someone had patched her up quite decently. She snuck a glance under her bandages and winced. Everything hurt, and every motion felt like being shot all over again.
The witch boy stirred, sat up from a pile of furs on the floor.
"Kelda," he breathed. He rose, sat on the edge of the bed, seemed not to know what to do with his hands. "Are you alright?"
"I've been shot up with arrows, and feel like I've been through hell and back. No, of course I'm not alright."
She saw the look on his face, and relented.
"I'm feeling better than I was, though."
"What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," she admitted. "I was just so angry at you, and I just..."
"Were you...were you angry because Juno and I..."
"Because you fucked her? Yes, of course I'm angry!"
"But why?" He sounded genuinely confused. "It's just sex, Kelda."
She stared at him, incredulous. He was serious, she realized. He actually hadn't understood why she was mad at him. The gulf between them suddenly seemed very wide indeed.
"Juno is a manipulative viper," she said, very slowly, trying to get through to him. "She's an absolute twat who only cares about herself, and she's only interested in what you can give her."
"I know that," he said patiently.
She gaped at him, at a loss.
"Then why do you keep her around?" she asked at last.
"Because she's pretty, and she says nice things, and, I don't know, I just like her being here!"
"She's using you!"
"I don't care!"
"What's wrong with you? Why the hell not?"
"Because it's just sex!" he snapped, exasperated. "It doesn't mean anything!"
Her face twisted, and she looked away. He realized his error with a wince, took her hand. Women were so complicated.
"I didn't mean...it's not 'just sex' with you," he said softly.
"Then what is it?" she asked. "What am I to you, anyways, witch boy?"
He didn't know how to answer. She glared up at him, green eyes bright.
"Am I not enough for you?" she demanded.
"No, it's...it's not that." He fumbled, trying to think of a way to explain. "You know how, sometimes you're hungry for seal, and sometimes instead you want caribou?"
"Did you just compare me to food?"
"Ah...no?" he said uncertainly. "You're angry again, aren't you?"
She rolled over on her side, ignoring him. His shoulders slumped, and he reached out and stroked her hair, gentle.
"Get some rest," he said. "I'll talk to you about it later. I need to work." He traced the nape of her neck. "And please...don't kill Juno while I'm gone."