Elda pressed a trembling hand to the ragged hole in her side. Warmth bled between her fingers—too much. Each breath stung like thorn against her ribs, and she could taste death in the back of his throat. She staggered forward, one foot dragging behind the other, boots soaked with mud and her own blood.
Through the underbrush, she pushed, teeth gritted, vision blurring at the edges. A distant shout cut through the stillness. A voice. No, three. Then the echoing howl of a hound, not in comparison to the one that she had just lost, but it will do just fine. And they were close. Closer than she'd hoped. She dropped to one knee behind the twisted trunk of a fallen pine, breath hitching in her throat.
Her shoulder pulsed—where the arrow had gone clean through earlier. She'd broken the shaft off, but the wound festered. Poisoned. Every heartbeat felt like thunder in her chest. She could feel the fever chewing its way up her spine, burning behind her eyes. There was only so much her old body could take.
She froze.
A branch just snapped. She remained still. She pressed into the bark, one hand gripping the dull edge of her blade. She could barely lift it now. But she would—she had to.
"The beast is acting funny, but I smell blood" One of them said. "She has to be here somewhere"
Footsteps crunched around her. They'd been hunting her for over two hours, and she had already ran out of kcava roots so soon the hound would be of clear mind.
"Found her!" a young voice called out.
She turned. A boy with his blade drawn stood a few feet away. He didn't rush. He just watched, calm and confident, as the others closed in.
Elda slumped back in resignation, her fingers slipping from the blade.
"How's she still alive like this?" one of the newcomers muttered, eyeing her warily. He glanced at another. "Are we to bring her back alive?"
"Dunno," said the burly man struggling with the snarling hound. The beast strained against its leash, furious at Elda's earlier trickery. It must have really not like how she messed up with his senses. They are very sensitive creatures after all. How can lowlives like these be able to afford control over one?
Elda could feel the poison doing it's work—Her limbs were heavy. Her vision dimmed. She could tell the particular poison that it was but she had nothing on her to fight it back with.
A bead-sized green pellet fell from her sleeve into her palm, and she quickly swallowed it, agitating those who saw it.
"Relax" the one with the bow said. "She's harmless."
But even he didn't sound convinced.
Weakness overwhelmed her. Her body went slack. Her eyes fluttered shut, and before her four hunters, her breathing stopped.
"Is she dead?" someone whispered.
"I don't know" the archer said, studying Elda, still unsettled.
"Well check!" another urged.
After a short hesitation, the archer drew his short blade and began to approach Elda's corpse very cautiously.
When he got close, he kicked her leg hard like it would rouse her.
"Hey if we stay out here another hour with this beast we will be the ones ending between its teeth!" the one with the hound barked, his struggles worsening as his muscles strained to the limits.
The archer grew more courageous as he got closer. He became convinced she was indeed dead, and he leaned in to check her breathing, with a finger under her nose.
"You are not serious" the first one scoffed.
He brought out a vial of strange dust and sprinkled it under her nostrils. When he got no reaction, he turned to them. "She is dead"
They let out a collective sigh of relief.
One of them brought out a strange animal's horn and blew a unique sound on it. The sound echoed through the forest, scattering birds.
"So are we taking her head, or her full body" the archer asked.
"What kind of question is that?" the second one questioned. "She is an ancient, you think proof of death is all they will want her for?"
The archer sighed, slid his blade back into its scabbard, and hoisted Elda's limp body over his shoulder.
They didn't go far.
They all felt it at once, but were not quick to understand where the strangeness came from. Vines erupted from the earth. One smashed through the second hunter's neck, killing him instantly. More vines struck, impaling two others in a heartbeat. The archer, carrying Elda, took a spike through the chest and collapsed, dropping her to the ground to her utmost anguish.
The freed hound lunged at Elda, but vines snared it mid-air. They strained, nearly snapping, until Elda reached out, her trembling hand brushing the beast's head. Purple fire flared, reducing it to ash.
She struggled to the archer, rummaging through his clothes with the bite of the poison. No one with a Nullruut laced weapon will go about without at least a palliative. She first found a potion, then a palliative. Both cannot work concurrently, so she had to choose one. She discarded the potion, and downed the palliative.
She reached for a stick, with an incantation, it sped her away from the forest.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
Helene drew a circle on the table using powdered owl bone and soot, muttering under her breath. She placed a strip of cloth at the center, sealing it with drips of wax as her chant grew. A wolf's tooth steeped in brine, a crushed thistle flower, a single eyelash bound in spider silk—each item joined the ritual. As she reached for the dead raven in its cage, she got a sensation of a message coming in and she immediately realized who it was even before the astral projection came on.
"I thought they got to you," Helene whispered, relief softening her face as Elda's image shimmered into being. "I couldn't reach you."
She saw it instantly—Elda was pale, battered, drained.
"What happened?"
Elda exhaled, voice weak. "Vyrnmont… is more dangerous than we thought."
"How do you mean?" Helene asked. "You tried to kill him?"
"No" Elda said, "I'm not stupid."
Elda paused, as if to give herself time to recover enough to speak.
"I needed to know what we were dealing with" she began. "And what better way to know than someone who was involved."
Helene stayed silent, listening.
"I knew they wouldn't discard Hohenberg's body" she went on. "So I went looking for it. Later traced it to the Willow forest of the northeast. I found an underground citadel there, and when I made my way in, I came face to face with Sable Vyrnmont."
Even though it was a projection, there was tension with the mention of his name.
"He was waiting for me" Elda said, her voice tight. "Before I could do anything, I fell to my knees in a state of absolute weakness. I have never experienced anything like that before"
"What are you saying?"
She took a breath in. "At the mere will of Vyrnmont, I was completely drained of mana" she said to the absolute fear of Helene. "Sable Vyrnmont has the power to render anyone powerless."
The announcement stayed there for long like it wasn't real. It was too big to be real. Helene suddenly became suspicious.
"How did you survive?" she asked.
Elda looked to the side, like she was listening for movement, then she turned back. "Not sure I have" she gave a bitter smile. "It has only cost me my dog so far"
Helene felt the sadness. She knew how much Elda cherished that hound beast. More than life itself so she could see behind the vain humor. It wouldn't have being her decision to trade lives. Not with any of her creatures. "I'm sorry" she said softly. .
"He will be coming for me, no doubt" Elda said. "And I don't know how much he knows about you. How did it go with the king?"
"He wouldn't listen," Helene said coolly.
"What now?" Elda asked.
"It can't be helped," Helene replied.
"You sure?"
Helene heard the sound of approaching raven so she immediately ended the transmission. She didn't go to the window to ascertain if it was indeed the message she was waiting for. Her tome appeared the moment she began chanting. The line drawn turned purple colored smoke, and even more lines were drawn within, creating symbols, and at the end of the chant, they got absorbed into the dead bird.
It twitched—then sprang to life, cawing, eyes flaming with purple flames. It hopped onto Helene's offered arm, and she left her house for the waiting horse outside.
If Vyrnmont is already onto them then this would almost certainly be a trap, but she has to take that chance. It wasn't a surprise to see that even the captain of the knights have being captured. It took away her chance of making it out alive with near certainty, but it also confirmed the desperation that they are in.
She raised the arm up and the undead flew up. She kept her eyes on it as she climbed the horse.
As the undead put more distance, going north, Helene began to chant. The spell forced blood out of her nose as she sacrificed 5 years of her life to it.
If she died within 48 hours, warnings would reach the continent's leaders.
She spurred her horse, chasing the raven toward death.