Chronicles of Espiria Season 3

Episode 6 – The End of the March

Written by the Dude

Mehira dropped Rosaline unceremoniously at the feet of Mantus Kray, a Hypogean ogre who had been placed in charge of security at the abandoned town that now served as a Hypogean encampment.

"Here you go, she's your problem now." Mehira announced.

"It doesn't look that impressive." Mantus said as he looked Rosaline over.

"Am I done here?" Mehira said, obviously bored with the conversation. "I can think of at least five things I'd rather be doing right now, two of which involve chocolate. I love chocolate."

"Were you followed?" Mantus asked without looking up.

"There are some humans trying to track me, but they'll never find this place, at least not in time to stop you."

"I would take no chances." Mantus said as he hoisted Rosaline over his shoulder like a sack of grain. "Deal with your pursuers, and I will see about procuring this 'chocolate' you speak of."

"You really know how to sweet talk a lady." Mehira said as she turned to leave.

Night had fallen before Mehira found Oscar and his companions. She had underestimated their speed in the rocky terrain she had flown over, and now they appeared capable of reaching the encampment by nightfall the next day; as Mantus suspected, they would need to be dealt with. An easy task for one of Mehira's ability; four of the five were asleep, Oscar and Mirael sitting back to back, Ira nestled in a tree cradling her bow like a teddy bear, Raine laying next to Fawkes with his hand in hers. Fawkes kept watch for the group, his crossbow loaded and resting in his lap as he leaned against Ira's tree.

Mehira crept through the shadows and the brush as if she were a shadow herself, her eyes never leaving Fawkes. When she was close enough, she peered over his shoulder and blew a kiss on the side of his face, surrounding his head in a pink cloud. Immediately, Fawkes' hand began to glow bright. His eyes darted in all directions, searching for he knew not what. While the spell was still fresh, she leaned in and whispered in Fawkes' ear.

"Kill them, my love."

To her surprise, Fawkes instead reached up and grabbed the horn on the side of Mehira's head. The surprised squeak she emitted awakened the others, who armed themselves before they knew what was going on.

"Mehira, I presume?" Fawkes said nonchalant. "I've been lookin' forward to this."

Mehira struggled to free herself, but Fawkes' grip with his cursed hand was like a vice. Her normally calm demeanor had long since crumbled as she fought desperately to escape Fawkes' grasp.

"Where'd ya stash the girl?" Fawkes asked.

"You think I'd be here if I had a girl?" Mehira asked with a measure of sass as she continued to struggle.

Raine pulled the hammer back on her pistol. "You heard the man. Answer him!"

"I already dropped her off! You'll never get her back!"

"That's a cryin' shame." Fawkes said as he aimed his crossbow at Mehira's skull. "Would've been nice to be able to trade your carcass for her."

Before he could fire, Mehira tore her horn from her head in a desperate bid to escape Fawkes' grasp. By the time any of them could react, Mehira had vanished into the darkness, leaving only a trail of caustic blood and the horn left in Fawkes' glowing hand.

"She's gone." Ira said as she released the tension on her bow.

"Fawkes, are you okay?" Raine asked as she noted the blood on his hand.

"I'm fine." Fawkes answered as he tried to flick the blood off the horn. "I think she was tryin' to curse me, but I stopped her 'fore she could."

"Then why are we not pursuing her?" Oscar asked.

"Ira, did it sound like she was lying to you?" Fawkes asked as confirmation of his suspicions.

"Nope, it sounded like she was wetting her pants." Ira responded with satisfaction.

"Then your girl ain't with her anymore." Fawkes concluded. "We need to get back on the trail we were followin' before so we can figure out where she dropped your girl off. We can't be far off now."

Back at the Hypogean encampment, Rosaline sat alone in an old bedroom. The only furniture was a small but comfortable bed, and a side table with a bowl of water for washing and a lantern for providing light. The only door was locked, and the windows boarded up. The walls were mostly bare, save for a nail next to the door on which hung a white ceremonial dress. Why the Hypogeans felt it so important that she wear this dress was beyond her, but if they wanted it, she was determined to put off changing into it as long as she could, even if it meant staying in her mud encrusted uniform.

She was staring at the water when the door opened, and a Hypogean woman strode into the room. She was clad in purple armor, crowned by a pair of horns, and armed with a slender sword strapped to her hip. Following her was what appeared to be a pair of demonic skulls wreathed in black flames. Her smile was unnerving, but not cruel. Her eyes held something that Rosaline could not quite guess; was it sadness? Pity? Regret? Whatever it was, it was mixed with an intense rage that boiled just below the other emotion.

The woman sat next to Rosaline on the bed, hugging her with one hand and stroking her hair with the other, as if some part of her thought that Rosaline was her daughter.

"My name is Lucretia." the Hypogean said.

"Rosaline, miss."

"Tell me about your home, Rosaline." Lucretia said with genuine curiosity. "Do you have a family?"

"I do." Rosaline answered, a bit more at ease. "I have a brother named Matthew, and I used to have a mother and father, but they died a long time ago. Lady Oakenfell took me in, though, and she is a very nice lady."

"I see she treats her servants well." Lucretia noted Rosaline's uniform.

"Oh, she didn't make me a servant. She said I don't need to serve anymore, but she's been so kind to me, I wanted to give something back."

"So she is like a mother to you."

"Mmhmm. And Mr Oscar is sort of a big brother."

Lucretia was silent a moment. "You know, I used to have a family too. A husband, a son. I was very happy. It seems we have something in common, Rosaline."

"What's that?"

"I will never see those I love again, either."

Mehira, meanwhile, had found shelter in a cave not far from Oscar and his companions. She washed her face and her wound in a small pool as she let the adrenaline run its course. She knew that the rip in her flesh where her horn once was would heal, and the horn would regrow in time. Still, this human named Fawkes changed everything; she had found someone who could resist her charms, someone who could prove a challenge to her, someone who was capable of harming her. As she considered this man named Fawkes and the injury he had done to her, she could not help but laugh maniacally.