LA FLEUR-DE-LYS
The sounds of rumbling engines, horses and unicorns thumping on the soil and shouting voices crowded the ear as the 'Canadian Protection Force West' prepared to leave the Isle of Faces. The lines of 'crawlers', buggies, pickups, police cruisers, and animals fanned out along the edge of the water, heavily loaded with supplies of all kinds, waiting to cross it. Everywhere was movement and chatter. Under the blazing sun, people in Canadian Army uniforms mingled with those in mixed medieval garb or very little at all.
The lake stretched out for many kilometres, the shore on the other side not possible to see, only the hills and mountains around it rising up off the horizon. It was as clear a day as could be, and for the first time since arriving, the summertime heat was dry.
Sitting on some rocks by the water with the rest of the civilians, Anne looked on, not sure what she should be doing like the rest of them. They had all been assigned crawlers or pickups to report to. Some volunteers would even be driving the vehicles, as there was not enough soldiers.
She had spent much of the time already examining what she could about the 'Free Folk', as there was little else to do. Her team of archaeologists and anthropologists had done the same. But with things on the move and the language barrier still staring her in the face, this activity had been suspended.
So for the moment, she was switching between watching Duquesne as he moved around and watching Doctor Shih attempt to throw small stones as far as she could into the lake. Not much work in a medieval world for a geneticist without the tools of her trade…
The newly promoted Captain was everywhere. Duquesne checked every single vehicle himself for its contents against a document on a clipboard he had. He greeted many of the locals. He talked quietly with 'Jon Stark', a teenaged local lord of some kind, as well as the princess the young man was married to. He often went to his squad leaders directly to issue commands, gesticulating as he explained this or that thing he wanted done.
Anne thought Duquense was a hard man to read. She could see little of the supposed monster Teixeira described, though said describing was too vague to know anything for sure to begin with. But what she did know and what made her uncomfortable about him was two-fold; he now held absolute power over the lives of every Canadian present, and he had a constant shadow in the form of a young woman.
It wasn't unusual for the military to be in charge in a war zone, but typically diplomacy would be handled by the civilian government. It seemed to Anne that the government had totally washed its hands of the whole situation, leaving someone they clearly trusted in charge to handle matters while not considering the opinion of those actually trapped with him. They had all went from empowered citizen with rights to conscripts in a war they understood little about.
Duquesne shadow's name was Ygritte. She was a pretty red-haired teenager, albeit with crooked teeth and a temperament that the others of her tribe found ferocious enough to appoint her as chief in a time of war. Everywhere he went, she was with him, often handling the 'Free Folk' in his stead.
That was about as much information as Anne had, and she felt there was something off about Duquesne's relationship with her. They were clearly involved somehow, and while the age gap wasn't so large as to be massively disconcerting, the difference in education and power was startling. Is it possible for any of us to have a relationship of equals with these poor souls? she wondered to herself. Her train of thought was interrupted by Shih, as the woman managed to skim a flat stone across the water seven times before it dropped away to the bottom.
"You're glaring," said a voice from behind. Anne craned her neck and saw Teixeira standing nearby. He had his full battle kit on and was looking up at where she was sitting, a small grin on his face. God he looks good today, her mind wandered, before reasserting its reason. "Come join me," she said, patting the rock beside her, "Got a few questions for you."
"Good," Teixeira replied, "Because I was told to come give you some orders." The Master-Corporal quickly scaled the stone and sat down heavily beside her, his rifle laid across his lap.
A smouldering annoyance rose in Anne's throat. I'm civilian liaison, why isn't this a real conversation? "What orders?" she asked, "If Duquesne wants to give me orders, he can come give them to me himself."
Teixeira's brow raised up. "As you can see, he's a little busy," the soldier said, thumbing over at the Captain, "The Green Men will create a path through the lake for us. We need to be ready to move when that happens."
Anne picked up a stone, her annoyance releasing from her. "He does look busy," she admitted, "And we are clearly not welcome here. I've been seeing more and more of these so called Green Men in the edges of the forest, all with spears and bows, and none of them so much as waved a greeting."
Teixeira shrugged noncommittally and muttered something in Portuguese. Easy to be flippant when you have a gun.
"Well, you won't dislike these orders," he said, "The plan is to go along the western coast of the lake, northwards to a castle called Harrenhal. The skinchanger people say that Jon Stark's brother will be there with a large army. We're going to try to talk them into a peace deal. Duquesne wants you involved in the negotiations as an advisor, and to observe the society of the 'kneelers'. Private Sayer will be assigned to translate their words for you."
Anne's mind raced. It was an absolutely amazing opportunity. But why is he giving it to me? "What does he want me for?" she asked aloud, "I'm not a diplomat and I doubt he likes me very much. He treats me like some fresh private out of bootcamp."
Teixeira looked around in a conspiratorial manner, and glared at the nearest people, shooing them off with his hand. They complied, which Anne didn't assign blame for, as when someone with a big gun tells you to go away, you do it unless there's a matter of principle at stake.
"One more recruit for the cult," the soldier said as soon as he was sure no one else could here.
Anne narrowed her eyes. Has he lost it? "What cult?"
Teixeira held up his hands, as if to say 'just listen for a moment'. "The cult of Duquesne," he said, "This is what he does. He gets on your good side by giving you opportunities to show what you can do, letting you do the things that motivate you…"
"So?" Anne asked, "That's what leaders do."
Teixeira shook his head. "Yes, but with Duquesne it's a trick," he said, "He wants you to believe he trusts you, but he actually sees you as a pawn. Expendable. Just some thing he can spend to get what he wants."
Anne cocked an eyebrow. This was an old complaint to her. Academia wasn't exactly renowned for its regard for its postgraduate students, after all. "Again, that's what leaders do."
Teixeira shook his head rapidly. "Ah screw it. It's too hard to explain without telling you what he did before. But you'll see it for yourself. Pray you don't see it too closely, or it might be the last thing you do see."
Anne picked up a stone of her own and threw it into the lake. It went in with a satisfying plump sound. "I doubt I'll see it,"she said, "Duquesne wants us 'civilians' out of the way, doing our own thing. So does the government. Every one of us has been given assignments to do with our areas of study. This order from him is the first I've heard of any of us being involved in the mission you soldiers have been given."
Teixeira frowned. "If he wants you to help, he's playing that game. That's all I'm saying."
Anne was about to become annoyed again, when a thought occurred to her. If there's a game being played, perhaps I can win it too. The military can't be allowed to hide their activities. "Then I best be careful," she said, "But if Duquesne is so eager to let me to do things…" She stood up and walked around Teixeira, before sliding down the road face with a hop. Making her way directly towards Duquesne, who was in conference with Sergeant MacDonald and Sergeant Zheng.
"Captain Duquesne!" Anne called as she approached, "A moment if you would."
The man looked up from his clipboard with no particular emotion, a pen sticking out of his mouth clutched between his teeth. "Doctor Cloutier," he said in greeting, "I guess Teixeira has passed on my orders?"
"He has," Anne confirmed, "And I'm happy to help… but if possible, could I be with the buggies going in front?"
Duquesne stared at her like she had just asked to go dancing in a minefield. It's not that crazy, Captain, I just want to make sure you aren't going to commit the crimes Teixeira implies you're already guilty of.
Zheng was more verbal on the matter. "I command the reconnaissance element, Doctor," she said, "We might get caught up in heavy combat. I doubt that's something you want to add to your resume."
Anne smiled at the new Sergeant. "I'm aware of that and have full confidence in your ability to defeat any threat we might encounter," she said, "But I'd like to do a little reconnaissance of my own as you do yours."
Sergeant Zheng's mouth moved with annoyance. She didn't want to gainsay the idea that she could kick the ass of anyone who tried to stop her. But then, she was easy to read where Duquesne was hard.
"What sort of reconnaissance," MacDonald asked, his head tilted slightly towards her, "This isn't a safari, Professor."
"Of the countryside," Anne replied, "The farms, the houses, the infrastructure, all of it is important evidence of how this society works and how prosperous it is."
To her surprise, Duquesne pulled the pen out of his mouth and grinned. "Why not?" he said, before turning to the Sergeant, "You had a spare seat anyway, Zheng. She wants to see the Riverlands first, let her." MacDonald and Zheng's heads both spun back to look at him, but he had already returned his attention to his clipboard.
Now we'll see what you're up to. Anne rubbed her hands together once, delighted her little scheme had worked. "I'm glad you can see reason, Captain."
"I do try, Doctor," Duquesne replied, not looking up.
Air whipping her hair behind her, Anne braced herself in her seat using the roll-bars of the buggy. It sprinted down the side of the waiting line of vehicles, churning up the sand as it moved. The location of the causeway had changed, something about it not being safe the one to the east again so soon. So the entire column of Canadians and friends was moving westwards along the north coast of what was apparently an island.
Sergeant Zheng had found her reconnaissance group at the back of the line where she was previously at the front, and had immediately ordered the buggies under her command to overtake the rest. She had taken to standing up beside Anne in the back seat and hanging onto the heavy machinegun mounted to the top of the vehicle, throwing rude gestures at the crawlers as she passed, chuckling to herself as she did so.
The buggies were considerably faster, even with the trailers full of supplies and a half dozen Free Folk warriors sitting in the very back or hanging onto each of their sides. Anne found herself thrown this way and that as the driver negotiated the curves in the shoreline at speed. Anne blinked as she spotted O'Neill atop his own crawler, grinning back at Zheng and throwing back a different rude gesture of his own.
"You're in a good mood," Anne remarked, loudly enough to be heard over the engine.
"Not yet I'm not," Zheng shouted down at her from her perch, "But just wait until we meet the first set of medieval pricks that don't want to back down." She grabbed the handle on the heavy machine gun and charged the weapon, laughing almost maniacally as she coaxed metallic noise from it.
This one has watched too many movies, Anne thought to herself, And has a big chip on her shoulder to be 'one of the boys'.
Eventually the buggies overtook the whole column, and drove the last few kilometres on their own. The forest of weirwoods was not surrounded by ordinary trees here, and it met the shoreline directly after a little while.
Anne watched the horrific, bleeding faces carved in the white bark look on with frozen screams. It made her skin crawl, those trees. It must not have been to Zheng's liking too. The sergeant swung the barrel of her weapon towards them, the jovial mood replaced entirely with soldierly focus.
Curious if it was just something one of the original lost soldiers might think to do, Anne craned her neck to look back at the other two buggies. She found their occupants doing much the same thing, aiming their guns and grenade launchers at the trees. It's not for the trees at all, she realised.
As she turned around, she saw a small knot riders in dark green ahead. Anne's mouth dropped as she realised they were riding elks, not horses, their massive antlers a dead giveaway. The men too had antlers on pointy looking helmets. I really am in a fantasy world.
Zheng muttered something into her headset's mouthpiece, and the driver slowed the vehicle down to a crawl. The other two buggies came up to either side, and only then did a quicker pace resume. The weapons were aimed forwards, towards the riders.
Anne briefly wondered if there was going to be a small massacre, but no one seemed very concerned. The buggies stopped within talking distance, the elk snorting and stomping at the arrival of the strange metal beasts. Now that the vehicle wasn't jumping around, Anne stood up, knowing what would happen next was something she wanted to see.
"Hello Arrel," Zheng called, a frown on her face.
"Zheng of Vancouver," said the man in reply, with a barely perceptible bow of the head.
This is the skinchanger, Anne recalled, Or is it just the skin?
Zheng leaned back, taking her hands off the machinegun and crossing her arms. "Duquesne wants me to go ahead, scout out the way. If you wouldn't mind letting us cross?"
Arrel scowled. "We are not quite prepared," he said, "You have arrived early. Give us a moment." He pulled the reins of his elk, and the whole group of riders rode off at a casual pace towards the nearest weirwood, a tall but thin thing with a mouth carving that half-split its trunk in two. Anne watched them as they dismounted and pulled a large leather bag off the rump of one of the animals.
"Prick," Zheng muttered, rummaging around in her combat webbing for something of her own, cursing under her breath.
"Is it wise to be insulting them?" Anne wondered aloud, "They're magical beings."
Zheng pulled out a cigar and lighter. "They're perfectly happy to insult us," she said, before sticking the tobacco in between her lips and teeth, "Besides, I am fucking magic too." She waggled her fingers in the air, miming a spell.
Anne rolled her eyes as Zheng ignited the Zippo lighter, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. There was writing in English and Chinese on the side of it that drew the eye.
"Fuck Communism?" Anne read aloud, incredulous.
Zheng laughed, clicking her lighter shut and half coughing her first breath of the cigar for her trouble. "Family heirloom," she explained.
Oh great. The smell of the tobacco burning was overwhelming, making Anne's eyes water. The Free Folk standing on the makeshift sideboards stared at Zheng like she was insane. They complained to her in the Common tongue, which sounded a lot like Dutch to Anne's ears, though she spoke absolutely none of either language. The sergeant spoke back, in a tone that was more explanation than rebuke.
I guess there's no such thing as smoking here, Anne guessed, before the stench of the thing made her wish there was no such thing as smoking on Earth too.
Zheng gave her an apologetic look, and stubbed the thing out, though she kept it. "Sorry. I don't usually smoke, except on special occasions. And only Cuban too."
What happened to Fuck Communism? Anne cleared her throat and waved the smoke out of her face. There was no breeze or wind to carry the smell away. "Is this a special occasion?"
The sergeant winced. "No, I've just heard the warg reports on the western shore."
Anne narrowed her eyes, wondering what the hell that meant. Asking about it was not an option, as the elk riders returned on foot. One carried a long ram's horn, like a giant shofar. It was at least as long as a person. What sort of ram did that come from?!
The one called Arrel stopped in front of the buggy, as the others hurried by. His face was pained. "We will now open the way," he said, "And I will join your progress to Harrenhal, though I will wait for Duquesne to cross myself."
Anne kept her mouth shut. The relationship with these locals was far more opaque to her than the one with the Free Folk. All she knew is that they hated Earthlings, because their own invasion had been repelled brutally by the proto-First Nations. She ached to ask to see what had happened, but this Arrel had refused to allow her to. It was not something lightly relived, he had said.
Zheng's mouth opened and her tongue moved over her teeth in thought. It looked particularly predatory for some reason. "Just like that?" she said, "Okay. We'll go ahead first. Who knows what's waiting out there?"
Don't they know what's out there? Anne asked herself, Spying through their horrible trees?
Arrel nodded, his face blank as he turned to the other Men in Green. The largest of them was hefting the horn up to his lips, pointing it out over the water. A second later, and a resonant sounding issued from the instrument. It didn't sound special to Anne's ear, but she waited for a moment for something to happen. Nothing did.
The man blew the horn again and again, for a total of seven blasts. Each time, Anne, the other Canadians and the Free Folk looked around with anticipation. It was only on the seventh was the attention rewarded.
The ground shook, an earthquake rumbling beneath the buggies wheels. The Free Folk hanging on the side dove to throw both their arms around the roll-bars to stop themselves being thrown off by the shuddering. The Men in Green did not have any trouble at all which was very strange. They just stood as if the ground was not moving at all. Their elk too.
Anne gawked as the lake bubbled and roiled, like a soft drink shaken up, flowing away along a line straight west from the edge of the water and as far as the eye could see. The earthquake subsided in minutes, but the bubbles kept emerging. Magic is amazing, she decided, We need to understand it.
Arrel pointed the way with his palm and arm outstretched. "There is your road, Lian Zheng," he declared, "You cannot miss it."
"You could probably see it from space!" Anne declared back in reply.
Zheng nudged Anne's shoulder, as if to say 'don't appear so amazed.' "Is it safe?" she asked, "With the bubbles?"
The Man in Green seemed offended. "Entirely," Arrel said, "We have used the horn to shift the shape of the land. The bubbles are merely vapours being released from the earth beneath the lake. They are harmless. This is the least such horns can achieve. Twice we have sundered a continent with such power. We know what we are doing."
Sundered a continent? Anne began to wonder why anyone needed to fight the ice demons with spears and bows, never mind guns. Just use that magic and leave us out of it.
Zheng frowned, and took hold of her machinegun again. She aimed it out towards the lake, well clear of any possible target, but still Anne knew she was going to shoot it. There was just enough time to cover her ears before the weapon chattered loudly. The Men in Green scattered, not expecting such a thing at all.
A tracer bullet flew out over the bubbling water, before splashing down clear of it a considerable distance away. "Well, it's not methane at least," the sergeant remarked with boredom, releasing the machinegun again, "Else we'd know by now."
Anne turned to her. "What would have happened if it was? A fire?"
Zheng gave a dismissive wave. "Or an explosion," she said, "Just checking if it was a trap." She looked down at Arrel. "See you on the other side. Driver, forward! Stick to the bubbles."
The buggies started moving again, the driver being careful to get on the proper path. Soon Anne found herself sailing across the surface of the roiling lake, like she was in a speedboat and not a car missing its skin and filled with murderous warriors.
It took no time at all to traverse the lake, by which time the bubbles were beginning to die out. As soon as they reached land again, Zheng reported back to Duquesne over the radio and ordered the vehicles to turn right, northwards along the shore.
Anne was careful to observe her surroundings as they passed by. Her reasoning to Duquesne for her presence in the front hadn't entirely been a lie.
The beach was the same flat mix of sand and mud as that of the Isle of Faces, easily firm enough for the vehicles to keep driving on. Beyond it was woodland, and no wild woodland either. Here and there were small dykes and earth ramparts. Both were most likely maintained to protect the farmland behind from flooding. Every now and then were fishing cabins on stilts at the high tide mark with cranes holding nets, looking like they were pulled straight off the banks of the Charente in France.
Flood defences, organised forestry, Anne noted to herself, Knowledge of tidal fisheries. Whatever society lived in the region, she was certain it was more advanced technologically and more organised socially than the Free Folk. "Until now anyway," Anne mumbled to herself, recalling the salutes the warriors gave the Army's soldiers and the discipline when she had arrived.
Another fifteen minutes and they came upon a village.
As the column of buggies got closer to it, Anne soon realised it used to be a village. There was furniture and abandoned carts all over the two streets. The buildings were burned and charred, including the large stone structure in the middle of it, as was a large pier. The latter blocked the way, its blackened and thick wooden piles driven into the beach looking like gravestones from a distance. A small but very rapid stream tore down a hillside in two waterfalls, before emptying into the lake. Hopefully the villagers all got away.
Zheng muttered more commands into her radio, and once again, the buggy stopped and waited for the others to catch up and come parallel. "Dismount!" she commanded at the top of her voice, "Dismount!" She hopped out of the vehicle and the soldier in the front passenger seat climbed over to take her place with the machine gun. All around, Free Folk warriors were getting off the buggies and bringing crossbows into their hands.
Not about to be left behind, Anne shimmied in her seat to the edge, ready to hop out herself. Zheng quickly stepped over and shoved her back into it. "Not you," she said, "We need to clear that village."
Anne stormed forwards again to the exit, scanning the settlement for a second. "Looks empty to me."
"Looks can be deceiving," Zheng growled, "Watch from the car. It'll be following closely behind, you won't miss anything except arrows. They'll be too busy shooting at us to care about you."
Deflating a little, Anne sat back down. Okay, maybe catching an arrow with my body is a possibility here.
The Free Folk and the few Canadians that had got out of the vehicles formed a loose battle line, pairing up. They advanced towards the village. The buggy crept forward behind them, the soldier pointing the machine gun beside Anne at this thing and that, everywhere armed men might be hiding. She watched with trepidation… but no enemies sprung forth.
As the village became closer and closer, the vague smell of fire and rot rose up. No one has lived here for a while.
Zheng held up a closed fist and a command crackled over the radio, just barely incomprehensible. The soldiers, warriors and buggies stopped. More orders. Those on foot split up into two teams, and began moving around the edges of the village, seeking trouble. Meanwhile, the buggies' gunners sat and watched, ready to shower the place with bullets and grenades.
Anne watched with them, but for other things. She noticed the stone structures in the village, as they were pretty distinctive. The large central one was quite obviously some sort of temple. It had some small stained glass windows, miraculously unsmashed, and the symbol of a seven pointed star on it. The regional religion had seven gods.
Another set of buildings were very obviously grain silos. There were seven of them too, implying their importance to the culture by linking it to their religion. They were also large enough to hold grain for years.
Lastly, there were smokehouses, squat things with slots on the outside to allow people to stoke the things without going inside. They had black marks over them that were far older than the fire damage elsewhere.
Winters don't last just a few months here, Anne reminded herself, They prepare accordingly.
Eventually, Zheng and the foot soldiers reappeared at the other end of the village, and they swept through it back towards the buggies. This took some time, as every building was checked. When they arrived back again, they were relaxed, holding their weapons at rest. No enemies about, then.
Zheng wiped sweat off her brow, and relit her cigar. "We'll need to clear the streets. Tide is coming in, we won't be able to use the shore as a road all the way to Harrenhal anyway. I'll assign you an escort, and you can poke around if you want."
She turned to the occupants of another buggy and some Free Folk nearby. "Get the Raven up!" she said, before adding something in the Common tongue. The Canadians inside got out and began offloading a box from the back of the buggy, while a Free Folk warrior jumped clear and made their way towards Anne's own vehicle.
The 'spearwife' had hair just as red as the Ygritte girl, but was far taller and her face was thinner. Eyes followed her as she moved, and not just because of the crossbow in her arms, the shield on her back or the mace on her belt. Even covered in chainmail and padding, the boys knew what they liked. And it wasn't just Free Folk gazes either.
Anne sighed at the predictability of it all. Put your tongues back, boys.
"This is Grette," Zheng said, "One of Sayer's girls."
Anne felt one of her eyebrows raise of its own accord. "One of?"
Zheng snorted. "Yeah, turns out being a deadeye shot with a seven-point-six-two is very sexy to the Free Folk. Plus Sayer is just a nice guy." Grette asked something in the Old Tongue, which sounded a whole lot like the Breton language. Zheng explained back, the second language in as many hours she had spoken flawlessly.
I really need this translation magic, Anne thought, a pang of jealousy twisting in her gut a little.
"Grette will be your escort," Zheng declared, as she turned and left, "Don't do anything stupid!" More warriors joined her, moving for the first wrecked cart that needed to be shifted out of the street. Stupid like what?
The buzz of a small motor directed Anne's attention upwards, and she ducked as the small grey drone was launched a little too close for comfort. The little aircraft sped away into the sky, before banking into a wide circle, its round camera swivelling this way and that, searching for trouble.
Anne pulled herself up again, reflecting that the sight of a 'UAV' would probably be like a UFO to the Westerosi. As if to confirm that notion, she found Grette had ducked too, and the two shared a small smile. "Guess we're all just human," Anne said to her, causing confusion. Waving it off, she dismounted properly and marched away. "Come on," she called, her excitement growing, "Let's see what we can find!"
They bypassed the work of shoving the obstacles away, which looked a lot like hard work from the huffing and puffing of the warriors, and Anne led the pair straight into the village. Grette immediately had her crossbow up, a redundant action as there were two pairs of Canadian soldiers further in looking suitably alert and heavily armed.
Feeling safe, Anne made straight for the big central temple. They really love the number seven, she thought, as she realised it had a heptagon shape. The corners had little carved statues that must have been centuries old, the style reminded her of 'Dark Ages' European church carvings or Viking ones. I need to have more books on medieval Europe. It was far from her area of direct expertise.
The large doors were open, the wood near their handles battered and splintered. Anne paused a moment to consider that, before the silhouette of large statues in multi-coloured light within caught her attention. She began to rush inside, but slowed at once as a rotting, sweetly smell hit her like a slap.
Hasn't been cleaned in months in summer heat, Anne concluded, pressing forward. The statues were utterly fascinating. They stood life-sized on stone plinths, carved from wood. They were painted gaudily, like how ancient Greek statues used to be, with interesting patterns up and down the hems of their flowing robes.
The depictions of the seven gods were strangely predictable too. There was a sort of king-as-patriarch; a smith god with a hammer and a warrior god with a sword, both men; the Triple Goddess of beautiful maiden, gravid mother and crone holding a lantern… and the last one could only represent death, its head entirely covered by a sinister hood with a long curved point.
Anne couldn't help but be drawn towards the death god. The stained glass windows were placed so that no light ever touched it. Even the shape of the building seemed to stretch slightly so that its statue was a little further away from the others.
With a frown, she rummaged in her pocket for a small flashlight she kept at all times, and aimed it up. She found it was painted dark blue, with little white skulls on the hem of its robe. She moved closer, trying to see the face. The beam of her light revealed it had no face, just a round void painted black. Sinister.
Her foot kicked something left on the ground, and she quickly redirected her beam towards the floor.
The entire space between her and the statue of the death god was covered in bones and corpses.
They had long putrefied, the soft parts of the body rotted off and the teeth fallen out. The floor was black with what was left of the soft parts of the body that had rotted off. Two dozen grinning skulls stared up at her. Those bones clothed in women's clothes lay with their legs splayed out or draped over barrels. Those in men's clothes had shattered skulls or detached limbs.
Anne froze. Her tongue felt swollen, pins and needles flared up her arms and legs before pooling in her hands and feet. Her teeth chattered. Someone spoke to her, the voice echoing off the stone all around.
Bougez, bougez, BOUGEZ! her mind screamed. Her body just stayed still and numb.
As if someone had moved a switch, control of her legs and arms returned to her. She bolted and scrambled back towards the door, finding Grette there in the daylight waiting for her with wide eyes. Just as she was about to make it outside when she tripped, sending her sprawling into the dust just outside.
Pain ringing all over the front of her body and the taste of blood on her tongue, her stomach chose that moment to retch and expel her breakfast onto the ground out of her mouth. Suddenly exhausted, Anne rolled over and lay on her back, as Grette knelt beside her and fussed. More Breton-like words poured out, as if they could be understood.
As her rational mind began to reassert itself, Anne felt a burning shame and a plunge of fear rip through her. She had seen and worked with dead bodies before, she shouldn't have reacted that way. It was as much the implication as the smell and remains. Those people were tortured and abused before the end, she said, And the same thing could happen to me. Which is why I was allowed to come along.
A look of utter shock on her face, Grette pulled Anne up by the arm and offered a skin to drink from.
"Thanks," Anne replied weakly, taking the offer.
Expecting water, she got red wine instead. Coughing and spluttering at first and her mouth stinging where she had cut her lip, she nonetheless appreciated the liquid's ability to overwhelm the taste of vomit and the lingering smell of corpse in her nostrils. She used it like mouthwash, swirling it around her mouth and spitting it out. That sent Grette grabbing for the skin, before Anne managed to take another drink and swallowed it this time.
The smell of cigar smoke soon joined the wine.
Zheng wandered up, mouth tight with concern. Grette reported to her about what had happened, provoking a small nod. She took a quick look inside the temple before returning. "You okay?" she asked Anne, with surprising kindness, "Didn't know it was that bad in there."
Liar. "Not really okay, no," Anne replied, "This is why Duquesne said yes, isn't it?"
Zheng shrugged. "He didn't share the why with me. But I'm sure he knew it was possible you'd see this kinda thing. We know you don't like being under our command, but this is a dangerous place to be, Doctor. Dangerous places are our bread and butter."
You don't say. Anne took another swig of wine and handed the skin back to Grette, who weighed it in her hands and complained.
"Welcome to Westeros," Zheng added.
Anne narrowed her eyes, finding the wine hadn't done enough to rid her of the scents and tastes she wanted gone. I need a gun, she decided, however much she knew she wouldn't be given a weapon. One thing at a time.
"Shut up and give me a cigar, Sergeant."