Queens of the World: A New Family

by LucasGRivers

Summary:

“That’s not true,” said Farnese, “you’re a liar.”
“I am the only part of you that is honest,” said the Ghoul. “The lust you feel for misery, the burning want for pain. The raging self hatred that desires above all to make everything suffer like you do. This is why you kill. This is why you murder. Monster.” Farnese closed her eyes, pushed her face into the dirt and held the back of her head.
“No,” she screamed.
“You’re pathetic, you’re weak,” said the ghoul.
She was weak, so weak. Yet in her weakness she found something weaker than herself. Someone who needed Farnese more than she needed her. She wanted Casca to live and get better even if that meant losing any chance she had with the Black Swordsman. And in that moment, as the darkness within her bared its horrible fangs dripping with blood, she had a revelation. Strength wasn’t physical prowess or destroying evil. It didn’t come from glory on the battlefield. She didn’t need to become a better storm to strip the world of its terror. Power didn’t flow from authority or fear or violence. Real power came from taking something fragile into your hands and protecting it from anything that would break it.

Notes:

It’s hard to believe that I started this project well over a year ago. The first half of this chapter will serve as a recap of the previous two books to help you get back up to speed so you don’t need to re-read them. If this is your first time reading the series I would recommend starting at book 1 as the series is canon divergent enough that you might wonder what certain events reference.

Chapter 1: The Hunt

The wind blew cold pin pricks into Farnese’s face as she stared at the treacherous path winding down the mountain side. The thick cotton hood and cloak held over her face failed to stop the miserable chill from penetrating. Serpico’s body sometimes blocked the wind but it shifted as they wound down the mountain. This misery was nothing new; she always trembled on the edge of some great precipice looking for Serpico to shield her.

The coldest season held special prominence in her life. Snow fell on the winter day she was born. Her father always came during winter. Her first heretic burning came in winter, running from the loneliness and darkness towards the great fire always burning outside her window. Adulation from the mob poured onto her like a waterfall while dancing with the fireflies and snowflakes in the killing fields. For once she felt accepted but that love was merely the shadow of the feelings she longed for. So she took to violence and any abominable act which could bring about the recognition of her existence from the people she really wished would love her: her parents.

Nothing worked so she drudged through life becoming angrier and lonelier until the day she found Serpico face down in the snow ready to die. She nursed him back to health and for that she believed he would be her property, but she had no idea he would become the bedrock on which she built her entire life. Two lonely prisoners walked hand in hand through an icy prison, her only comfort against the darkness and loneliness that stalked the Vandimion mansion like a great beast.

Serpico stopped and Farnese broke from her thoughts. The daylight grew scant as black clouds filled the sky. He shouted but she couldn’t hear him over the howling wind. She yelled “What” but couldn’t hear her own voice. Serpico gestured towards the wall before disappearing into a nook barely large enough for two people. His arms pulled her into an intimate embrace then swaddled her in his cloak.

“We will rest here for the night,” shouted Serpico. Her face nuzzled into his neck as her arms wrapped around his thin, hard body. They fit together like puzzle pieces. Complete they emitted a heat that would burn away any chill nature or God could throw at them. To Farnese this was torture and ecstasy. They grew together in that veiled garden playing through the years. She invested her love, hate, fears, hopes, dreams, and even her budding adolescence into him with a reckless abandon. At no point did she stop to take into consideration his feelings as she fell hopelessly, irrevocably and maddeningly in love until that night, besieged by desperation in the chilly graveyard when she finally laid bare the contents of her soul only to be met with rejection that sent her spiraling into suicidal despair.

Farnese’s tears wet the side of Serpico’s neck. A comforting hand rubbed her shoulder as an arm embraced her.

“M’lady,” said Serpico, “Did we get more than we bargained for?”

“Like all storms, this shall pass,” said Farnese. Her father sent her to a monastery, unbeknownst to her, to serve the Holy See as the Commander of the Holy Iron Chain Knights. In the snow covered grounds of the monastery she found her one shining light buried within her depression and anxiety: God. Or so she thought. She really found the warmth of lost girls who needed her. Within that warm embrace she grew content only to have her happiness ripped away for the intoxicating enthrall of power.

Covered by the mantle of authority given by the Holy See, she set out on a quest to rid herself of the poison that she was convinced turned her from the one true God: Serpico’s love. Despite her sacrifices of flesh, despite her desperate bids to rend him from her body, she was never free of her burning desire for him. The self torture only further twisted her dark desires until something hideous emerged, something evil. She hatched a plan with her brother Poliziano. Countless dozens of innocent people died so that Serpico could rest the torch into his mother’s pyre. And in the shadow of that great sanitarium as the dancing flames cast by his mother’s corpse warmed the winter chill, she had inadvertently sent her beloved Serpico into an inward retreat that would take him further from her.

“M’lady, we need to move,” said Serpico. He rocked her shoulders. Darkness still filled the world under his cloak. Her arms unwrapped him, the cloak lowered and a brilliant white light blinded her. The blizzard gave way to a pristine whiteness blanketing the mountains and valleys. From their height, the whole countryside looked like a wrinkled silk sheet. Farnese’s wobbly, numb legs failed her so she crawled onto the mountain path then stared down the steep fall. Her legs dangled from the edge as she waited for the feeling to return. Serpico leaned on the cliff-side for balance.

“It’s beautiful,” said Farnese, “To think this is the same world as Albion.” Her thoughts turned to Guts and the hawk of darkness: the giant lizard man, the eclipse, the dream of the white hawk and the lake of blood. At first she thought The Black Swordsman was just a fairy tale invented by scared people to cope with the famine and pestilence spreading through-out the continent. But the rumors lead them to scenes of death and destruction laid across the land like a giant’s footprints. Farnese laughed at how easily she thought she would capture him but misfortune and misery hectored their ill-fated mission. To think that she thought she could turn that indomitable man into her servant. She couldn’t even guide her pampered, docile army through the changing seasons. Two long years of chasing his coattails withered away before she finally set eyes upon him. How fitting that she should meet him for the first time in spring. He was the spring that ended her winter. He was the dawn that broke the darkness. He was her destiny.

Serpico sat next to the commander and handed her a chunk of meat that was noticeably larger than the one he chewed on. She tore off a piece and put it into his hand. A smile broke across his lips and she swung her legs faster without realizing. The meat disappeared in several bites and her stomach growled with disapproval. Serpico stood then dusted the snow off his trousers.

“We should go before the cold sets in,” said Serpico. Farnese followed him down the narrow path, clinging close to the mountainside afraid of falling to her death. They made much better time down the mountain without the harsh winds blowing the snow into their faces and changing the footing. For the first time, Farnese felt like Guts could soon be within her reach.

The prospect of having Guts excited and terrified her. He broke something within her during their first meeting. The rose tinted stain left on her vision by the rigid orthodoxy of the Holy See shattered under his strange power to rip apart her reality. It was as though she looked upon the world for the first time as those mutant dogs snarled at her and the monstrous horse attempted to mount her. Everything she learned within the Holy See about magic, demons and God had been undone in one night. Through the horrible degrading trial, to her un-triumphant return to command the Holy Iron Chain Knights, she struggled with the implications of this new world, of Gut’s world: the world of terror that surged underneath her pampered reality that she saw but a glimpse of as a child dancing among the purges.

Father Mozgus poured her one last drought of power so strong that she could forever bury that terror under the intoxicating effects of righteousness. But the vision exposed to her by the Black Swordsman could not be undone. The horrors of the slums around Albion seemed like a nightmare pushed from her mind once awake. Farnese thought back on all the people she was responsible for killing. Over a hundred souls burned before Albion alone. Now she must be accountable for at least a thousand. The idea that she was just following orders provided cold comfort. The Black Swordsman might have been stronger than her entire host, but those knights were stronger than Mozgus and stronger than the useless old men barking orders. The purges could have stopped any time she wanted but she didn’t want to like a drunk who thinks she was in control only to find her cup never empty. Now that life was behind her; she renounced her position within the Holy See and self exiled from the Vandimion family. The road to real strength would be a long one but at least she unburdened herself from the mantel placed upon her by the Holy See.

“M’lady, the bottom,” said Serpico pointing down the path. The path took a sudden downward turn towards the ground then leveled off into a clearing. Her hulking steps landed where Serpico had walked before as she inched down the slippery, snow covered path. Once she reached the bottom, she dropped onto the ground then threw snow into the air whooping with delight. Serpico’s hands clutched his backpack straps as he watched her with an ever so slight smirk.

Her hands packed the snow into a cold hard ball that she let fly. Serpico jumped backwards as the snowball flew past him. He ran towards the tree line. Farnese gave chase, balling snow when she could and throwing it only to miss wildly as she lost ground on him. Hundreds of meters separated them in the short run to the tree line before he ducked behind a tree. Farnese held her next projectile until she could get close enough to hit him. A snowball flew from thebodyguard’s hand smashing into her chest. She clutched herself shrieking.

“I’m sorry, M’lady,” said Serpico as he rushed to her. A snowball bounced off his stomach and Farnese let out an excited squeal.

“I got you,” exclaimed Farnese. Another snowball snapped her out of her glee.A great battle broke out. One whizzed past Farnese as she dove out of the way. Another connected with Serpico’s shoulder causing his retreat into the woods. Farnese laid behind her swollen tick backpack as she made a stockpile of ammunition.

The game was childish but that was exactly what she needed. Years spent in somber reflection over God and morality sapped all the joy from life. Three times the Black Swordsman severed the tethers holding together her reality: first, with the dogs on the beach, then within the heretic den outside of the great tower where a monstrous Guts fought half ghoul men and finally the destruction of the Tower of Albion.

At the disaster of Albion she learned of a new threat: the simpleton girl and her special relationship with the Black Swordsman. He jumped headlong into a hopeless battle between The Holy Iron Chain Knights and the Heretics to save her. He stormed Albion Tower, fought against the encroaching madness and savedthe simpleton. How could his love for one like her be so strong? What did it bode for Farnese?

Farnese”s arm grew tired and she stood. The last of Serpico’s snow balls bounced off then she picked up her backpack. He emerged from the woods holding his backpack straps as if to say ‘I have no more.’

“Where to, M’Lady,” said Serpico. The white even field revealed no signs of a road so they would have to blaze their own trail.

“Follow me,” said Farnese. A gap cut through the forrest where the trees seemed just a little more spread out. The wide opening zig zagged until dumping into another clearing.Serpico perked up then ran ahead. Farnese struggled to keep up as her feet sunk into the knee high snow. Her breath burned in her chest as she reached the body guard squatting by a deep depression.

The rut wound north around the mountain edges until stopping at whiteness splattered with blood circles. Odd lumps scattered throughout the snow. Serpico wiped off a mound revealing a frozen horse decorated in Kushan armor. Farnese dug out a frozen corpse, its head bisected diagonally. They dug up every mound revealing dead men and horses but not the Black Swordsman or the simpleton. Two sets of foot prints marched north into the tree line.

“This must be where his horse died,” said Serpico. The contents of a dead charger’s saddlebag dumped onto the snow then Serpico picked through the items.

“What are you doing? We’re not ghouls,” said Farnese.

“M’Lady, he does not need this any more but we might,” said Serpico. Her back leaned against a tree as she wrapped her cloak around her shivering arms.Serpico looted the fallen horses and riders as she thought once more upon Guts standing against the darkness on their final night. The winter air nipped her exposed skin and flesh, a small indiscernible bite compared to that terror. Her whole life had been marred by darkness and cold, snow and loneliness. Once again she found herself in a blind march through the cold barely clinging to life chasing her destiny, a great adventure she was thrown into unprepared. At least, this time, she wasn’t alone.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dead wolves laid scattered through the woods. Sword slashes minced the uncorrupted beasts. Even these normal woodland animals were desperate enough to attack the Black Swordsman. Chills shook Farnese’s teeth as she held her jacket shut. What would Serpico do if such a monstrosity set upon them? Could they defend themselves?

“Lets hope nothing like this comes for us,” said Farnese.

“Agreed,” said Serpico.

They continued well into Balden finding a field littered with white fur covered flesh mounds hacked to pieces by a great blade. A massive set of jaws embedded in one’s torso as though it were nothing but a giant head sticking out of the ground. Farnese lifted a heavy eyelid to find maggots eating at putrid flesh. The eyeball popped sending a spray of grey liquid and insects towards her. She dropped the eyelid, shrieked and fell over backwards to get out of the way.

“What are these,” asked Farnese. Serpico stabbed one but the solid mass remained unmoved.

“I don’t know, M’lady. Nothing of this world,” said Serpico.

The make shift forest path disappeared into a well trafficked highwayat the apex of the mountain range. A muddled mosaic of foot prints, hoof prints and wagon tracks stretched as far as she could see in both directions.

“Now which way,” said Farnese. Serpico stared at the road with his impassable stoic expression.

“That way,” said Serpico pointing south. “The Black Swordsman spent years walking along the highway in Midland. He will return to what he knows.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Another blizzard dumped unrelenting snow onto the already covered dirt highway. Farnese pulled her cloak over her face as the driving winds blew stinging pinpricks into her eyes.

“How can this abysmal bumpkin highway have no Inns,” asked Farnese. A carriage struggled up the highway slipping on the snow before straightening again. Whiteness speckled the driver’s beard and hair. His eyes squinted against the blinding snows. Serpico’s arms waved him down. The driver pulled the reigns, stopping the horse just before her body guard.

“Hello, sir,” yelled Serpico. “Do you know where we can find an Inn?”

“Ain’t no Inns in these parts,” said the coachman, “but the ole silver mine’ll least give you a roof. Jus’ take the next fork towards the mount’an.”

“Have you seen a swordsman,” interrupted Farnese, “monstrously tall dressed head to toe in black traveling with a dark skinned simpleton woman?”

“No Miss,” said the driver, “If you go to the mount’an be safe, strange stories been comin’ from those parts. Then again, strange stories been comin’ from all parts.” The man whipped the reigns and the horse trotted forward.

“Thank you, sir,” said Serpico with a bow. The man waved dismissively as he disappeared into the shifting snows. They continued down the highway until the fork leading into the woods. Serpico dug through the snow at the base of a fallen tree then pulled out a branch. Farnese watched him from the roadside shivering in her boots wishing he would hurry up. Her friend may have felt a compulsion to always keep busy but she was cold and tired and ready to be someplace safe for a change.

The snow grew deeper as she wandered through the darkening woods without him. A coyote howled in the distance as she reached the cave entrance. Her back leaned against the wall while she clutched her swollen backpack. A cold draft poured from the voluminous cave but at least it was dry and there was enough space to lay down entirely if she desired. She grew quiet used to snuggling up to Serpico to share body warmth and in that way this shelter was inferior but she would like to wake up without stiff muscles burning for once.

The body guard lumbered into the cave arms practically bursting with wood. The sticks crashed into a heap followed by his backpack. Farnese’s arms extended towards Serpico and he threw her the provision bag. The nearly empty sack contained meager scraps of the salted meat and hardtack that they so judiciously apportioned on their travels. Her stomach growled in a constant state of mutiny from eating so little yet they burned through their supplies.

The sound of cloth tearing disrupted the cave’s silence followed by the banging of flint and steel. The sparks looked like small lightening bolts in the twilight barely illuminating the cave. Serpico nursed the fledgling fire, slowly feeding it small sticks and dried leaves until it caught enough for larger branches. Once the fire took hold, Serpico headed out of the cave.

“Wait,” called Farnese and he stopped. “Where are you going, it will be dark soon.”

“To get more wood, M’lady,” said Serpico. He left her alone in the darkness. She crawled to the fire then held her hands over the flames. A strange chittering rose from deep within the cave. The wind picked up again blowing snow into the entrance. A salty smokey flavor filled her mouth as she chewed on meat slowly trying not to swallow. Maybe if she didn’t eat the food right away she could trick her body into believing she had a full meal. The chittering grew louder as Farnese stared into the fire. A hard swallow brought the reluctant meat down her throat while she wondered where Serpico went. What was taking him so long? Didn’t he know that she needed him? Farnese put her hands onto her head wondering what the Black Swordsman would think of her. Guts would think this cave was a trifle. Probably the best accommodations he has had in months. A burning branch from the fire acted as a torch. Something out of sight skittered in the darkness.

“Hello,” called Farnese. She walked further into the cave until she stopped at a red slime covering the ground. The sticky gelatinous substance reminded her of blood turned putrid from exposure and age. The goo smelled like copper and death. The red trail lead her deeper into the cave. Dozens of giant bats cleaved to pieces rotted all over the floor. Her screams echoed around the walls. The torch fell as she ran to the cave entrance where Serpico struggled to drag a tree to their camp.

“M’Lady,” asked Serpico as she threw herself into him nearly knocking him over. The tree fell as his arms wrapped her.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” said Farnese. His hands rubbed her shoulders and back until she calmed then he let her go. Serpico removed a metal pot from his backpack and left the cave. “Did you find food?”

“No M’lady, we need to melt snow for water,” said Serpico before disappearing again. The chittering continued in the darkness as Farnese sat by the fire then pulled her knees to her chest. They would have a long night ahead of them but at least they were getting closer.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The food had long run out by the time Serpico and Farnese hit the city at the intersection of the mountain highway and the Midland main road. Her head ran light. Melted snow made a poor substitute for the food her growling stomach demanded. The pair walked down the main boulevard invisible to the beleaguered crowd wrapped head to toe to keep out the piercing winds.

The general store’s ancient stone exterior and half rotten shutters gave the building an unassuming facade. Farnese grabbed Serpico’s arm and squealed nonetheless. Empty produce bins sat at the store’s entrance while bare shelves lined the walls. A woman picked through cloth scraps and thread in the corner as a man behind the counter stood when they approached.

“Good Ev’nin’, Miss,” said the store keeper. Farnese surveyed the empty store one last time.

“Where do you keep the food,” asked Farnese. The shop keeper laughed before she looked him in the eyes, unsure of what was so funny.

“There’s a famine, Miss,” said the store owner, “what little food was here, the pilgrims to Albion took. Nothing doing ‘til the spring, I’m ‘fraid.”

“We’ve been walking through blizzards and winds for weeks. We haven’t eaten in days. We’ve been sleeping in fields, and caves and the most deplorable conditions,” said Farnese. “I have money, I’ll pay anything…”

“Sorry, Miss, can’t sell ya somethin’ I don’t have,” said the shop keeper. Tears burst down Farnese’s cheeks as she rubbed her eyes. The hunger, desperation, anger and futility couldn’t be contained any more. Maybe if this brute wouldn’t listen to pleas, he would respond to emotion. The part of his humanity that ached when seeing another being in distress would come to her aid.

“I’m sorry, M’lady,” said Serpico as he put his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s try the Inn.”

“’Fraid you won’t fair much better there,” said the shop keeper. “They’re jus’ as hard up as we are. Ev’ryone is. There’s ‘nother town bout two days south a here that might be able to help, if you can make it.”

The woman looking over the meager cloth selection approached Farnese and Serpico, folded her hands over her brown frock then bowed her head, shading her face with her white hat.

“Excuse me,” said the woman, “I couldn’t help but listen to your plight. You may come to my home for dinner and stay the night if you wish, then head south in the morrow.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” said Farnese. The woman put her cloth and thread on the counter.

“Thank me after you’ve seen dinner,” said the woman.

“That’ll be 15 coppers, mam,” said the shop keeper.

“Fifteen copper, for this,” asked the woman, “that’s robbery.”

“Times’re tough for everyone, mam. Stuffs hard ta come by,” said the shop keeper.

“Let’s go,” said the woman leaving the cloth on the table. Serpico put several small coins from his pocket onto the counter and took the cloth. The pair followed the woman out of the store before he gave her the purchase. She smiled then nestled it under one arm and pulled her cloak shut.

“Where are you nice kids from,” asked the woman as they trudged through the snow to the outskirts of town.

“Well, you see,” said Farnese, “we’re from a city… A big one…”

“Balden,” interrupted Serpico.

“Are you nobles,” asked the woman. How did she know that Farnese was from the Peerage? Her traveling cloths long ago lost the unused shine that marked the wealth that afforded a person the ability to constantly change their outfits. Her pants were dirty and stained. Her blouse emitted the most unpleasant odor. Only one other set of clothes was upon her person but she didn’t dare get changed in the biting cold.

“M’lady is the daughter of a Count and I am her sworn vassal and bodyguard,” said Serpico.

“How did you know,” asked Farnese. The woman pulled open a broken gate in front of a derelict cottage covered in moss and dead vines. They stopped on the creaky porch as the woman closed the gate.

“You don’t talk like you’re from around here,” said the woman, “and he keeps calling you M’Lady.” Farnese shot Serpico a look and he blushed.

“What brings a noblewoman and her bodyguard to Midland alone in the dead of winter,” asked the woman. She pushed down the handle then opened the door with a jerk and a pull. The wood slab clunked then pushed open into a great room. A young girl wearing a brown frock pushed a broom next to a barely lit fire pit where a pot boiled on a tripod. The meager heat of the cottage felt like a warm embrace to Farnese who long ago forgot anything but cold and misery.

“The plague touched Riga,” said Serpico, “so we journeyed south to visit M’lady’s cousin Jerome, the Baron of Essex but our carriage broke down stranding us in a blizzard.”

“Marigold,” said the woman, “We have guests, please add some more water to dinner.”

“But how,” objected the young woman, “the soup’s already spread so thin.”

“The Lord does bid hospitality to strangers in need,” said the woman, “we do best to please the Lord in such times.” The young woman huffed then ladled water from a barrel into the pot. “Please forgive my daughter, she has forgotten herself since the purges.”

The woman walked to the fire pit, lit the end of a small stick then lit a candle underneath a man’s portrait. The woman clutched her hands, bowed her head and said a prayer.

“If I may be so bold,” said Farnese when the woman lifted her head again, “who are you praying for?”

“My husband Mica,” said the woman, “today marks once year since he joined our Heavenly Father.”

“Since he was murdered by the Holy See,” said Marigold. The woman gasped then covered her mouth.

“Such blasphemy child,” said the woman, “what would your father have thought to hear you speak in such a way.”

“His opinion might have changed, given how he died,” said Marigold. The girl turned her back on the gobsmacked woman and continued sweeping.

“Her father was one to overlook the flaws in everyone,” said the woman. Farnese put her backpack on the ground then sat on a chair at the table followed by Serpico as the woman took wood bowls and spoons out of a cupboard.

“He sounds like a righteous man, how could he have run afoul of the inquisition,” asked Farnese. Marigold scoffed then swept harder.

“He was, your ladyship,” said the woman, “and that was his undoing. He had a life long friend who was a member of the Flame Goddess cult yet Mica couldn’t see his flaws. He stood witness for this friend and refused to renounce him even under threat of execution and he was put to the torch.

“Mary, Jacob is not yet home but let’s eat now and he can eat when he gets back,” said the woman. The young girl put the broom in the corner then filled the four bowls from the pot. Farnese’s spoon swirled the broth barely darker than water. The mother folded her hands to pray and Farnese followed then devoured the soup as the bemused mother watched her. The mother offered her own portion to Farnese who greedily ate it as well.

“Thank you, that was wonderful,” said Farnese.

“In a way, its comforting to know Balden is just as hard up as the rest of us,” said the mother. The front door thudded then creaked open. A man wrapped head to toe in cloth stomped at the entrance before removing his shoes. He stared at Farnese as he unwrapped the scarf from his face. “Jacob we have…,” the mother trailed off as she looked at his intense eyes.

“What is the Vandimion whore doing here,” said Jacob. Serpico jumped to his feet and Farnese slowly followed him.

“Jacob, language, she is our guest,” said the woman.

“Our guest,” asked Jacob, “she killed father.”

“I’m sorry,” said Farnese, “I’ve done many terrible things in my life but I have repented and renounced the Holy See. I have given up…”

“Renounced, given up,” interrupted Jacob, “That won’t bring back Dad or his friends. Will my sister grow up with a father? Can we make it through the winter? Will my mother smile again? Fuck your apology, Fuck your renunciation. And Fuck you.” The angry man stormed Farnese. Serpico’s rapier unsheathed as he entered a defensive stance.

“No Serpico,” said Farnese dropping on her knees. “I didn’t mean to, I feel terrible…” Farnese dug through her bag until she found the money pouch. She held out a large gold coin like an offering. The blade tip intentionally missed the man but he stopped advancing.

“But you did,” said Jacob. “How many hundreds died? I was there that day when you burned him, watching from the crowd. You enjoyed it.”

“No,” said Farnese. Her dark desires were visible. “I had to…”

“Bullshit,” said Jacob. Farnese grabbed and pulled Serpico towards her as the man advanced again. “You don’t get to just say you’re sorry and make everything all better. You’re a fucking monster.”

“I couldn’t help…” said Farnese. The coin dropped on the table and they ran for the door. The man ran to the table as Serpico sheaved his sword. The door pulled open and they disappeared into the dark night. Jacob thundered out of the cottage, stopping on the porch.

“Keep your blood money,” yelled the man. The heavy gold coin bounced off the back of her head unleashing a warm, pulsing pain, “I hope you suffocate on guilt, MURDERER.” The word murderer echoed in her mind like the throbbing pain as they ran through the snow down the highway out of town. Tears wet the corners of her eyes. How many times would she cry for the same thing? Did her tears mean anything anyway?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The rough bark poked through multiple layers as she watched Serpico dig in the snow underneath a tree like a squirrel. Was she really a monster? The wind blew snow from the canopy and for but a moment it seemed like it was snowing again.

She had for so long convinced herself that there was righteousness within her fury, that the suffering caused to her by her parents and the doctrine of the Holy See entitled her to take out the wickedness in the world. Justice and providence sweetened the enjoyment of the execution of God’s Will like how eating can make one full and satisfied. But these were people, not food, and her hunger was born of dark desires not necessity. People with families, obligations, morals, and their own places within the world. Places filled with hardship but hope too, and love. She burned it all down, the good with the bad, indiscriminately like a raging forest fire. Left in her path was the destruction of as much good as evil.

“A ha,” said Serpico holding up a pine cone.

“You made me suffer this appalling chill for a pine cone,” asked Farnese. Serpico held up a hand full of pine needles.

“And these,” said the body guard, “and the ground is full of them.” Serpico gathered a pile of pine cones and added them onto a blanket next to acorns, wild onions and a few chest nuts. They whiled away almost a whole day collecting squirrel food instead of advancing to the next town. If not for her unbearable hunger and the misery plaguing her muscles she would have thought this a fool’s errand. Her stomach gurgled as if to remind her what this was all about. Serpico picked up a stick and said, “All we need now is fire wood.”

Farnese gathered sticks with him in the woods. The shop keeper failed to mention that the two day journey south was through thick forests without any clear paths, wading through almost knee high snow. They were on the third day of their two day journey with no signs of the Black Swordsman since the abandoned mine. Farnese was losing faith in their mission. Faith, a funny word given the current state of her thoughts.

“How do you know all this,” asked Farnese. Serpico picked up a thick branch chunk before shoving his stick pile into her arms.

“Perfect,” said Serpico as he dug out chunk after chunk of the massive branch. “Before I was in your Ladyship’s employ, I would have to forage in the woods outside of Vritannis. The forest is full of food for those who know what to look for.” Had she been lost in the woods, without any hope of discovery, she would starve to death laying next to a banquet cursing the heavens for its cruelty. She really was utterly, irredeemably, useless.

Chapter 2: Reunion

The woods dumped Farnese and Serpico onto a road just outside the city limits. They followed the well worn street to a main boulevard scattered with buildings and row houses. The small town hardly fit Farnese’s idea of a city but she was excited to see stone roads again. The general store towered over the smaller busineses. People eyed the pair as she grabbed Serpico’s arm squealing.

“M’lady, do you want to get us food while I find the Inn,” asked Serpico. Bells jingled as she entered the store before he finished the question. Shelves lined up in neat groups overflowed with food, clothing, and countless other necessities. The jarred cherries looked especially appealing along with the peaches, apple sauce and dates. Before she knew it, the ex-commander found herself before a counter where a gruff man in a blood soaked apron dressed a cow.

“Meat,” squeaked Farnese.

“What’ll it be, lady,” said the butcher.

“Steak,” said Farnese. He sized her up then looked as though he was going to say something but decided against it. The juicy meat looked so good she thought she could eat the bloody flesh raw. The butcher wrapped the steak in plain white paper and placed it on the counter. The assorted jars clinked next to the white package.

“That’ll be two silver,” said the butcher. Farnese pulled a large gold coin from her travel bag.

“I can’t take that, I don’t got the change,” said the butcher. Farnese grabbed the jars, the meat and a small sack of potatoes by the counter.

“I’ll take these and we’ll call it even,” said Farnese.

“Where you from, girl,” said the butcher. The burly man turned the coin over in his hand then bit the corner. “It’s real as rain, all right.”

“Balden,” said Farnese as she headed for the door.

“You stayin’ in town,” asked the butcher.

“The Inn,” said Farnese. She stopped when she couldn’t get the door with her hands full so the butcher opened it.

“Just down there,” said the man, pointing at an alley.

“Much obliged,” said Farnese. Her body ached so much for food, the small quantity made her feel like a princess. She was practically rich with it. The thought made her giggle as she approached the end of the alley. Serpico held open the heavy front entrance. The Inn keeper smiled as she followed the hallway to an expansive suite. A fireplace roared next to a large bed tucked down with a goose comforter. Open curtains revealed an expansive backyard running to a tree line. Fresh fruit sat next to potpourri emmiting a pine smell.

“The honeymoon suite,” said Serpico. “I thought that would draw less attention…”

“Aren’t you proud of me,” interrupted Farnese. “I did it all by myself.”

“How much did it cost M’lady,” asked Serpico as he opened the cherry jar. Two fingers popped one into his mouth.

“Two silver,” said Farnese. The cherry flew from his mouth as he coughed into his hand.

“Two silver,” exclaimed Serpico.

“Not a problem,” said Farnese, “I gave him a gold coin and he was satisfied.”

“A deca-libre,” said Serpico. “But M’lady, a deca-libre is a two ounce gold coin, it’s worth 200 silver...”

“No bother,” said Farnese sitting at the table. “I am exhausted, make my dinner.” Serpico closed the black out curtains.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“M’lady, wake up,” said Serpico. Lost in the warm embrace of the down comforter, she didn’t want to wake up just yet. They could delay the trip another day if it meant being warm and comfortable. Hands shook her shoulders. “They’re here, get up!” The distant voice’s urgency brought her back to consciousness. Serpico pushed the dresser in front of the door just in time for it to slam into the furniture.

“Push,” called a deep masculine voice in the hallway. A table crashed behind the furniture as she dressed before throwing on her back pack and grabbing the peach jar. Serpico grabbed her hand. The jar flew into the seam between the curtains and exploded along with the window.

“Hey,” said Farnese. The door pounded the debris pile as it inched open.

“They’re comin’,” yelled a woman behind the inn. A curtain wrapped Serpico shattered the window’s remains by jumping through. Farnese’s hand gripped the frame as she pulled herself into the courtyard. Torch lights bobbed in the field as peasants closed on them. Hand in hand, they ran around the inn into another alley that spit them onto the people blocked main road. The swarm from the hotel clogged the alley behind them. Serpico’s rapier glistened in the torch light as it danced between the two closing groups.

“I’m sorry, M’lady,” said Serpico, “I can’t take so many…” Her knees hit the ground as she rifled through her backpack before removing the fat coin purse.

“Get her,” yelled a man. With all her might, she threw the sparkling gold coins into the air and bedlam broke loose. Peasants jumped trying to grab them in the air but the illusive metal clinked off the stone road. A torch swung into a man’s head as he bent to retrieve one. A woman bit the swinger’s shoulder as another man dove at their feet. Serpico’s grip pulled her up then they ran from the brawling mob. Shrieks and thudding blows filled the air along with curses and protestations.

Her breath ran hard in her lungs as they reached the city limits. Her mind grew light and lungs burned by the time the city left her view. She hunched over wheezing and Serpico stopped with her.

“I’m,” she huffed. “I’m… I’m… so sorry.” The sudden direction change of standing up made her feel like she was going to puke. “I’m so stupid, I lost it all.”

“Not all,” said Serpico. The body guard held up his hands with a gold coin between each finger. Her arms wrapped around him and he almost fell down.

“This way,” yelled voices down the road. They ran on deep into the night until snow overtook the road again and the shoulder disappeared at a bridge over a river. Serpico helped Farnese down the riverbank. Her back leaned against the cold stone wall as Serpico gathered fire wood. Her destiny was all but gone. The lost gold dealt their finances a mortal wound. No signs of the Black Swordsman revealed themselves to her for more than a week and she had no idea if they were even still on the right track.

“How are we ever supposed to catch him if we keep stopping all the time,” said Farnese. Her face dug into her knees as Serpico piled the wood into a cone over kindling. “How can we succeed if all we ever do is fight to stay alive. He will always be one step ahead of us again.”

“M’lady, that is the struggle for most people,” said Serpico. His form flickered in the dim haze of his fledgling fire.

“What do you mean,” said Farnese. As the fire grew, large foot prints in the snow mixed with the ashes of a camp fire because visible. Farnese grabbed a burning stick and held it aloft following the footprints as they moved back and forth. A red blotch decorated the stone wall. She held her small hand against the massive bloody hand print. It could belong to no other. Her destiny was still within her grasp.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The desolate cold broke into temperate days. The melting snow turned the dirt road into a muddy mess that reeked havoc on her ankles. Farnese was relieved when the dirt road turned into cobblestone once more. They neared a city and none too soon. Their supplies ran low and she could not fathom being so hungry again. A peasant man carrying a large backpack walked down the highway watching Farnese and Serpico. Farnese hid behind Serpico tugging on his sleeve.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Serpico. The burly man stopped then huffed an acknowledgment. “Have you seen a tall swordsman dressed in all black with an unnaturally large sword?”

“Nothin’ like that ‘round ‘ere,” said the man. He continued on and Farnese loosened her grip on Serpico with a sigh.

“He’s over two meters tall, chased by monsters and can tear the very fabric of reality, why does no one ever see him,” said Farnese. The two walked through the cottage lined street until they hit the main boulevard bustling with travelers taking advantage of the unusually hot day. “You find us an Inn, I’ll find a store.”

“But m’lady,” said Serpico. Farnese stood up straight and crossed her arms.

“Do you think me incapable of learning,” interrupted Farnese.

“It’s not that,” pleaded Serpico.

“I will have no more of this,” said Farnese. She continued down the street until she hit the general store. Racks of clothing greeted her at the entrance. A frilly, lace trimmed frock caught her attention. She pressed the dress against her body. The waist may need to be taken in but Serpico was handy with a needle and she planned on staying for several days in the comfort of a real bed. A woman wearing a plain black dress and white apron approached Farnese then bowed her head waiting to be recognized.

“How much for the dress,” asked Farnese.

“Ten silver, M’lady,” said the shop keeper.

“Brilliant, I’ll take it,” said Farnese. The woman followed her around the store pricing out any object that caught her attention as she amassed a hoard. The woman set aside the dress, called out a price and a man with a neatly kept handlebar mustache and spectacles kept a tally.

The hoard shifted from one pile to another as they checked the total: A blue hat with green ribbons, various jarred vegetables and preserves, salted meats, silk cloth with gold embroidery, which Serpico would use to fashion her a new shirt, fresh pantaloons, a brassier, herbs, spices, salt, a lantern, oil, a shovel, several umbrellas of different sizes, a fishing rod with line and hooks, several bags, a knife…

The raspberry tarts tasted tangy but sweet. A whole bag disappeared into her eager mouth by the time they finally finished tallying her bill. Serpico entered the store with a sour look upon his face.

“Tart,” asked Farnese pointing the bag at him.

“That will be 165 silver, M’Lady,” said the merchant man. Farnese handed the man a gold deca-libre. He whistled then bit into the coin. “It’s not every day you see one of these. I’d be careful who you show these to, miss, bandits have been robbing travelers.” The man handed her several silver coins. Two stock boys took handfuls out the barn doors.

“What is all of this,” said Serpico. Farnese walked outside and leaned against the front wall watching the boys carry out her purchase.

“Provision,” said Farnese.

“What are we going to do with all this,” said Serpico. The pile spread across half the porch threatening to teeter over from it’s apex.

“Use it,” said Farnese. The usually quick witted Serpico seemed out of sorts. He could not see the value of items she longed to have with her every day. She missed good food. How often did he say he wished he had a shovel, machete or other tool? The bright summer sun would soon beat down on them and they would be glad to have an umbrella.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me,” said Serpico, “we have no way to carry this. We can’t even get it to the hotel. You went way overboard.” He rubbed the side of his head. Farnese wrapped him in her arms and pulled his head into her chest. His body relented for a moment before he pulled away. “I’m sorry, M’lady, I lost myself. Let me see if the store has someone who could help us.” Serpico disappeared into the building.

People walking by eyed the merchandise before turning their gaze onto her. She nervously pulled on her collar suddenly aware of just how much stuff she had. Maybe Serpico had a point and she over did it just a little. She sighed wondering why they made such impractical, impossibly large sums of money if one could not use them.

The teen boy from Gut’s party stopped by the porch to look. The exposed flesh from his sleeveless jacket goose pimpled as he held the straps of an over stuffed backpack. A sword hilt popped out of a scabbard under his backpack. The young child wore the same clothing from their time fighting in Albion. Judging by the odor, he hadn’t washed them since then either.

“Isidro,” asked Farnese. An impish smile spread across his face. “Have you seen Guts?”

“Haven’t seen the big man,” said Isidro.

“You commoners like working,” said Farnese, “how would you like to work for me carrying some things? We’ll pay handsomely.” The young boy’s eyes squinted shut as he chuckled. The boy took an empty sack from the pile.

“First thing we gotta do,” said the boy. He shoved the salted meat into the bag then took a honey jar. Items disappeared into the sack until it swelled like an engorged tick. Two stock boys followed Serpico out of the store as she watched the young man go through the pile.

“What are you doing,” asked Serpico.

“I’ve hired this boy to help us carry everything,” said Farnese. The boy turned and Serpico was upon him faster than her eyes could process. A sword hilt caught Serpico’s stomach and he fell onto his knees gasping. The boy ran down the porch. “HEY THAT’S NOT YOUR’S!” The boy stopped to pull down his pants and exposed his naked bottom. His tongue waggled as he blew her a raspberry then pulled up his pants.

“Stupid nobles,” said Isidro, “Can’t be so naive.” A dried sausage chain popped out of the bag. “Thanks for the grub.” Isidro bit into the sausage and fed the meat string into his mouth. “MMM SO GOOD.” He ran off eating.

“That... little…,” said Serpico. He chased the boy still winded from the blow.

“Hey wait, our stuff,” said Farnese. Serpico and the boy ran up the street out of town. She paced for a minute watching them get further away, cursed under her breath then chased after them.

The boy wheezed as he ran still feeding sausage into his mouth. Incoherent speech babbled out of the boy as he half choked on the sausage while talking and running. Something sparkled in the air by his head. His bewildering actions gave a coughing Serpico the chance to slowly but steadily close the gap. The breath ripped out of Farnese’s lungs as she lagged behind.

“Lame brain,” shouted the boy. Serpico picked up a stick without breaking stride then whipped it at Isidro. The branch flew between the boy’s legs causing him to tumble losing the sausage from his mouth.

The boy’s arms clutched the swollen bag to his chest as Serpico hunched over him catching his breath.

“Dumb ass,” yelled the boy. Farnese’s arms tingled from the throbbing of her heart as she caught up to them. Her knees buckled as she steady herself then rubbed the tingling out of her arms

“You caught him, good,” huffed Farnese. “Cut off his arm at once.”

“Lady Farnese,” said Serpico.

“Oh, you drop threats at the drop of a hat,” said the boy. “S’why I can’t stand nobility.”

“You stole from nobility, such punishment is matter of course,” said Farnese. A strange looking creature with a bulbous head that was pointy at the top and round at the bottom like a chest nut flew up to her face. A small fat hand like an oven mitt waved in front of her eyes.

“Ya-ho,” said the creature, “You can see me now?” The fat hand pushed on her nose. Farnese shrieked, stumbled backwards, lost her footing and fell. The bodyguard caught her before she could hit the ground.

“Lady Farnese,” said Serpico. Her hand pressed into her thundering chest as she tried to get a hold of her nerves. The day was too much for her.

“Nice one,” said the boy.

“What is that thing,” asked Farnese. “Not another monster.” The chestnut head shrank as hair grew from its scalp. The body elongated, turning skinny. The small naked boy with the glistening crystaline wings flew between her and Isidro.

“It’s me, Puck,” said the elf boy.

“Yo, is my main man Guts around,” said Isidro. Farnese perked up at the mention of Guts. She stood from Serpico’s arms, brushed herself off then ran fingers across her hair to make sure it was still packed neatly into buns.

“Yeah,” said Puck. She grabbed the small creature’s arms and held them out as though he were crucified.

“Can you take me to him,” asked Farnese. The elf tried pulling out of her grip but he was stuck.

“You see,” said Puck, “we’re out looking for Casca, she kind of ran away.”

“We can help,” volunteered Farnese, “we’re great at finding people. We found Guts, twice.”

“Me too,” said Isidro, “Don’t forget he owes me big time.”

“Fine,” said Puck, “We’ll find him and ask if he wants you to help.” Farnese dropped his arms and he rubbed his shoulder before flying towards Isidro.

“Wait,” said Farnese, “our stuff! We have to get our stuff. Now we have plenty of help carrying it.”

Isidro and Puck continued on as though she didn’t speak. Serpico stood impassively just looking at her. She sighed wishing she had grabbed an umbrella and followed the two boys. Her destiny finally awaited her and she could deal with a little sun and a lost gold coin. Serpico grabbed the swollen sack out of Isidro’s hands.

“Hey,” exclaimed the boy. The boy tried drawing his short sword but Serpico’s rapier blade pressed against his throat before he could. “Oh right that’s yours!” Isidro chuckled nervously as Serpico fell back to Farnese slinging the bag over his shoulder. The little elf boy’s face came an uncomfortable distance from Farnese’s.

“What-da-ya need with Guts, you a spy” asked Puck. Her fingers pulled on the creatures wings and it shrieked. “What’s the big idea?”

“I still haven’t decided if this is real,” said Farnese. She let go and it flew backwards with its arms crossed and its cheeks puffed out. “I want him to train me.”

The teen boy guffawed.

“What,” said Farnese. The boy put his hands behind his head and whistled.

“Nothin,” said Isidro, “I think it’s great. I can’t wait.” The elf boy returned to the teen and walked ahead. They had no faith in her but it didn’t matter. She would do whatever it took to ingratiate herself with Guts and learn how to be strong from him. He saved her, after all, and if it was not her fate to join him then why did she find him again? Surely God does not set into motion such plans only for them to come to nothing. God and fate. Faith and Destiny. There she went again invoking that faith that scorned her. Farnese chuckled over the foolishness of her thoughts.

“M’Lady,” said Serpico. Her eyes met with his and he looked ahead to the boy and elf who chatted like old friends. They walked in silence down the highway until the stone gave way to dirt then narrowed. Puck turned up a field spotted with leaf-less trees. A large man in black armor sat on a log like a lion in the savanna. Chills ran down her arms as she saw the Black Swordsman again. Butterflies tied knots in her stomach. The impulse to hide behind Serpico almost overwhelmed her but Guts could sense weakness like a smell and she needed to be strong, her future depended on it. She closed her eyes, breathed in deep then sighed the tension away.

Puck hovered an inch from her eyes when she opened then.

“Boo,” said Puck and the woman jumped backwards. The annoying insect flew away laughing. The teen boy hunched over beside him and Guts watched them approach from the log, the dragon slayer leaning on his shoulder. Smoke drifted from the camp fire at Gut’s feet as he wrapped himself in his cloak. Farnese forgot the cold in her excitement to see the imposing man again. The sun already hung low on the horizon.

“Guts,” said Puck, “I found dropey and the knight lady and her boyfriend in town and they volunteered to help find Casca. So that’s why I brought along some guests.”

“Yo,” said Isidro.

“Hi,” said Serpico. The sudden onslaught of nerves and anticipation robbed Farnese of her ability to speak.

“You guys,” said Guts. The tired man’s one good eye hung half closed as his face drooped. The fatigue from not sleeping for months threatened to pull him under.

“I’ve been lookin’ for ya real hard since last time,” said Isidro. “You thought you could run from me but ya can’t! Chase like a snake, bite like a snappin’ turtle and gnaw like a vulture! That’s my motto.”

“W-we’ve got a sick girl and a good-for-nothin’,” said Puck, “give us a break.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Isidro, “where’s Casca?” Puck looked as though he just remembered something and flew to a tree next to the campsite. A rope tied to a low branch lead to a sitting woman’s wrists. A robe hood shaded most of the dark skinned woman’s face. She looked over her shoulder at the approaching elf then turned away when he got close.

“Casca, thank goodness you’re safe,” said Puck.

“Huh, what’s goin’ on,” asked Isidro. He looked over the bindings holding her wrists together. “Casca’s tied up?”

“It’s for her own safety,” said Guts. Farnese’s nerves chilled as she stared at the Black Swordsman. Sadness tinged his serious, tired face. His shoulders slumped just a little as his lip curled into a frown. Farnese wanted to wrap him in her arms and tell him everything would be OK. Maybe let him cry into her chest as she ran her fingers through his hair but he wouldn’t do that. Guts wasn’t the crying type nor was she entirely sure how he would respond to comforting. What could lead the man who loved her so profoundly that he risked his life time and again to tie her up like some kind of animal.

“A lot’s happened,” said the man. His eye met Farnese’s for a moment before looking away in shame.

“Well, I don’t know why, but that aside” said Isidro pulling his sword out and waving it in the air like a general leading troops, “Iiiiiiit’s deal time!! Now you get to pay me back!! You’re gonna teach me! The secrets of your sword fightin’ and the secret secrets! Leavin’ nothin’ out!! And soon! Like Now!”

Guts turned to Farnese and Serpico. Isidro paused with the sword held towards the sky. The oversized smile plastered on his face twitched.

“So what about you two,” said Guts. The twitch turned into a full blown tremor. “You still trying to catch me?” The tired man eyed Farnese up and down. The moment to seal her destiny finally came upon her and she froze. Guts sat yet his gaze still felt as though it came from above. Something unnatural within that man loomed over her like a giant. For a moment she felt like her father was sitting on that log. A disapproving scowl plastered his face as skeptical eyes cataloged everything she ever did to disappoint him. She felt small and useless and in that moment wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“Yeah, yeah watch out,” called Isidro. The boy turned to Farnese and leveled the sword at her, entering a fake engard stance and cocking his arm as though about to stab. “They were about to hack my arm off earlier.” The chestnut elf hit the boy in the head with a dandelion.

“That’s because you’re a criminal,” said Puck. Guts never took his eye off the commander. Was this her first test? A silent battle against the crippling indecision where she could win by reaching out to take the thing she longed for so much? His gaze turned intense and she couldn’t stand it any more. Her eyes looked away but he kept his attention on her. Like metal to lodestone, she pulled back to him. Her eyes widened as though she had fallen from a great height and the ground grew ever larger as it rushed towards her.

“Lady Farnese,” asked Serpico. Destiny, Fate, longing, desire, need. The exact word escaped her but she knew she couldn’t live without it any longer. The noblewoman knelt in front of the Black Swordsman and bowed her head.

“Please allow us to accompany you in your travels,” said Farnese. The ground suddenly stopped coming and she was saved. The tension melted and her face went slack. Guts stared quizzically at her as Serpico stood over her shoulder. “Common, aren’t you going to kneel too?” Serpico sighed then took a knee behind Farnese bowing his head.

“What’s the big idea,” asked Guts. Farnese felt glad his first words were not an outright rejection but concerned that he did not embrace her immediately.

“Don’t trust ‘em,” exclaimed Isidro resting the sword on his shoulder as he pointed at Farnese. “It’s like they’re suddenly revealin’ their hand! I bet they’ll wait for a chance to nab us! After all, they’re from the Holy See.”

“I have already secularized myself and abandoned the church,” said Farnese.

“Like we trust YOU, or anything nobles say,” said Isidro.

“I want to know what transcends the order I clung to,” said Farnese, “The Truth. And I want to learn a way to survive in the darkness where the light of that order does not reach. Please show me the way.” The man who tore her reality apart three times looked her up and down. His all piercing gaze honed standing against that strange hell he lived in could see through her. She longed to shed her play pretend robes and learn the ways of strength from the man who stood against the crushing darkness and won.

“Even if you confuse us by sayin’ complicated stuff, it ain’t happenin’,” said Isidro. “And how’re you gonna pay up for what you did to Casca at the tower of conviction? A little more and she would’ve been a charred corpse. First make some damn sense. So maybe you’d like to kowtow once for us? Can you do that, miss high-pride aristocrat?”

The teen was right. Her treatment of Casca was inexcusable. If it were not for the intervention of who knows what she would have died in that torture chamber hand delivered by Farnese in a naive attempt to bait the Black Swordsman into her grasp. The words from the monastery entered her mind: some scars are not so easy to remove regardless of how deeply you cut. No words could prove to the Black Swordsman that she meant what she said. Words were hollow. Guts responded to action. God does not give her trials she can not pass. He would require a sacrifice of the flesh. Farnese drew her sword.

“Oh, ho,” said Isidro wagging his sword at her, “You wanna fight? F-f-f-fine by me!” The sword cut into the base of a hair bun. The bun parted from her scalp with a flick of her wrist. The second bun fell to the ground. Her short hair fell around her head in uneven lengths.

“This is all I can do now,” said Farnese, “Someday I will make amends.” The life drained from her voice. How could she ever right the wrongs of her life? The scales had long ago toppled from the imbalance.

“Why do priests and nobles gotta be so drastic,” said Guts. Farnese looked up at him. “Do what you want.”

“All… All right then…” said Farnese. She couldn’t believe his words. Her face contorted into a smile, her shoulders lifted. Her throat burned. The tone in her voice threatened to raise in uncontrollable squeaks of joy so she forced the thanks and exclamations from her mind. Serpico stared at Guts with his squinted half shut eyes in an intense stare. Perhaps she failed to understand her companion again for it seemed that in that instance he was unhappy. Perhaps he expected this venture would fail. She pushed the unhappy thoughts from her mind. Her own rambling negative thoughts wouldn’t rob her of this victory.

“And I don’t need payback or apologies,” said Guts, “I’ve killed your comrades. We’re even.” The tall man stood from the log. “but forget me showing you ‘the way.’ That ain't my style. I don’t know what it is you want to learn but do it yourself. I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me.”

“Thank you,” said Farnese.

“It’s still too soon for that,” said Guts as he picked up his sword, “You might regret this by tomorrow morning. Going with us means you won’t have any more restful nights.” Farnese thought of the warm bed awaiting her at the inn. Her candied nuts, the sweet buns and umbrellas. For a minute she wondered if she really did the right thing. The lure of the comforts she grew up with was hard to just abandon outright. Those things never gave her happiness, not really. Tokens given to her by a family that at once feared her and found her to be a useless thing below consideration.

“Oh yeah,” said Isidro, “You mean we’ll find more ghost and monster? That’s what I’m talking about!!!” Serpico placed a hand on Farnese’s shoulder. His stoic gaze returned.

“Let’s gather some wood for the night,” said Serpico. The air grew cold as twilight started descending on the prairie. Frost would kiss the grass again before the sun rose and who knew what horrors awaited them. Farnese walked past a miserable Casca that stared ahead under her hood. The breath puffed out of her mouth in white clouds as she pulled her knees tightly to her chest. Farnese found something particularly sad and pathetic about the sick woman’s plight.

“M’lady,” said Serpico as he bent down to pick up a fallen stick. “Are we doing the right thing? Can we trust this man and that boy? We are more likely to awaken to find our property missing or our lives.” Farnese picked up a stick then bent it as though it were a whip.

“I don’t know,” said Farnese. She picked up another then another. “All I know is that I can’t go back to that mansion. My destiny may not be with that man but something draws me to him. Something overwhelming that I can’t ignore.” The pair picked up sticks in silence as Isidro argued with Puck by the fire.

The stick hoard grew tall with four people collecting them by the time the sun set. Guts threw an arm full of wood onto the fire then rubbed the back of his neck taking away a hand covered in blood.

The men formed a perimeter around the camp fire as Farnese drew her rapier. A burnt man ambled out of the darkness walking with a rigid posture. The blackened patchy flesh covered man carried the smell of cooked human meat. The dragon slayer rendered the monster in two as it reached for Isidro.

“Flesh,” said another zombie as it emerged from behind the group. Serpico thrust into it’s chest yet it continued to come. Isidro jumped then stabbed it’s head with his short sword. The lifeless body fell to the earth. The bound woman clutched her hood and shrieked as she pounded her head into the half dead tree.

Serpico stabbed another burnt man repeatedly until the perforated body dropped. He sheathed his sword, took a burning branch and whacked another in the head. Blackness bubbled out of the corpse’s mouth as a spirit screamed into the night before disappearing.

“Uhhh,” said Serpico, “I detest fire.” The branch swung into another body. Isidro jumped beside Serpico duel wielding burning branches flailing wildly at a zombie that stumbled then fell.

Casca bit the ropes tying her wrists together as tears poured down her cheeks. The sight of the pathetic woman struggling against her bindings touched Farnese. No one, rival or not, deserved to be treated like an animal. Her sword cut the bindings and the grateful woman buried her head into Farnese’s chest. Her hands embraced the woman’s head. Farnese comforted her as though she were a child. What did this woman mean to her? She was the love of the one she wished above all to recognize and love her. She was the barrier that stood between her and her ultimate prize yet in this moment of fear and panic and pity she couldn’t bring herself to hate the woman or see harm come to her. She only wished to see her no longer in pain, to comfort the suffering of a fellow who struggled against her own futility. Farnese was hopelessly weak, she couldn’t even deal with a rival as pathetic as this.

“Now, Now,” said Farnese as she stroked her hair. The dragon slayer cleaved two charred corpses in half with a single swing. The menacing man brought the massive blade back up then down on another. Farnese embraced Casca with a horrifying thought: she was a peer.

The men fought until the fire kissed zombies stopped coming as Farnese held the trembling woman. Casca’s strange bleating sounds of pain stopped and that was when Farnese knew the wave had passed. The simpleton ran behind a tree to urinate. Farnese’s legs wobbled when she stood. Serpico held her up by the shoulder as she stretched trying to regain the feeling she lost from kneeling for so long.

“How did she get out,” asked Guts. The monstrous man scowled at her and she remembered who put her in those bindings. “She already got away and almost did it again. You…”

“She’s a person, not a goat,” interrupted Farnese. Guts seemed taken aback by her words. “You can’t tie her to a post and lead her around on a leash!” The Black Swordsman turned his back and the weight of her words came crashing down upon her. He would hate her now, she knew it. He seemed to grow taller as she watched him, or maybe she was shrinking. The imbecile came up to her and wrapped her in a hug. Guts turned around again, the anger she expected to see was instead hurt and sadness.

“What ever,” said Guts. “You’re on first watch.” He slumped against the log, leaned his sword next to him, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. The man was out in a blink. What kind of fatigue laid so heavily upon him? Isidro slept next to Guts’ feet. Serpico unrolled his mat far away from the fire with his back to the blaze.

Farnese sat next to the wood pile and threw on another branch. Casca placed her head into Farnese’s lap and she pet it then hummed the lullaby from the Monastery. The woman looked peaceful sleeping. Her beauty shown through in this serene moment and Farnese remembered once again who this simpleton was. What kind of relationship could Farnese really have with Guts while Casca was around? How easy would it be for her to have some kind of accident or just disappear? She could fall from some height, or drown crossing the river. Maybe they could enter the woods on some mundane task and then, poof, she’s just gone. How pathetic was Farnese when she couldn’t even bring herself to kill someone as weak as her? The woman sighed as the thoughts were making her uncomfortable.

The fire cracked then popped sending sparks into the air like fireflies. Why did Farnese untie her knowing that would displease Guts? Why did she stick up for this woman despite it taxing their relationship? Because it was the right thing to do.

Chapter 3: The Way of the Sword: Part 1

Casca’s fingers greedily scooped honey into her mouth as Serpico reattached his mat to his backpack. No one told Farnese she needed to wake up the next shift so she spent the whole night watching over the camp. The sleeping people had a childishness that set her quiet at ease but now that the morning was in full motion, fatigue laid heavily on her. The coarse fabric of Gut’s blood soaked cape hurt her hand as she tugged on it. The man stared down at her from almost half a meter height difference.

“Can...,” asked Farnese. The imposing man made her feel small again. Why did men she respect have such a terrifying hold on her? Why did she feel like filling the aching man shaped hole carved upon her soul was the scariest thing imaginable? Scarier than ghost possessed creatures or heretics or even those Godlike monsters that could shatter whole buildings and sunder reality.

“Can you teach me to fight,” squeaked out the Ex-commander.

“No,” said Guts. The cloak fell from her grip as the feeling that she held a very dangerous animal by the tail entered her thoughts.

“Pleeeeeaaseeeee,” whined Farnese so loud the rest of the camp watched her.

“I told you, figure it out on your own,” said Guts.

“I figured it out a long time ago, you’re my…” said Farnese. She paused as she fished for the right word. Calling him her destiny or saint or God or any of the other analogy that previously ran through her mind made her feel pathetic. He would see such over the top titles as a sign of her weakness. “You need to teach me, I’ve decided and that is that.” The diminutive woman crossed her arms, pouted then looked up at him. Her eyes met his and she looked away then huffed.

“Fine,” said Guts pulling the massive sword off his back, “I’ll teach you if you can land one hit.”

Farnese’s sword slid from its sheath. The blade shook in her limp wrist as it pointed towards him. The broad side of the Dragon Slayer ripped the rapier from her grip. A surprised Farnese shrieked then held up her hands.

“No fair, I wasn’t ready” said Farnese. Her wrist ached as she picked up the sword. The woman thrust as she stood but Guts parried the blow. He deflected a wild cut and simply watched a thrust that wasn’t even close to hitting him. His metal hand grabbed the ornate hand guard then ripped the blade from her. “HEEEY.”

Isidro’s hand snuck into the honey jar as a captivated Casca watched the fight. The simpleton ripped the jar away then turned towards Serpico who watched the fight, her shoulders shielding the prized food.

Guts drop the sword at Farnese’s feet. She retrieved it then tried to sneak attack him. The steel wall blocked the thrust like a battering ram knocking Farnese onto her back. Her breath squeezed out of her lungs as she rolled on the ground.

The sound of Serpico pulling his rapier caught Gut’s attention.

“That was uncalled for,” said Serpico. The honey jar hit the dirt as Casca was upon him in a moment. The simpleton cooed banging on his metal chest plate with her hands. The man recoiled from the much smaller woman, then looked away. His eye met with Farnese recovering her breath on the ground.

“Go make yourself useful,” said Guts walking away from the campfire. Casca knelt next to her then took her head into her arms. Her coo had something like pity hidden within the long, sweet syllable. Her hands caressed Farnese’s hair and she felt a little better about the humiliating loss.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Farnese didn’t know what to expect from her adventure with the mysterious Black Swordsman: epic battles with monsters, missions fraught with unwinnable odds, something to do with the fate of the universe, perhaps. However, she did not expect there to be so much walking in silence along uninspired and tedious country highways. Empty pastureland with its flat grassland stretched as far as she could see in every direction. Guts walked down the road in silence as Isidro followed him like a miniature shadow. Serpico walked beside Farnese with a permanent scowl screwed upon his face. Casca never really focused on anything in particular like a child but turned every once in a while to coo as if saying “What lovely weather,” before she would turn around again. Puck would, on occasion, say something strange to Isidro and they would chase each other.

The simpleton lagged behind Farnese in her distraction only to undo the backpack’s binding before rummaging through her things.

“Hey, quit it,” said Farnese pulling her bag around her body. A surprised Casca looked at her sideways then moved to her front and resumed pillaging. “Stop it this instant. I’m already cross with you for eating my honey.” The simpleton didn’t listen but instead pulled out an apple then ran away.

“Where are we going,” asked Farnese. The heavy bag returned to her back as Casca devoured the fruit.

“We’re heading West to the Great Sea to find a boat to Puck’s homeland,” said Guts. What would the land of the faeries know of humans? This seemed like an act of desperation and a waste of time.

“As a Herald at Arms, I poured over maps,” said Serpico, “The closest port town isn’t West but South.” Farnese only had a vague idea of their mission from the scattered bits of conversation she overheard from Isidro, Puck and Guts. The Black Swordsman was a mercenary. A person named Griffith was something special to Guts, and perhaps pre-simpleton Casca. He sacrificed them to become that being born at Albion. But what was he? Why was this happening to them? The universe seemed but a cruel joke if it could elevate one so high by sacrificing those around him.

“Who was Griffith,” asked Farnese. Guts perked up like a dog hearing an intruder and looked straight ahead.

“A friend from a long time ago,” said Guts.

“He doesn’t seem like a friend,” said Serpico.

“In the life of a Mercenary, no one really has friends,” said Guts.

“What did he do to you,” asked Farnese, “And what does he have to do with those creatures that visited you with Theresia? and what was that thing you called Zodd? and the Skeleton Knight? And why do those creatures attack you all the time? And what happened to Casca…”

“You ask too many questions,” interrupted Guts.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The pastureland gave way to a forest as the party traveled further west. Birds chirped in the canopies as the mid day sun ducked behind the tree line, shading them and dropping the temperature. They hit a bridge and left the path north to set up camp further up the woodlands. The river gave the woods a stagnant smell that quite reminded Farnese of the river above the Vandimion compound.

Farnese drew her rapier and Guts sighed.

“I challenge you to combat,” said Farnese. She tried to imagine her arms as steel but the blade shook anyway. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply then out again before opening them to find that Guts hadn’t even drawn his sword. “If you won’t engage then train me.”

“What are you waiting for,” said Guts. Farnese ran at the Black Swordsman, arm cocked back. The gap closed then she thrust, assured to hit at such a close range. A fluid quickdraw disarmed her while turning her momentum against her. The blade flew into a tree as she covered her face with her arms before flying into a bush.

“M’Lady,” said Serpico. Guts sat against a tree by the time Farnese disentangled herself from the brambles and crawled out backwards, humiliated.

“I’m going to get firewood, brute,” said Farnese. She stormed away from the camp followed by Casca as Serpico retrieved her blade. Once out of sight, Farnese slumped down a tree then buried her head into her knees.

“What is he to you,” asked Farnese. The simpleton cooed. “If you are no longer interested in being with Guts, I would like to give it a try.” The woman just smiled standing over her. “I wish I had known you before you were like this. You must have been quite the woman to have imprinted yourself so strongly on Guts. I could have learned a lot from you. I never had a girlfriend. Even now knowing that you cannot talk back, I do not know what to say. You would have probably laughed at me, or thought me foolish. Would you also thought me hopeless?” Casca cooed like a bird then pet her on the head. Was Farnese just imaging it or did the pitiful girl actually have some level of recognition buried within her? “Do you love him?” The woman walked off and Farnese scrambled to her feet.

“A-ha,” said Farnese, “you do!” She bent down to pick up a fallen branch then handed it to Casca. Casca didn’t know what to do with the wood so she banged it into a tree. “But if you love him then why do you treat him so?” Farnese collected wood as they talked. “If I were in your position, I wouldn’t be so cold to him. I would embrace him when he wants to be embraced. Comfort him when he seeks solace. You shouldn’t hit him so, he doesn’t like it.” Farnese carried her arm full of branches back towards the camp.

“Let’s go,” she said to Casca. The simpleton dragged the stick then dropped it. Despite the humiliation of her attempts to spar with Guts, Farnese felt happy. Her conversation with Casca relieved some of the doubt and dread she felt over their situation. Serpico nursed a small flame within a small stick pile. The wood load dropped next to him and his gaze shot to Farnese. The fire grew into a steady flame. Serpico brought a small cauldron from his backpack to the river before returning with water. He built a tripod using sticks and twine then set the cauldron over the flame.

“Can I help,” asked Farnese. Serpico waved her off as he removed some carrots, a knife and a small piece of wood from his backpack. “I’ll help.” The bodyguard looked up at her. Her poster straightened as she looked down at him then he relented. The heavy knife blade easily cut the first carrot in half. Water splashed out as the pieces fell into the pot.

“M’Lady,” said Serpico, “you can’t put them in so large, they will not cook right.” The knife blade minced the second carrot almost to a relish then the paste plopped into the pot. “M’lady…”

“What,” interrupted Farnese, “now some are small and some are large. It will even out.” Isidro handed Farnese a dead rabbit. The corpse dropped to the ground as the startled Farnese fell backwards. The boy laughed then walked off.

“I’ll worry about this,” said Serpico. He took the knife and rabbit then cut into the skin. With the skill of a master chef, Serpico field dressed the rabbit then carved out the meat. She dug his small spice collection out of his backpack. The whole contents of a salt jar dumped into the pot. The distracted Serpico didn’t seem to notice so she repeated the process with the pepper, only dumping in half the jar as she was not that fond of pepper. The page boy looked at the black mass floating on the surface, spooned out most of it then stirred the carrots, rabbit, spices and water. The soup was not very hearty and seemed to be missing something. Farnese found a small bag of figs at the bottom of her backpack.

“What are you…,” asked Serpico. The thick figs splashed into the water getting his shirt wet.

“Is it done yet,” asked Farnese. Casca rummaged through the bag as Farnese stared at the calm water.

“These things take time,” said Serpico. The water boiled and the impatient Farnese exclaimed that dinner was served. Serpico ladled the soup into each person’s container.

“Bottoms up,” said Isidro taking a heaping spoonful into his mouth. His eyes grew wide then he spit the soup into the fire and gagged. “My god… Salt… so salty…” Gut’s lip curled as he took a sip from his spoon. Casca smelled her bowl then dropped it on the ground without eating.

“Is it really that bad,” asked Farnese. Serpico smiled at her with his big, charming smile and didn’t move. Her companion wouldn’t eat the soup and she knew it was lost. “You all are like little children.” A monster spoonful entered her mouth. The overpowering salt caused her throat to tighten. Her tongue burned and she couldn’t quite bring herself to swallow before the food vacated her mouth. Isidro dropped the contents of his bowl onto the ground.

“I’ll find another rabbit,” said the boy. Serpico used a spare cloth to take the cauldron from the tripod.

“Fine,” said Farnese. She fished out a fig and tried to eat the salty, peppery sweet lump but couldn’t manage it. “I’m going to sleep.” Her bowl sat full by the fire as she curled up next to Casca by a tree. The simpleton let the commander use her lap as a pillow but she couldn’t sleep. Despite the thirty six hours straight of being awake, despite the hunger in her belly and the strong buzz of fatigue in her body she just couldn’t sleep. The shame and anger of her failed attempt to cook kept her mind occupied and her spirit restless. How could she screw up something so simple? The soup had six ingredients, two of which she didn’t have to do anything with yet she butchered it.

As she laid thinking about her failures with the sword and spoon, the two men returned to the camp. Isidro whistled a happy tune.

“Count’em, two baby,” said Isidro. The cauldron clinked onto the tripod again as Farnese laid perfectly still on Casca. How could she be so utterly useless? She couldn’t even do such basic things. No wonder the Holy Iron Chain Knights treated her with such contempt. That was nothing less than she deserved. How many of their lives would have been spared if she knew what she was doing? A good commander wouldn’t have given up two years chasing a fairy tale only to lead a thousand men to their deaths and for what? Because she had day dreams of saving the world from something she didn’t understand? As though the force of her imagination could bring to heel the machinations of the universe. What a foolish, childish way to think. Maybe she was still a foolish child.

“I wish you would reconsider teaching Farnese,” said Serpico. Fur ripped from a rabbit’s body. The yellowness pressing her eyelids grew ever so dimmer and she could hear the distant chirping of crickets. Night was setting in and not a moment too soon. She couldn’t stand being so alone with her thoughts.

“You’re good with the sword, why don’t you teach her,” said Guts. Her heart raced.

“Quite,” said Serpico. Casca’s thin fingers ran through her hair and her heart calmed. Before she knew it her whole body grew lax and fatigue finally pulled her into sleep.

One and Two… One and Two… The cadence broke Farnese from her slumber. Her backpack replaced the simpleton as her pillow. Bright daylight already illuminated the forest. Serpico stirred a boiling cauldron as Casca tried sticking her hand into the pot only for a wooden spoon to wack it. The simpleton showed Farnese the perfectly normal back of her hand. Farnese kissed it then Casca held it against her chest and huffed at the cook.

“Again,” said Guts. The Black Swordsman stood over Isidro as he swung the sword downward over his head before returning the blade.

“One and two,” said Guts as the blade swung and returned. “Keep your feet set, toes pointed ahead. Now again.” Isidro swung his blade again and again. Farnese jumped to her feet and withdrew her blade. Her body knocked Isidro out of his stance as she took position next to him. The teen turned to look at her.

“Eye’s ahead,” said Guts, “and again.” The boy brought the sword down. “Breath, you forget to breath in a fight, you get dizzy then dead.” Farnese brought her sword down but couldn’t match the speed of his cadence. The blade pulled her forward when she tried and she lost her foot work.

“What’re you doing,” asked Guts. The Ex-Commander reset her position.

“Joining,” said Farnese, “Slow down, this speed is vexing.”

“I’m not training you,” said Guts. “Pick it up.” Isidro brought the blade down faster. Strain contorted his red face.

“Why not,” asked Farnese. She assumed her discipline stance but found it inconceivably hard to look down upon a man who towered so far over her.

“You’re weak, uncoordinated and lack the will power. It’d be a waste’a my time,” said Guts.

“You don’t want to help me because I’m a girl,” said Farnese.

“It has nothing to do with that. Casca’s one of the best swordsmen I know, only behind me and Griffith. Her will power, battle sense, hard work. She could see things on the battlefield like no one else. You’ve none of these things. A limp wristed noble who’s never worked a hard day in her life. All pomp and temper and arrogance. Things that’ll get you killed.”

Farnese charged the big man. Her blade flew down in an exaggerated overhead strike. The broad dragon slayer parried the blow. Her feet tangled then her momentum carried her into the ground.

“Get yourself killed, for all I care,” said Guts, “but weak people like you, chargin’ into the fray, you get others killed. If you wanna do somethin’, give Casca a bath.”

“Ohhhh,” exclaimed Isidro. Gut’s real hand punched the back of the boy’s head and he yelped.

“Stay focused,” said Guts. The boy chopped harder and faster.

“Yes, sir,” said Isidro. Farnese’s palms bleed from thin red lines. A fine powder like crystalized sunshine sprinkled onto her hands from Puck’s wings. The lines lightened then disappeared leaving only the blood.

“Better than Neosporin,” said the Elf before flying away. The woman retrieved a soap bar, rag and hair brush from her travel bag then dragged the simpleton from the camp.

“Lets go, stupid,” said Farnese. The much stronger woman ripped her hand from Farnese’s grip then followed her. “Why must a useless wretch like you always get in the way of me doing more important work? Feed her, watch her, take her to pee, give her a bath. What am I, your nanny? Are you my pet? I could be doing anything else! Learning to cook, gathering food. Carrying bags would do more for me!”

Casca cooed then pet the woman’s head.

“Uggggg,” exclaimed Farnese. The river ran so slowly she would have thought it a stagnant puddle if not for it’s length. She undressed then helped Casca out of her robe. The freezing water bit into her ankles as she waded towards the center. Casca jumped in splashing Farnese with an icy chill.

“Ahhhh,” screamed Farnese. A wave splashed into the laughing Casca and she shrieked. The soap lathered rag ran over Casca’s hard body. Thin scar lines brushed her skin. A puncture wound tore a flesh chunk from her shoulder. What had this poor woman been through? She ran a finger over a bullet hole then had a vision of Casca fighting alongside Guts. This Casca’s eyes were hard and full of life. This Casca parried the blow of a man twice her size then drove the sword into his throat. This Casca moved like a ballerina on the battlefield. This Casca had grace and strength and purpose that made her formidable.

How many years had it been since Casca lost her mind yet her body rippled with muscles. The soap covered rag cleaned off the woman’s six pack abs. Farnese’s finger ran over the line between her abs and she giggled. Despite her strength, the simpleton had a gentleness about her that put Farnese at ease and she hated that about the woman. She was, after all, the wall that blocked the entrance into the Black Swordsman’s heart. He would never take her seriously so long as he viewed her as his lover’s caretaker.

“It’s time to clean your hair,” said Farnese. “Kneel.” The woman looked at Farnese not understanding the words. Farnese saw something strange, as though her face said I trust you. I give myself over to you. What a foolish thing for her to see in a woman who clearly understood nothing. Farnese took the woman’s hands then used her foot to collapse the back of her knees. The water rose to the kneeling woman’s waist. “Down you go.”

The simpleton’s torso bent backwards until her head completely submerged. Bubbles gurgled from her mouth. She stared up at Farnese in a wide eyed curiosity. Farnese’s hands massaged her hair and scalp. How long could she breath under water? How easily could she remove this woman’s beauty and her past with the Black Swordsman?

Casca’s eyes grew wide as the bubbles stopped coming from her mouth. Farnese held her underwater by the hair. Maybe he would be grateful that she removed such a burden? Guts may be a man that needs someone like Casca to protect. If she destroys the most useless thing around he might latch on to the next most useless thing, herself. The panicked woman didn’t fight against Farnese’s hold. Despite her unnatural strength she did not resist. The woman was going to drown trusting a pathetic, useless creature like Farnese. This would have been so much easier if Casca resisted. Had the woman thrashed or fought for her life then Farnese would have easily held her under water. But she did not and the guilt became overwhelming. For a second the woman looked like a child staring up in complete trust as her mother did the unthinkable.

Farnese pulled her out and the woman gasped. Casca’s arms wrapped Farnese and the two toppled into the water. Her skin goosepimpled in the cold. Farnese pulled the wet hair from her face in time for the first wave to hit her. Casca cooed out a laugh then splashed her again. The naked woman ran from Farnese as she splashed her. The two traded shots giggling as they took heavy strides through the knee deep water. The laughter labored her lungs so hard she got light headed.

“Enough, Enough,” pleaded Farnese. The river bank’s mud stuck to her feet as she scrambled out of the river before falling on her back trying to reign in her breath. The simpleton stood over her staring in her face. Once Farnese made eye contact again the women squealed in delight then jumped into the water.

A sudden dread that the woman should hurt herself compelled her to sit up. The air reminded her of her nakedness so she covered herself by pulling her knees to her chest. What was she doing? This woman was nothing to her but a burden yet she couldn’t help but worry for her. Not five minutes ago did she wish the worst fate upon her but in her childishness and laughter something stirred in Farnese. Something primal yearned to take this wretched creature into her hands. The most useless person alive, the one thing standing in her way yet she couldn’t even remove it. Serpico’s words came back to her: he broke something in you. Was this strange weakness really the fruits of the first encounter she had with the Black Swordsman? Everything seemed to come back to him. When he clear cut her reality on the shore with those dogs, was this part of what grew in that exposed earth?

“We need to return,” said Farnese. The simpleton stopped throwing water in the air to look at her then resumed when she said nothing more. Grime stiffened her robe. The sour sweat odor disgusted Farnese. If she puffed out the bottom, could it stand on its own from the filth? “I guess we can stay a little while longer.” The robe soaked in water becoming a heavy dark ball. She whipped the excess water away, then soaked it again before rubbing it with soap.

“You know, I once loved as well,” said Farnese. The simpleton played as she cleaned the robe pretending that Casca listened. “He was my first friend and only companion. You’ve met him before, my Serpico. I know to you he might not seem like much but to me he was the strongest, bravest knight to ever take up service for his Lady.” She washed the soap off the robe, placed it to dry on the bank then started the process for her own clothing. “We went on adventures that would seem like trifles to you but to me it was the world. I treated him so dreadfully but he always followed me, obeyed me. I didn’t deserve him. I couldn’t do anything without him. I would have died so many times if not for him always watching out for me. He was my first crush, my first love. The receptacle in which I poured all of my hopes and desires and longing. Do you know what its like to love one who doesn’t love you back?” The simpleton followed a small fish swimming away from her. The woman cooed then chased it on foot. The sigh passed Farnese’s lips loudly enough to break the woman from her hunt. “To him I am a friend, and maybe one day that will be enough.”

She watched the woman play until long after the clothing dried. The clean clothes felt smooth and soft against her skin. The once itchy underwear and brassier laid comfortably in place. She had forgotten that clothing could be so comfortable. The pants and layered shirts warmed the aching chill from spending so much time naked in the cold. Casca came to investigate Farnese’s exclamations of joy and the ex-Commander used the opportunity to pounce on her. She pulled the robe over her head and dragged her back towards the camp. Farnese felt like a new woman. She enjoyed having a woman friend even if the relationship only went one way. In a way, that was the perfect friendship for someone like her. She held power over Serpico. Her love only flowed towards her parents. Everything in her life seemed rigid and hierarchical. Why would she expect anything less from this relationship? The negative thoughts pulled down Farnese so she was already sad by the time they found an impatient Guts pacing around the dismantled camp. Isidro swung his sword over his head, a blankness screwed up his anguished face.

“What took so long,” said Guts. Isidro fell to his knees.

“Ugggg, finally,” said Isidro, “I thought my arms were gonna fall off.”

“I... we...,” said Farnese. Guts’ intense eye looked down at her and she felt so small again. He wouldn’t care about their bath or talk or cleaning their clothes. The imposing man was disappointed and that disappointment weighed on her shoulders like a yoke. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s go,” said Guts. Farnese hung her head as she walked away. Isidro stood with a dramatic groan then grabbed his bag. Serpico handed her a bag.

“Is everything well,” asked Serpico. The bodyguard put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s not too late to return home…” Farnese huffed then pulled from his grip. She aggressively took Casca’s hand and followed behind Guts.

“This is the way,” said Serpico. Guts turned as he jogged past. “This is the road.” Serpico took a fork just after the bridge and the party followed.

The small country highway cut through the woods until it spit them onto more pastureland as the river bent west. Guts looked back as they took the fork south. A reflex to make sure Casca still followed them whenever he did something unexpected. His eye looked past Farnese as though she wasn’t there. The hand she held felt heavy and cold as she remembered their rivalry. Farnese dropped it and the simpleton carried on walking. Another sad thought dampened her already worsening mood: the woman didn’t notice.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The sticks laid so plentifully that Farnese would be done with her chores in a matter of minutes. A heavy burden already filled her arms as Serpico gathered his own pile.

“Do you think Casca will get better,” asked Farnese. Serpico looked at her through his squinted eyes as he bent down for another branch.

“I don’t know, M’lady,” said Serpico, “our one chance is to sail into the vast uncharted sea to find the mythical land of the Elves. My hopes are not high.”

“My hopes,” said Farnese before trailing off. She didn’t know how to complete the thought as conflicting desires raged within her. She wished to see Casca get better as she believed they had a connection that would only flourish once she was freed from her metal cage. Another part recognized the threat an awakened Casca represented for her prospects with Guts. Once she was able to take care of herself, would Guts need her anymore? She had proven useless to most tasks except babysitting the invalid woman. Her other skills needed to improve before Casca returned. She needed to ingrain herself so thoroughly in the operations of Gut’s life that he couldn’t fathom a world where Farnese wasn’t by his side. “I hope Gut’s still needs me when she returns.”

Serpico alerted to something rustling in the bushes. The wood stack in his arms fell as he drew his sword. A small red fox not much larger than a cat emerged from the woods, saw Serpico then took off into the brush.

“Meat,” said Serpico as he chased the small animal. Farnese gathered his pile and soon couldn’t use her arms for much but holding the stack of wood. She lumbered back to the camp with her burning arms carrying the heavy burden. Bright orange mushrooms dotted the base of a half rotten oak tree just outside their camp. Farnese placed the wood heap by the smoldering camp fire, fed some into the embers then returned to the tree. The mushrooms smelled fine. They looked just like the ones Serpico picked and added to their soup. The tree, although unappealing to the eye, had a bountiful harvest of acorns strewn about its base. Her bag bulged with all the food she gathered.

Farnese removed the cooking cauldron and water sack from Serpico’s travel bag then set the cauldron upon a tripod in the fire. She laid out the mushrooms in a line, inspecting each as though they were diamonds. Serpico would be so proud of her when he saw her initiative. The water slowly bubbled and it was time to add the mushrooms and acorns. The shear volume of mushrooms overburdened the water so she left many to dry in the sun. Steam wafted from the cauldron top smelling like a rich broth.

“What’cha doin’,” asked Isidro.

“Making dinner,” said Farnese.

“Ain’t that your maid’s job,” asked Isidro. The boy picked up a mushroom and Farnese smacked his hand. The boy dropped it.

“He’s not my maid and don’t ruin your appetite,” said Farnese. Guts and Casca emerged from the woods. “Guts! Dinner will be ready once Serpico returns with the fox.” Isidro turned his back on Farnese giggling but she chose to ignore the fool. Serpico emerged from the woods carrying the dead fox by its legs. “Give it here.” Her hand reached out for the animal and Serpico accommodated. The furry body barely had any meat on it. Blood oozed from a wound on its head. The corpse reeked so strongly of death she could taste it. Serpico picked up a mushroom.

“Ahhhhh,” yelled Isidro. The boy fell to the ground trembling. His pupils dilated to the size of tea saucers as he rolled around.

“M’lady these...,” said Serpico.

“Mushrooms, I found them earlier,” interrupted Farnese. The bodyguard held the mushroom close to his squinting eyes.

“These are poisonous, you cannot eat them,” said Serpico. Farnese stood from the fire. The ladle grew so heavy she thought it would drag her down. “This one’s a waraitake.”

“Is that so,” asked Farnese. Isidro went slack then moaned. Guts laughed from the camp’s edge.

“I am back, let me finish,” said Serpico. Farnese jammed the ladle into him, stormed over to her bag, sat, and pulled her knees to her chest resting her face on her legs. She felt so small. Nothing she did was ever right and in that moment she just wanted to give up.

Chapter 4: The Way of the Sword Part 2

The roaring fire’s light created a dome around the camp. A small hill led down to stagnant bogs reeking of sulpher. A fallen tree blocked the path behind the fire while Serpico, Guts, and Isidro fanned out in a half circle around the front. Shuffling came from the blackness outside the dome as Casca moaned.

“Keep the fire going,” said Guts. The brand bled down his neck as the shuffling grew louder. The darkness concealed the approaching monsters.

“Sacrifice,” hissed over Farnese’s head. Ghost worms crawled just outside the light. “Flesh, Woman, eat…” Almost every night they were attacked by these creatures and every night the strange noises paralyzed her. Her arms hugged sticks to her chest to quell the roiling fear. The bog water slashed. Tree branches broke in the distance.

“Lady Farnese,” called Serpico, “please do not let that fire die!”

“I know that,” said Farnese. Her job was the same every night: hang around the back to protect Casca and the fire. Every night he reminded her like she was a child; He would do it for her if he could. Branches snapped behind the fallen tree. Casca cooed then walked towards the noise. The sticks shifted to one arm so Farnese could grab the woman’s cloak with her free hand.

“No, Casca,” said Farnese, “you mustn’t wander around!” The simpleton groaned as Farnese pulled her back to the fire.

“Here they come,” yelled Guts. Moss covered men hung with seaweed stumbled up the hill towards the party.

“They’re comin’ out, Isidro,” said Puck. The elf emitted light revealing a moss covered zombie ambling out of the bog. Long green leaves covered its rotten flesh like strange hair. It groaned then reached for the young boy.

“I got it,” yelled Isidro as he grabbed a flaming stick with both hands.

“Bring it on, bog zombies,” yelled the boy. He swung the flaming stick in an overhead strike. The wet corpse hissed then stumbled backwards. “Shit, it didn’t work.”

Serpico’s torch jammed into a zombie, hissed and went out. He jumped backwards as the creature swiped at him. The monster lost its footing and went down on the hillside. The bodyguard looked at his torch then scratched his cheek with one finger.

“Oh dear,” said Serpico. The stick flew into another’s head, knocking it off its feet. The corpse fell backwards down the hill. Serpico drew his rapier and Isidro followed with his short sword. Farnese dropped another load onto the fire. The men hacked at the zombies long into the night as Farnese fed wood into the fire’s insatiable maw.

The wet zombies got back up regardless of the damage inflicted upon them. The night grew old and the struggle would persist until morning’s light banished them. Her muscles ached just from feeding the fire; she could only imagine how much pain the others must have felt.

A groan came from the fallen tree where a zombie reached for Casca. The simpleton shrieked then ducked behind Farnese.

“It can’t get us,” said Farnese. “Don’t you worry.” Her words didn’t sooth the panicked woman. The zombie hoard was mostly hacked to pieces as they awaited dawn to finish them off. Farnese drew her sword then approached the trapped monster. The blade wobbled as she threw an uncoordinated thrust that missed its head.

“Grrrrrrnnnnnnnn,” moaned the zombie. The creature’s hand swung at the sword as Farnese moved closer trying to get a clean hit. The zombie dove over the fallen tree. Farnese’s feet tangled as she fell over backwards. The monster crawled to her. It’s iron grip sent shocks of pain into her thigh. Rotten teeth swung towards her leg. Serpico’s blade stopped it inches from digging into her flesh. The monster twitched until his boot sent it into the fire. The wet zombie hissed and popped as the flame took over its putrid flesh.

Morning light broke through the tree line and finally the zombie hoard rejoined death. Farnese caught her breath only to realize the whole party watched her squirm. She collected her sword then stood, the victim of her own meekness once more.

“That’s why it would be a wast’a time to train you,” said Guts, “you don’t have the instincts.”

“Why did you save me, then,” yelled Farnese. The guilt and shame of her own uselessness boiled over into rage. “If I’m so worthless… If I can’t help you, then why…”

“I didn’t save you,” said Guts. The Black Swordsman kicked a corpse down the hill. “You were too weak to be a threat and, unlike you, I don’t get off killing the weak.”

“How dare you, you cruel...” said Farnese, “mean… and stupid…” The words choked from her throat. The injustice of wild accusations couldn’t hurt as much as the truth. Her heart pounded as the words got lost in the over whelming self loathing. How much longer could she endure this humiliation?

“Nnnnnn,” said Casca as she came upon Guts. The Black Swordsman stepped backwards as she pounded his chest with her palms. Guts grabbed for her wrist but couldn’t stop the onslaught knocking him backwards.

“Crazy broads, always ganging up on me,” said Guts. He retreated to the log behind the fire and slumped down to sleep. Casca’s arms wrapped around Farnese. Being saved and comforted by someone like Casca made her feel worse.

The rest of the party fell asleep while Farnese watched the smoke rise from the dying fire. Despite being up all night and the fatigue that normally followed her heightened state of stress, she just couldn’t sleep. Casca curled up at her feet. The woman’s soft hair ran through Farnese’s fingers as she pet her head. She needed to find a way to make herself useful. Just getting by was no longer an option. If she didn’t find a way to contribute to the group then the group would eventually expel her. Dirt speckled Casca’s robe and she thought of how good clean clothing felt. She collected the spare clothing from everyone’s bags. Puck floated up to her.

“Whatcha doin,” said the Elf. The woman held the smelly clothing close to her chest as she retrieved her soap.

“Laundry,” said Farnese. The elf followed her through the woods towards the lake at the bog’s center.

“You know how,” asked the Elf. The slack jawed creature with the chestnut head looked like he was sleep flying.

“I’ve done it before,” said Farnese. She knelt on the rocky bank then dropped the clothing pile. Dried blood stains spotted Isidro’s moth eaten shirt. The coarse, hole filled fabric could barely be called a shirt anymore. Maybe she would buy him new clothes the next time they were in town. Having to wear such a rag must have been degrading. The shirt stayed underwater until the cloth turned dark. The blood stains remained regardless of how hard the soap rubbed.

“Ahhhh,” said Casca as she ran past Farnese then dove into the water fully dressed. The simpleton splashed Farnese, an invitation to play, but she ignored her. The soap rubbed off in white streaks yet the stains remained.

“Huh,” said Farnese holding the shirt up to the light.

“You need to rub out the stains,” said Puck, “since you don’t have a machine use a rock.” The fairy boy pointed at her feet. Farnese placed the shirt on a rock then rubbed the stain with the soap. “Harder.” The soap pressed so hard she thought it would break. “Harder.” Her wrist strained as she ground the soap into the shirt. “Harder.”

“R-right,” said Farnese. She grabbed the shirt with two hands and ground it against the rock. The weak fabric strained against the pressure.

“That’s the way,” said Puck, “Rub it hard against the rock.”

“M’lady,” called Serpico. A shirtless Serpico walked towards the lake next to a similarly dressed Isidro. “Have you seen…”

“My Shirt,” exclaimed Isidro. The boy ripped it from Farnese’s hands with such force she almost tumbled into the water. Newly formed holes dotted the frayed fabric. He unfurled it to reveal a massive hole in the chest. “AGGHHHH! MY BEST SHIRT!”

Serpico picked the next garment off the pile as Farnese stood to watch the distressed boy.

“I will do the rest,” said Serpico as he took the soap from her hand. Casca splashed the boy standing with his mouth open and arms stretched out like a strange statue.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A corpse ambled out of the darkness, its armor green and brown with rust. A duel wielding Isidro hit it’s decaying hauberk with a torch and the ancient cloth burst into flames. A black liquid bubbled out of its mouth as it reached for the sky in a mock scream. The blackness popped with a groan then the corpse fell into a burning lump.

Three zombies walked side by side leveling spears at Guts. His giant sword severed the rotten shafts then another massive swing cut the corpses in two as blackness oozed from the wounds like blood.

Serpico’s torch burnt another zombie coming from behind the fire. Casca trembled on the ground covering her head as a hoard surrounded them.

For Guts to train her, she needed to get recognized. To get recognized, she needed to get strong. But to get strong, she needed Guts to train her. The man would never want to train her if all she did was feed branches into the fire. The three men can’t stave off such a large host coming from so many directions. Now was the time for Farnese to prove her worth.

Three corpses came upon the teen boy as Farnese pulled a branch from the fire. The boy swung one flaming branch and the zombie stumbled away. The other torch connected and another creature squealed, burst into flames and ran towards the woods. Serpico rushed the third corpse. Farnese swung her branch wildly trying to beat him to the kill.Serpico’s body hit the ground as the torch flew over his head landing on Isidro’s pants. The teen yelped, dropped his torches and patted his butt to put out the fire. A throwing knife embedded into the third Zombie’s head then the Dragon Slayer cut the second zombie in half as it marched forward again.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING,” snarled Guts. “Forget it, you just concentrate on Casca and the fire.” The torch fell as she covered her eyes with her hands. Another failure. Another disappointment.

“Hnnnn, Hnnnnn,” said Farnese. Her breathing grew erratic. The tension stretched her mind into a pounding ache that felt like it would snap at any minute. “I… I… I…” It was no use, the men were already beating back the next zombie wave. Casca wrapped her in her arms.

“I hate you… I hate you so much,” she whispered unsure of whether she was talking to Guts, Casca or herself.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The leaf pile grew large as Farnese slowly gathered sticks, her heart not in the menial task she had done dozens of times since joining the Black Swordsman. A hand full of leaves dropped on to the pile as Casca mouthed a whooshing noise watching them fall.

Farnese’s truly useless and it’s laughable. She was prepared for that realization but being exposed to terror every night made her realize how diminutive was her existence. That she couldn’t actually do anything in her mundane daily life. Even as she became used to the grotesqueness that she saw now, her value did naught but shrink. She didn’t think she could suddenly make believe that she was a maidservant but all she can do is gather firewood and babysit. That night when the Black Swordsman was the only thing in existence with the power to defeat the darkness that always threatened to consumer her, she was confident that as long as she went with him something insider her would change dramatically. How foolish and naive she was. Nothing changes simply from desire, especially for a wretched useless creature like her.

The woman put her meager collection down.

“That looks like fun, may I,” asked Farnese. The simpleton beamed as she knelt by the pile. An arm full of leaves flew in the air and suddenly she was in a blizzard. The woman’s happiness made Farnese smile. They were so much alike that it pained her. Was the pitiable way she looked down on Casca the same way everyone else saw Farnese? The simpleton. The burden. The child that needed constant care. Did Serpico see himself as her babysitter? No, she was worse. Casca was innocent. She didn’t strive to hurt anyone. She didn’t murder the weak to elevate herself.

The simpleton’s eyes that looked so endearingly at her were wide with terror in that torture room. Farnese saw the pointlessness in her destruction yet didn’t do a thing to stop it. Where others in the most wretched and deplorable conditions saw someone to protect, she looked down from the height of pleasure and excess to see another pawn in her games: nothing more than bait to capture her prize. Wanting to decorate herself majestically and oppress another was understandable under such conditions. Still she tried to justify her treatment; she was so small. Even now she tried to drown the woman once she became a burden. Yet the Black Swordsman protected her every night with his life. Farnese took the woman’s hand and her childish wonder turned into a serious stare.

“I did some terribly cruel things to you,” said Farnese, “I apologize.” The simpleton pulled Farnese into her chest then ran her fingers through her hair. As the words rolled off her lips, something felt wrong with her apology, more like she was apologizing to herself than to Casca.

A rabbit peaked out of a crevice between two boulders then hopped towards them. Farnese stood; even if she was useless and unable to carry her weight, at least she would catch dinner.

“Casca, please wait here a minute,” said Farnese. The rabbit hopped towards her. She stood still waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The rabbit nibbled, alerted to her presence then calmed again. Her breath turned light and quick as she concentrated on hiding her presence, as though she could become invisible if she just willed it enough. The rabbit calmed again then moved a little closer. She dove; her hand barely missed it’s hind legs as it bolted towards the rocks. Farnese scurried after it on hands and knees as it disappeared into the hole. Her arm disappeared all the way to her shoulder yet nothing was there. The gap led to the forest but the rabbit sped into the underbrush. A large cache of wood laid on the ground.

“At least it wasn’t a total loss,” said Farnese. Casca stood a stick in the middle of the leaf pile turning her hoard into a miniature fort. Farnese climbed over the rocks then collected the sticks until her arms were full. Evening twilight already dampened the woods. They needed to hurry to camp for the terror that hectored them like a hungry beast would soon be upon them.

“Ok, let’s return Casca,” said Farnese as she struggled over the rocks. The leaf pile laid abandoned. “CASCA!” In a brief moment of distraction, Farnese failed to do the one thing the group depended on her for. She ran up the path towards the camp. “CASCA!” Casca was her responsibility, she needed to return with her. The Ex-commander ran down the winding path. The path forked and she didn’t know where to go. Her thoughts fogged with panic so she just took a way.

“CASCA,” she yelled. She didn’t care where she ran so long as she found the woman. This failure was too much. The useless caretaker who complained about the triviality of her duties yet couldn’t even handle them. Casca deserved better than her.

The woods grew strange and unfamiliar as she rushed in her panic. Despite the crippling fear, despite the overwhelming desire to just shut down, Farnese pressed on. Her legs defied her desire to walk but she pushed them forward. Her head swam yet she ignored the pain and panic and frantic breathing.

The woman was no where to be found. Darkness bore down on her as though she fell into an abyss looming with black silhouettes. Trees stood like shadow giants. She had never seen a blackness so terrifyingly complete. A wolf howled in the distance as another much closer responded. What would she do if the chaos of the night found her? The sword on her hip might as well have been gone for as well as she could use it. A large gap under a half fallen tree provided a defensive position where she would only have to protect her front. The woman crawled under the roots and drew her rapier.

“CASCA, SERPICO, SOMEONE,” she screamed into the night like that terrified little girl tucked in her blankets. She could no longer move, just cower, cower and feel small. Casca can’t survive overnight alone, she’ll die and it will all be her fault. Guts will banish her or maybe even kill her.

But isn’t that what she wanted all along whispered a voice in her head, to be free of that burden... She didn’t want that, not really. Casca was the closest thing she had to a girlfriend. Her desire for Guts was a foolish one, a naive one. He wasn’t the magic answer she always fantasized. Even he couldn’t fix someone like her. You speak of desire said the voice. A woman’s head appeared over her shoulder. Blood dripped from her smiling lips. A putrid breath reeking of death escaped between fang like teeth. Black void eyes looked through her.

“You are nothing but desire,” said the ghoul, “deep, dark untapped desire you can’t even comprehend. The simpleton isn’t the burden you wish to end.”

“That’s not true,” said Farnese, “you’re a liar.”

“I am the only part of you that is honest,” said the ghoul. “The lust you feel for misery, the burning want for pain. The raging self hatred that desires above all to make everything suffer like you do. This is why you kill. This is why you murder. Monster.” Farnese closed her eyes, pushed her face into the dirt and held the back of her head.

“No,” she screamed.

“You’re pathetic, you’re weak,” said the ghoul.

She was weak, so weak. Yet in her weakness she found something weaker than herself. Someone who needed Farnese more than she needed her. She wanted Casca to live and get better even if that meant losing any chance she had with the Black Swordsman. And in that moment, as the darkness within her bared its horrible fangs dripping with blood, she had a revelation. Strength wasn’t physical prowess or destroying evil. It didn’t come from Glory on the battlefield. She didn’t need to become a better storm to strip the world of it’s terror. Power didn’t flow from authority or fear or violence. Real power came from taking something fragile into your hands and protecting it from anything that would break it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Light crept into the tree’s nook. Farnese’s eyes buried into her forearm as though smothering the light could permanently stall the reckoning that would come. Casca was gone and it was all her fault. Guts would hate her and most likely abandon her. Reeking of defeat, she would seek the comfort of Serpico’s embrace like an addict sought her drug.

“Oh, found her,” said Puck. The naked elf boy floated at the nook’s entrance. Her hand blocked the sudden onslaught of daylight.

“Lady Farnese,” called Serpico.

“Yo, blondie,” yelled Isidro. The teen boy and her friend walked towards the tree nook as she cowered away. With no where to hide, the woman trembled in place.

“M’lady,” said Serpico. Serpico knelt as Isidro leaned on the tree over her. “Lady Farnese, you’re safe. Can you stand?” He pulled her to her feet. Her knees screamed from the discomfort of changing positions. Her back ached. After spending the night ruminating on her own uselessness, emerging from the cavity felt like a strange kind of birth. Farnese, adventure seeking commander, great heretic hunter, and the Vandimion Devil Child, turned into this living corpse: the woman who truly could not do a single thing right. No matter how menial the task, no matter how simple the deed, she just just couldn’t do it.

“Geez, talk about careless,” said Isidro. Her eyes cast down at her feet. Someone like her deserved to be lectured by a child. “Last night was no picnic. Even Serpico ran off to look for you. Thanks to that, it was just me and Guts strugglin’ to protect Casca.”

“Casca,” said Farnese, “is Casca all right?!?” Casca peeked around Isidro.

“Ohh,” said Casca. Farnese’s embrace knocked the woman back.

“More or Less,” said Isidro, “Alive and Kickin’. Hunger brought her back right before supper.” The young boy yawned then Casca followed as though mimicking him. “Sheesh, now we can finally sleep.” The Black Swordsman watched them from between two trees. His calm face betrayed neither happiness nor sadness, anger or relief. For a moment the tall man reminded her of her father and her own smallness. The giant man turned then walked away. What was he thinking? Did he fear for her safety? While he beat away the horrors of the night were his thoughts on saving her? Did she cause him pain? The thought for an instant excited her but that quickly turned to sadness and guilt. As though her own feelings crept outside of her like a contagion, the rest of her party looked sad and beaten down as well.

“Don’t cost us so much time,” said Isidro, “Whadda we do if the babysitter goes missin’?”

They followed Guts back to the camp in a silent march. The woman who was going to bring the world to heel as a testament to her own greatness was just ‘the babysitter.’ She smirked at the irony of a literal child like Isidro calling someone as childish as herself ‘the babysitter.’

Guts leaned against a tree next to a small burned out fire then pulled his cloak shut. Casca used Farnese’s travel bag as a pillow as Isidro just flopped on the ground like a fish. Serpico removed his cooking pot from a tripod over the smoldering ash heap.

“M’Lady, I’m going to get some water,” said Serpico. Her body screamed with fatigue although she slept most of the night. She followed him to a small ravine with a path leading down to a river bank. She sat on the ravine edge pulling her knees to her chest while Serpico cleaned the pot in the calm waters.

“Serpico,” said Farnese. The bodyguard looked up at her as he poured dirty water. “I am a burden.” The metal pot clanged off the ground then splashed into the river. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” stammered Serpico as he retrieved the pot. “Shall we go back to the Holy City?”

“I never said that,” said Farnese. If she went back then she would become buried again. However powerless, helpless and clumsy she may have been, she was discovering herself for the first time. Regardless of how painful the cost, how could she move forward until she learned where she was? Serpico watched her from the river bank. Her knees pulled closer to her chest realizing that he made no effort to argue. She couldn’t blame him, after all who could have a greater claim to know this than him?

“The Black Swordsman isn’t anything like I imagined,” said Farnese. “I naively expected a miracle. I only knew him as the man who stood against the darkness like a bulwark and just assumed that he was always that strong. But when the burdens of immediate survival are lifted off his shoulders, there is a whole other man. One who’s hurt and frustrated and struggling. You can tell he just wants to tear apart every problem with his hands but there are some he just can’t. It’s not fair to him that he should have to live up to my fantasy. He can’t make me like him. He could teach me his strength no more than he could lend me his height or muscle. I’ve decided, I’m no longer going to try to learn the sword. It doesn’t suit me. For now, I’ll focus on becoming a better person. I won’t ever be able to defeat something if I can’t even take care of myself.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Casca’s soft hair slid between Farnese’s fingers as she divided it into even chunks. The girls at the monastery made braiding hair look so easy yet she struggled. The hair chunks twisted together in uneven braids that didn’t look quite right so she undid them.

Isidro stepped then threw a thrust before resetting and doing it again.

“Good,” said Guts as he walked around the boy. The hair weaved into a loose clump that fell apart when she let go. Casca reached for a bag then fidgeted when Farnese held her in place. If Casca was hungry then they must be nearing dinner time already. She scanned the camp for Serpico but he must not have returned from his walk in the woods.

“We’re almost done,” said Farnese. This shouldn’t be much different than doing her own hair yet it was. She tighted the clumps then braided them. Casca shrieked then pulled the hair from her hands. “Ahg. We almost had it.” Her grasp just missed as the woman dodged her attempt to retrieve the smooth black hair. Farnese dove onto the woman and a scuffle ensued. Casca’s firm grip pinned Farnese’s wrists. Triumphant cooes mocked her as Farnese tried to pull free but couldn’t. Casca pushed her away then scuttled off.

“You’re so impossible some times,” said Farnese. Her bag’s contents poured on to the dirt. The clothes and the bathing implements flew off the pile as Casca looked for food but Farnese had run out long ago. They were back to foraging and running low on necessities again. “I’m going to find Serpico and see where our dinner is. Can you watch Casca while I’m gone?”

Gut’s waved dismissively and she took that as all the confirmation she needed. The path leaving camp wound through trees until a small clearing where a shirtless Serpico stood in the en guard position. Sweat glistened off his lean well defined body. His biceps and shoulders piston-ed with a machine like efficiency. The sword tip pierced high, medium, then low in a hypnotic, perfect cadence before tracing back up.

His feet moved forward as he lunged then backwards with a fake parry. A sudden heat came over Farnese as though she were the one working. Her arm loosely wrapped around a tree pretending it was him. She thought of the times he comforted her, held her and kept her warm. His life would have been so much better had he never met her. He was so strong. He would have found a way through the trials of his youth without her aid. She was delusional to think her treatment of him was anything more than viciousness masquerading as altruism. Her self hatred spread to him like moss on a tree until it succumbed to rot. How could someone lie to themselves with the fervency and scale with which she did? Was being born a liar in a world of lies the secret to surviving as a Vandimion?

“Ooooohhhhh,” cooed Casca as she came up behind Farnese. The woman wrapped her arm around Farnese like she had the tree. If Farnese didn’t know better she could have sworn the woman was commenting on Serpico’s body.

“I agree,” said Farnese. The two watched Serpico exercise in silence afraid that he would stop if he knew they were there.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The humid air grew hotter the further south they traveled. The highway gave way to a thin dirt road that loosely followed a river as it rolled through rocky hills. Green buds dotted the trees as wild flower stalks poked through the grass along the path’s edge. A flock of sheep scattered around the hill bleated under the watchful gaze of a shepherd sitting on a boulder. The old man put a black seed in his mouth, chewed, then spit out a shell. He stopped chewing to look up at Guts towering over him.

“Mornin’,” said Guts. The man spit a shell then popped another into his mouth.

“Mornin, stranger,” said the Shepard, “nought ever seen a feller tall as you before.” Casca poked around Guts, cooed then dove for his seed bag. “Hey, now.” He wrestled the bag from her but she already claimed a handful that she greedily sorted behind Farnese.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” said Farnese, “she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Serpico flipped the old man a silver coin, “hopefully that will cover the expense.” The man caught the coin and held it up before shoving the silver in his pocket.

“More ‘an enough,” said the man. A sheep startled when Puck landed on its head. The elf walked down its back then laid in it’s wool like a bed.

“We’re lookin’ for the nearest port,” said Guts.

“Why for,” said the Shepard. The man stood as though suddenly aware the whole party gathered around him.

“We need to take to sea,” said Guts, “and be seen by as few people as possible.”

“The nearest port town’s Roma,” said the Shepard. Roma? The second largest city in Paneria was a coastal town on the northern boarder with Midland. “but that place ain’t good for big ships.” The old man rubbed his beard then adjusted his staff.

“Yeah, if you wanna reach the sea and avoid people as much as possible, take this old highway over the mountain pass,” said the Shepherd. “Not wantin’ to be seen by people must mean you’ve got some reason.” Casca touched a sheep then bleated in imitation as black mashed up shells fell from her mouth. A startled beast looked at her and she fought to get out of Farnese’s faltering grip.

“Stop that,” said Farnese and the woman stopped pulling.

“But you all’re headed for the port of Vritannis,” said the Shepard. Farnese dropped Casca’s arm. Casca stopped fighting for the sheep as though disappointed her game ended with a forfeit. Serpico squinted as Farnese laid eyes upon him. Vritannis, the home of so much misery, made her feel sick but not as sick as the thought that this was Serpico’s plan all along. He set their course from the moment Guts said they were looking for a ship.

“Then you’d best be careful,” continued the old man. “It’s becomin’ the military base for several allied countries. Looks more and more like a big war against the Kushan’s gonna start. With the King dead and his only child, the Princess missin’, Midland has no real ruler. Even if the allied forces drive out the Kushan, the territory’ll be carved up real good. If it goes badly, the kingdom itself’ll disappear. Anyhow it’s no concern of shepherds like me.” Guts looked down with a little sadness on his face. “Are you a Midlander, son? What a pity.”

“No,” said Guts, “I just took advantage of their hospitality some, a long time ago.” Did Guts know her cousin Charlotte and the King? Was he part of the Thousand Year war? She looked at her companion wondering who Guts was before he became the Black Swordsman.

“Well, son,” said the Shephard, “I hope yours’re OK. I need to be movin’ on.” The man banged his staff and jiggled bells to draw the sheep’s attention. The flock followed him up the road before he turned back towards the party.

“Ahhh, oh yeah, I forgot,” yelled the old man. “If you’re goin that way, watch out.”

“What old man,” shouted Isidro, “Bandits or somethin’?”

“Better if it were, but it ain’t humans up there. It’s trolls,” said the man. He continued down the hill out of sight.

“Let’s go,” said Guts. They trudged down the hill. Casca attacked the sack on Farnese’s back.

“Hey,” said Farnese, “I don’t have anything.” The woman dug through the bag then gave up when she couldn’t find anything. “Does anyone have something for Casca?”

“No,” said Serpico, “come to think of it we are low on everything.” They traveled lightly since meeting the Black Swordsman and avoided populated areas. They haven’t visited a shop in ages.

“We’ll stop later,” said Guts. The large man’s stomach grumbled and he stopped walking. “Lets find some grub.” Guts followed Isidro down a goat path towards the river. Farnese, Casca and Serpico continued down the path hoping to find the closest town or maybe a person willing to sell them what they needed. Normally Serpico would just forage for food but they required things that couldn’t be found so easily in nature like needles, thread, salt, spices, and oil.

Casca grabbed Farnese’s arm as they walked. Serpico followed behind them as though trying to stay out of sight.

“You’re trying to bring me home,” said Farnese. Serpico hid behind his stoic wall staring at nothing in particular.

“You misunderstand me, M’lady,” said Serpico, “I merely took us to the closest port which happened to be Vritannis.”

“Closest,” echoed Farnese, “is that why it took us almost a month to reach it?”

“It took us a month for the abominably slow pace at which we travel,” said Serpico. With the constant fighting at night, sleeping during the day and time it took to forage and hunt, they were only traveling for several hours a day when luck was on their side. Still, she could hardly believe he was scheming to bring her back to that place which suffocated her so.

“How could you,” said Farnese, “knowing what that mansion did to me.”

“We don’t need to go there,” said Serpico.

“And what if someone recognizes us,” said Farnese.

“What if we spent months traveling to Tudor,” snapped Serpico, “and we didn’t have enough money to travel?”

“We could have found a way,” said Farnese, “Guts is resourceful.”

“Guts is a hammer for whom every problem is a nail,” said Serpico.

“Uhg, you’re impossible,” said Farnese. Casca pulled on her arm, dragging her attention away from Serpico. They skipped arm in arm down the highway as the mountains grew larger to the south. A small inn sat at the juncture where the country highway met the mountain pass. Farnese entered the building with Casca soon followed by Serpico. The Inn had a small store with sparsely stocked shelves. A middle aged woman wearing a soiled apron over a plain frock emerged from a back room.

“Greetings, travelers,” said the woman. Serpico picked up a small spindle of black thread.

“How much is this,” asked Serpico.

“Two silver,” said the woman.

“Two silver,” exclaimed the Body Guard, “This can’t be worth 2 copper.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the woman, “We are a distance from any cities. Getting supplies here is quite difficult and all the traffic to Vritannis has made things even worse.”

“I wouldn’t pay more than one,” said Serpico. The woman smiled at him.

“Then you’ll be paying it somewhere else,” said the woman. “My husband sets the prices and he is out making a delivery so until he gets back I can’t do less.” A jar popped open and the metal lid clinked on the ground. Casca’s hand plunged into jelly before disappearing into her mouth. Enjoy it while you can, my dear, for that will be the most expensive treat of your life.

Chapter 5: The Little Witch

Isidro sat next to a wicker basket of apples holding up two dead birds. Guts dropped an overflowing wood load then stretched with a howl.

“This will make a wonderful stew,” said Serpico taking the birds. “M’lady would you…”

“Yes, of course,” said Farnese. She set up a branch cone with dried leaves and twigs at the center.

“Break time’s over kid,” said Guts. Isidro moaned then stood. Guts pulled a thick branch out from the pile. The heavy wood snapped with an ease that made Farnese shudder. He handed Isidro the smaller piece. “Try to hit me.”

Farnese fashioned three sticks into a makeshift spit with twine then poured a dab of oil onto the cone.

A volley of thrusts jabbed at Guts that he easily parried followed by a wild overhand strike that missed him completely. Isidro jumped then swung at his head but Guts side stepped the blow. The intensity of their training outpaced the mindless, repetitive drilling Serpico endured for years in only a few months. Their energy matched an actual battlefield. The boy tumbled into a dramatic spin as his stick cut towards Gut’s chest. Gut’s stick blocked the blow as the boy drew a second baton from his waistband then used the back spin to aim a shot at Gut’s stomach. The Black Swordsman’s cape wrapped the second hand then his stick bonked the immobilized youth’s head.

“Ahhh,” said Isidro as he fell on his butt dropping both weapons. The stunned boy rubbed his head. “Son of a bitch, I knew it! And I thought I had ya!” Casca put the supper pot on her head as though it was a helmet.

“No one’s going to hit you on the head, hun,” said Farnese. The pot slid over her eyes. Her head tilted back to look out from under the metal.

“Actually, no, you were really on a roll there,” said Guts. He smiled down at Isidro who stopped rubbing his head as though shocked by his kindness.

“R… really,” asked Isidro.

“Use your small size to your advantage and attack from below, ‘cause most fighters don’t expect low blows,” said Guts, “wielding with both hands so you can feint was also a good idea. But if you only attack from below your enemies get used to it. You need a plan they can’t see through. You’d best land your last strike where you can see garments. It’d be impossible to penetrate armor with your strength.” The boy rubbed his chin.

“Hey, you sure about this,” asked Isidro. Guts’ kindness and pride struck Farnese as paternal. Butterflies floated in her stomach. Serpico’s eyes burned upon her watching Guts. Her hands fiddled with the twine holding together the spit. Serpico’s attention turned to Guts as his hands broke a bird’s neck.

“Ain’t trainin’ about practicin’ basics for a long time before learnin’ techniques and stuff,” said Isidro. “You sure about a novice like me learnin’ these kinds of improvised tactics?”

“Aren’t you laying the groundwork everyday,” asked Guts.

“Yeah, but…” said Isidro. Her eyes gravitated to Guts as though they had a will of their own and her hands froze.

“For starters,” interrupted Guts, “you won’t get anywhere imitatin’ me, right? Everything about us is different, including fighting styles. Or do you plan to wait and train for decades to become some master before going out to the battlefield? Talk about patient.”

“Y-You bet your ass I don’t,” said Isidro.

“In that case, all you can do is work with what you’ve currently got,” said Guts. “Besides, a battlefield’s different from exhibition games. You don’t just have one opponent and there’s arrows and cannonballs flyin’ around. You can’t survive only on sword skills. That said, it ain't uncommon for some half-assed master to get swarmed and killed by some gang wantin’ to get famous.”

“Then how do you…,” asked Isidro.

“I told you already,” interrupted Guts, “strain what few wits you have and think for yourself. Isn’t that how you’ve made it this far.” Guts’ back turned on Isidro. Farnese sighed as Guts walked past Serpico.

“Rather kind of you,” said Serpico, “would you mind joining me in gathering firewood?” Guts looked over his shoulder for a moment as his content face hardened.

“If we must,” said Guts before continuing out of the camp. A dead bird blocked her sight.

“M’lady, would you mind,” asked Serpico. She placed the dead bird in her lap as Serpico followed Guts into the woods. A feather plucked out of its skin with an unpleasant pop. Blood leaked from its mouth onto her gloves. Casca took the pot helmet off and watched her pluck feathers. A loud groan came from the river followed by a thud as Isidro plopped out of sight.

“I really don’t think I could come to like handling meat,” said Farnese, “It’s disgusting.” Casca threw a handful of feathers into the air. They floated down like over-sized snow flakes. The woman scooped up another handful then froze. A branch snapped from the woods and her attention shot in that direction. Casca cooed frantically.

“Wha...,” said Farnese. The word hung uncompleted at the sight of a hairy, muscular beast standing just outside the camp. The short, hunch backed monster had an oversized head sitting on top of broad shoulders. A large nose made its small, beady black eyes look even smaller. One hand held a crude axe made from a stone wedge tied to a branch with vines.

“AHHHHHHHH,” screamed Farnese as she threw the bird at the troll. The monster was upon them so quickly she didn’t have a chance to stand. The beast hoisted a woman onto each shoulder then took off into the woods.

“HEEELLLLLPPPPP,” screamed Farnese until her voice gave out. Tree branches stung her back as they pushed through the thick foliage.

“Hey,” yelled Isidro. The teen boy running through the camp disappeared behind trees. Hyperventilation choaked her lungs and throat. Casca’s eyes pleaded for help. Now was not the time to get lost in her own despair. How could she help her? The troll’s strength overwhelmed the weak, useless woman. A rock thudded off a tree as they zigzagged around the woods before popping into a small clearing.

Her fists pounded its anvil like muscle. The blows tore at her soft hands as they sped through the unencumbered gap. Another rock hit its over-sized head and they stopped. Confused marble-like eyes turned to Farnese as though to say how did you do that?

“Hey you, just you wait,” called Isidro as he popped into the clearing. Even creatures as strong as trolls had their weak points. Farnese’s fingers jammed into the black eyes. The women crashed into the ground as massive hands covered the tearing eyes.

“You all right,” asked Isidro as Farnese and Casca pulled themselves to their feet. A pityable whine wheezed from the sniveling beast.

“Yeah,” said Farnese. The troll’s watery red eyes examined Isidro as the crude axe lifted over its head with a battle roar. Her happiness soured into dread with the realization that they were far from safe.

“That’s not human,” said Puck.

“What… what is that thing,” asked Isidro. The teen pushed the women towards the camp. The axe lowered with no attempt to attack them. What was it waiting for? Farnese clung to a shaking Casca. The fleeting bravery Farnese felt while needing to save her completely disappeared. She could not save Casca from this thing any more than she could save herself. They needed Guts and they needed him quickly.

“Ugh, gross,” said Isidro. The monster stepped towards them as Isidro bent to the ground.

“Here it comes, Isidro, stones, stones,” pleaded Puck.

“We should hurry and get away,” said Farnese. The large head shot to the side as a stone sailed into the woods. Isidro’s short sword emerged from the sheath on his back as it walked towards them. Something wasn’t right. This monster possessed great speed and strength yet it approached cautiously. They were in danger, a great deal more than Isidro appreciated. “We… We…” Her heart’s pounding drowned out the sentence she tried forming.

“LET’S DO THIS YA UGLY MONKEY,” yelled Isidro. The boy ran, jumped then attempted a decisive overhand chop. The crude axe blocked the blow with such force, the boy’s legs faltered as he passed. The hairy beast snorted then charged but Isidro had enough control to dive behind a tree. The axe shattered the trunk into wood chips as the tree crashed into the woods.

“Isidro,” called Farnese. Another axe blow fell towards the boy. His sword blocked the blow but the force sent him tumbling backwards. He rolled to a stop, popped to his feet then ran from the charging troll. His foot caught on a root and he fell down. The monster jumped then performed its own overhead chop. Isidro rolled just in time for the axe to lodge into the ground. The blade pulled from the earth as the boy backed away holding his hand up as though that could block the crushing force.

“MOVE,” yelled Farnese. The calming energy from Casca’s touch kept her from tumbling head first into sheer terror. A small red stone hit its hideous face and the beady eyes opened wide as though it just remembered something. The beast dropped on all fours then bounded away like an ugly, mutant dog.

“Berries,” said Isidro. A person not much larger than a child walked out of the woods holding a brown staff curved on the top like the knot of a tree. A pointed hat with a broad brim shadowed the figure’s face. A gold button held shut a brown robe with a large collar sticking out to the hat’s edge.

“Don’t move,” said a young feminine voice. A prone Isidro watched the mysterious figure approaching him.

“What the…,” said Isidro.

“What, is that…,” said Puck. The small woman stood over the slack jawed boy.

“Be quiet, there is danger. Take a look around,” said the shadowy figure. The witch looked into the tree canopies. Her gaze led to a small troll army looking down from branches.

“Ugg, uhhh,” said Isidro. The terrified boy looked around the canopy shivering. “Wh… when did they…”

“Trolls rarely hunt alone,” said the stranger, “they are sure to form packs. All of you come here.” Farnese pulled Casca to the short woman. “Crouch down, please.” Farnese helped Casca down as the woman removed string from a satchel on her hip then made a circle on the ground. Isidro knelt within the circle.

“Listen closely,” said the woman. “Whatever happens, you must not exit or disturb this circle.” She poured dirt at the circle’s top then stuck a stick at another point.

“Wh… what is this,” said Isidro.

“It’s magic,” said Puck, “This is a magic ritual.” Farnese caught a glimpse of her face while she placed a stone. Her unblemished tight skin glowed with youth. Brown straight hair framed a thin, young face. The witch wasn’t a small woman but a little girl. She finished the circle then held her staff out. Does that mean this girl is a real…

A naked elf slid across the hat’s brim. She smiled at Farnese then winked.

“That’s right,” said the elf, “That’s what it means. She’s a witch!”

“An elf,” exclaimed Isidro.

“One’a me! Wowee,” said Puck.

“What she’s chantin’ right now is a spell to protect all you from the shaggies,” said the girl elf. “So you better shush and not bother her if you don’t want to die.”

Words Farnese couldn’t understand passed her lips while the witch moved the staff. The tree knot head left a fire trail lingering in the air. The trolls jumped from the trees then closed on the group. The fire formed a burning pentagram as they raised crude weapons. The trolls came within a step of running over the party when the girl opened her eyes and the pentagram flew forward. The fire smashed into the group with a hiss.

Burning flesh and hair filled the air with a familiar odor as the beasts scrambled away. Magic. Real Magic. The smell reminded Farnese of watching heretics burn. Countless people’s deaths that she chalked up to the cravings of ravenous power were not all lies. Witches capable of terrible things existed. The abominable acts she thought were all fantasy had a core of truth buried within. Why would the incarnation of evil and sin save them? She thought of Guts standing against the darkness but in miniature.

The witch removed a handful of golden strands from her satchel, held them to her lips then blew. The golden hairs shot from her fist like small flaming arrows. They veered and darted as though being directed. A troll squealed as a yellow line buried into it’s flesh.

“Wow,” said Isidro, “what’s going on?”

The crude tools tried swatting away the stinging lines but couldn’t stop them. The monsters fled leaving none but the stunned boy, Farnese, Casca and the little witch. The witch sighed. Despite the horrors and miracles she witnessed with the Black Swordsman, Farnese couldn’t believe what she just witnessed. How could this young girl handle the butchery that plagued them with such ease? Were her nights also so full of terror? She seemed calm, content even: certainly not insane like Casca or broken like Guts.

“I used hair as a catalyst to project the power of fire elementals along the flow of OD,” said the young witch, “After all, to those not of this world, it is the same as being shot with fire arrows.” Fire Elementals? OD? What did these words mean?

“Don’t bother tellin’ these guys stuff like that,” said the female elf.

“Please heed some advice,” said the girl, “It would be best if you took your leave of this region quickly.” The young girl turned, her face still cloaked in shadows. Farnese took this as her cue to stand and helped Casca to her feet.

“No need to worry, we may not look it but we’re pretty used to monsters like those,” said Isidro.

“Begging your pardon,” said the witch, “but based on what I saw, the next time your sword skills will cost you your life.” Isidro’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward with his fist clenched.

“WHAAAT,” exclaimed the boy.

“I must go,” said the girl. She walked out of the circle as the female elf on her hat waved good bye.

“H-hey, wait OLD HAG,” said Isidro. His hand reached for her shoulder as his feet tangled in the string. The boy stumbled. His arms wrapped around her back as his face slammed into her spine. She arched as the boy looked up at the back of her head, his hands lingering on her chest. “Wh-what the…? Those aren’t an old hag’s! For that matter they’re hardly there!” The young witch looked at Isidro over her shoulder. “A KID???” Her wide brown eyes sparkled as her lip quivered. The sparkle grew larger as the stunned boy stared into her face transfixed. Her lips mumbled as his body went slack. The staff’s knot connected with his forehead. The boy squatted then bobbed side to side like a monkey.

“Ohh, ohhh, ahh, ah,” said Isidro. His hands waved over his head then clapped. The monkey boy scaled atree then scratched his forehead staring down at the women while squatting on a branch.

“I am sorry, mistress witch, for my companion’s rudeness,” said Farnese. The girl looked at Farnese with a hard, distrustful glance. “If you don’t mind me being so bold, may I ask what those flames were that hovered in the air like a pentagram?” Her hard features turned into surprise. The witch huffed, turned away from Farnese then walked away as the elf waved good bye again.

“I’m sorry, M’lady if I offended,” called Farnese. “If you could spare but a moment.”

“Ohhh, ohhh, ahhhh, ahhh,” said Casca. The woman mimicked Isidro as he danced back and forth on the branch. The boy’s arm lifted as he scratched under his armpit then beat his chest. Casca did the same. Farnese couldn’t leave Isidro in this state and she didn’t dare risk leaving Casca alone again so she just watched the witch disappear into the woods wishing she could have asked her about magic. Most of all she wished to apologize for killing so many of her friends.

“Seems like an improvement,” said Puck. The chestnut headed elf flew up to Isidro who turned away from them.

“Hey what gives,” yelled from down the woods. Guts emerged into the clearing followed by a frantic Serpico running after him.

“Lady Farnese,” yelled Serpico.

“What happened,” asked Guts.

“What is he doing,” said Serpico.

“Well,” said Farnese. She explained about the troll and its attempts to kidnap her and Casca, Isidro’s attempts to stop it, the pack that ambushed them and the witch who saved them. The fantastical tale of monsters and witches felt like stories to entertain children rather than an accounting of what actually happened. Her life had changed so much during the short time she knew Guts. The world itself had gone mad and taken her with it. At the end of her tale, Guts and Serpico watched Isidro pick his nose then eat it.

“What do we do with him,” asked Serpico.

“We could put him on a leash,” said Guts.

“Is that your solution for everything,” asked Serpico. “Shall we leave him be, he seems to enjoy this.”

The young boy jumped down from the tree squatting amid the group with his balled fists on the ground between his feet. His brow scrunched as his eye lids curved in an inhuman way.

“Son’ve bitch, ohhhh,” said Isidro, “That damn witch kid, ahh ahh.” Monkey Isidro waved his arms over his head then rested again. Guts walked towards the camp. Isidro crouch-walked with his knuckles dragging. Casca dropped down into her own crouch walk while making monkey sounds. Monkey Isidro frowned at Casca then scratched his head.

“When’ll I go back to normal,” asked the boy. Farnese dragged Casca up by the arm. Normally, the mimicry would have been amusing but Isidro did just save their lives and didn’t deserve further insult.

“Good job, for you,” said Guts.

“Yes, thanks to you, our two women were safe,” said Serpico. Farnese deflated at the recognition of herself as just a woman to keep safe. Was that really all she was any more, a thing to protect? She learned the hard way that she would never be the great warrior she always supposed. She hoped she made strides away from being a burden but still had a long way to go. That young witch couldn’t have been more than twelve but she stood defiant against forces that even Serpico couldn’t have overcome. Was that the real power of magic? Her acts were nothing short of miracles.

Hands on her shoulders broke her from her thoughts as Casca cowered from Gut’s sight. Her normally docile face looked tense as her eyes narrowed and she flashed her teeth. Guts’s face looked on the verge of tears before his features hardened again.

“She seems to have completely taken to Lady Farnese,” said Serpico. The hands left her shoulders as the Black Swordsman looked ahead again. The tension that electrified the air behind her dissipated as Casca’s attention turned back to the monkey boy.

“Well, perhaps,” said Farnese. A black seed in Casca’s hand dangled over Isidro who danced a jerky monkey jig. Farnese’s eyes drew back to Guts. What happened between these two that led to such profound love on his side and distrust on hers?

Farnese closed the gap then grabbed his arm. The towering man turned and she felt small again but she wanted to know. She needed to know.

“Who is Casca to you,” asked Farnese. Guts sighed then looked ahead again.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Guts. Gut’s general unwillingness to give her a straight answer on anything about his past irked her. If she’s to protect the most important thing to him then she has a right to know what she’s protecting.

“That’s…” said Farnese.

“Still,” interrupted Serpico rubbing his chin, “trolls and a witch?” The bodyguard was telling her not to push any further. She followed his advice and returned to Casca’s side but a day would come eventually when he would have to tell her everything.

“What,” said Isidro, “you don’t believe me?

“No, I did not mean that,” said Serpico, “I have seen enough ghosts and monsters recently to be sick of them. I was just thinking that, compared to those, they seem a bit fairy tale-ish.” Zombies, skeletons, witches and trolls… Trolls! Farnese remembered the cave full of human pieces covered in dense fur with strange heads just like the beasts the witch scared away. Then she remembered the butchered women with their genitals torn to shreds. Farnese’s hand covered her mouth with the realization that would have been them had the witch not come.

“Yeah, come to think of it,” said Puck. Isidro looked up at the elf. The monkey-esque scrunching slacked into a general fatigue. The witch’s spell ended with the boy a bit cathartic but otherwise unharmed.

“I’m gonna get that witch,” said Isidro as he walked ahead of the party. “WHAT THE??” The boy disappeared around a bend. Guts stood over a man laying on his stomach as Farnese, Casca, and Serpico caught up. Blood stained one sleeve of his sweaty overcoat. The bottom cuffs of his stained white pants were torn. A small red trickle leaked from his receding hair line down his weathered face. His body didn’t budge when Isidro poked him.

“A man,” said Farnese, “What should we do?” The Black Swordsman sighed.

“The trolls’re gone,” said Guts surveying the tree line.

“Surely you can’t mean to leave him,” said Farnese. Guts sighed again. He wasn’t the type to leave a helpless injured person prone on the ground. Farnese knew this much about him.

“Tro…,” said the man as his eyes met Guts towering over him. He struggled onto his knees before falling onto his butt. “MONSTER!” He scurried backwards until his back hit a tree. A surprised yelp stole his breath. His eyes darted around before realizing he was in no danger and his tension melted away. Puck bobbed in front of his face.

“Mornin,” said Puck, “Here, hold still. We’re not gonna eat’cha.” The floating elf rained dust onto his head. The swelling abated as the blood trickle dried up.

“Am I,” said the man, “where am I?” Serpico removed a bandage roll from his bag, knelt next to him then pulled his sleeve to his elbow while cradling his bloody arm.

“Don’t worry,” said Serpico, “it’s not broken.”

“Th-thank you very much, you saved me,” said the old man.

“What in the world happened,” asked Serpico as he wrapped the injured limb.

“We were attacked by trolls,” said the man. “There were five others with me but they all…” The man looked down as he trailed off then closed his eyes as though observing a moment of silence.

“Are you from around here, sir,” asked Serpico.

“My village is about an hour from here,” said the man.

“You will never make it back alone with those injuries,” said Serpico looking to Guts who observed him with an emotionless stare. “Is there any way we can see him there?”

“Fine by me, the sun’s still high anyway,” said Guts. He closed his eye then smiled. Was he glad to have someone else make the call for a change?

“I apologize but I cannot return home just yet. There is somewhere I absolutely must go first,” said the man. He attempted to stand then fell onto his butt and scrunched his eyes. “Vertigo.” His second attempt resulted in him falling again. Serpico handed his bag to Farnese who groaned then threw the heavy sack over her shoulder.

Serpico’s hand helped the wobbly man onto his feet.

“Get on,” said Serpico. He knelt before the man who mounted his back.

“I am sorry,” said the old man with the feebleness that came from the setting of one’s mortality.

“It’s no problem, really,” said Serpico. “My name is Serpico, these are my friends Farney, Isidro, Casca, Guts and the Elf is Puck. We’re travelers seeking the port town Vritannis.”

“I am Morgan from Enoch Village,” said the old man, “As travelers you might not know this but this area has for a long time held many legends of fairies, witches, and the like. Although that is the realm of fable and Folklore, there were some who said they had actually seen them, but there had been no hard proof and even among natives there were not many who believed the legends through and through until that cursed night came.”

“Cursed night,” asked Isidro. Isidro’s response surprised Farnese; he didn’t seem like the type to have the attention span for a story longer than a sentence or two. Casca, on the other hand, was already trying to dig through Serpico’s bag but his cooking pot blocked her attempt.

“The first night of winter, a pack of trolls attacked the village just like they had fallen out of a tale. They emerged from the darkness,” said Morgan. The first snow storm came that night at Albion when the perfect man emerged from the ruined tower. Was the appearance of the trolls linked to his birth? What other miracles flowed from that beautiful, mysterious man? The thoughts were pure heresy; miracles came not from a man but flowed only from God. Heresy was such an ugly word. How could she still regard anything as heresy? Truth did not destroy ideas with violence like she had during the purges. The doctrine of the Holy See was something different than truth and not entirely holy.

“Yes, ever since that night it’s like the whole world has changed,” said Morgan. “As if all that had been before was a lie. Not only do they ruin the fields and steal livestock, they even carry off our women and children. Because of the war with the Kushan, heavy taxes are imposed on the people. Enoch village was poor to begin with and it will be all we can do not to starve to death this winter! Now we are raided by creatures of legend. It is just a matter of time before the village is wiped out!”

“Then do you plan to appeal directly to your lord,” asked Serpico.

“Our lord has been dispatched to Vritannis and the castle is now empty,” said Morgan. “Even if we were to tell him, would he ever send soldiers for such nonsense like trolls?” The party continued deeper into the woods. The idea that they were walking towards purposes unknown made Farnese uneasy but the old man had a soothing, disarming quality that left the party transfixed. Even Puck and Isidro hung on his every word.

“A legend for a legend,” said Morgan, “A witch! We thought we could request help from a witch.”

“A witch,” exclaimed Isidro. The boy put on an impish smile as he balled his fist then touched his sword’s hilt.

“Magic’s not our friend,” said Guts. The young witch’s strength and kindness was not something to be feared. She didn’t mean them any harm despite the spell she cast on Isidro. That spell was nothing but a child’s prank.

“I believe this witch is different,” said Morgan. “It is said that deep in this forest lives a witch in her mansion. Only those the mistress of the mansion wills may reach that place. In any case, the villagers are too afraid to go near but of old there sometimes have been children who claimed they saw it. We already searched the forest for five days but could not find anything like that. Eventually we were unlucky enough to find trolls…”

“So there’s a witch’s spell cast on this forest,” asked Isidro, “then wouldn’t it be a waste of time no matter how long you searched?” The old man closed his eyes as though thinking. A spiral carved into a tree trunk reminded her of the one they found on that country road.

“We met a witch and I’m totally going to kick her ass next time,” said Isidro. The boy punched the air and the old man’s eyes shot open.

“A witch,” exclaimed the man, “what was she like?”

“She was but a child in plain brown robes with a matching cloak and hat,” said Farnese. “She carried a large staff topped by a knot and conjured fire from nothing and enchanted poor Isidro to act like a monkey. Most of all, she saved us from the trolls.” The man looked at Guts who shrugged.

“What’s this old familiar feeling,” said Puck. They rounded a path then Isidro ran ahead.

“WHAT THE HELL,” exclaimed the boy. A house blended with a large tree in a clearing. A roof covered in moss angled from the box like house as branches shot in every direction. A full canopy dusted with white blossoms shaded the tree house. Large windows without glass overlooked the lawn around the base. Smaller trees reaching from the ground to the roof’s edge made an overhanging porch. Wood stairs led to large brown doors with intricate carvings that resembled vines. A metal weather vane topped by a half moon sat on the roof over the door. A sweet floral scent wafted from the home giving Farnese the impression of her green house when the flowers were in full bloom. A massive branch growing from the house’s center angled strangely into the canopy. Small stones stuck out of the lawn like a miniature grave yard.

“Wild, this is just like a fairy tale,” said Isidro. The old man climbed off Serpico. His legs wobbled but he was able to stay on his feet after steadying. “Ohhh wow! Trees growin’ out of a house! Wait! Is the house growin’ out of the trees? HEY! HEY! We found it already mister.”

The old man stepped towards the home, tears beading in his eyes.

“It really wasn’t a dream,” said Morgan. “Did I not say some children saw this mansion long ago? One of those children was me. No one believed me, and so many years passed that even I came to think it was a dream.”

Isidro’s fist punched into his open hand then he grinned like a cat.

“That witch kid’s probably here too. Now what kinda payback should I get,” said the boy. Morgan stumbled towards the house. Isidro ran through the small gravestones as Farnese’s party walked behind Morgan. “HEYYYYY!” Isidro veered towards the tree line. “WHAT’S THIS???”

Casca groaned then grabbed her chest. Isidro came upon a large clay statue embedded in the woods. The boy barely reached the top of the statue’s bulbous naval. Casca groaned again as Guts perked up.

“What’s the matter,” asked Farnese. Casca grabbed on to her arm.

“ISIDRO,” yelled Guts, “GET AWAY FROM THAT.”

“Owww,” yelped Isidro as his foot bounced off the fat stomach, “The hell’s this stupid lookin’ stone statue.” Puck landed on Isidro’s head then looked into his face while on all fours. The statue creaked then stood. Two button eyes and a mouth like string under moss hair turned towards the boy. Its dead face looked like a child drew it. Isidro laughed. “It’s got an afro! That’s funny witch!”

“This isn’t a stone statue,” said Puck, “it’s called a golem. It’s a mud puppet used as a helper or house guard by witches.” A stone hand as large as Isidro reached towards the boy.

“Guard…” said the boy. He ran away as the massive hand closed on him. “NO WAY! Nice afro!” The fist closed faster than he could escape. Guts charged drawing the massive dragon slayer as the golem’s hand encircled Isidro. The massive blade cut off the arm just before crushing the boy. Guts whirled then cut off the second arm. The armless golem towered over Guts.

“W-wait,” yelled the old man walking towards Guts. Serpico held him in place by the sleeve. “Please listen to…”

“These things won’t listen to talk,” yelled Guts, “Keep back mister!”

Two fresh arms shot out of the exposed shoulders.

“Geh,” exclaimed Isidro as he returned to the group, “They grew back!”

A flurry of sword strokes cut the golem into small pieces that bubbled then reformed. A stone from the lawn vibrated then sunk into the ground. A much smaller golem arm shot out of the grass. Snapping branches cricketed in the tree line as the stones sucked into the yard. A golem hoard ambled towards the party as the giant golem tried to strike Guts.

“Should I be scared or just laugh,” asked Isidro.

A golem not much larger than a cat sprinted towards the party. Small arms wrapped around Serpico’s shin. The statue flew through the air when he kicked. The clay creature broke apart upon impact then reformed. Isidro’s sword sliced a golem’s head off. The headless creature groped blindly until another head grew then it went after Isidro again only to find it’s head missing a second time.

Isidro took a stick off the ground and smashed the flailing body. The clay crumbled to pieces.

“Forget swords, its easier to just smash ‘em with sticks,” said Isidro. Serpico sheathed his rapier then picked up a branch.

Guts smashed a half dozen statues using the dragon slayer’s broad side but they grew back just like the others.

A small golem’s arms wrapped around Isidro’s thighs and bumped his head into the boy’s butt.

“HEY,” yelped the boy “YEE GO AWAY FREAKY THING!” The boy’s kick broke it apart. The hoard grew closer, more tightly packed. Serpico and Isidro smashed them as they came but they couldn’t handle the volume. One broke through their line then shambled towards Farnese. She shrieked and threw Serpico’s bag at it. The heavy sack broke apart the statue. Another reached for Casca. Farnese ripped the pot from the bag. The heavy metal clanged like a bell as the statue exploded. Casca dug through the bubbling clay.

“When you think about it,” said Isidro, “They’re not much different than the usual spirits. Their dumb faces make ‘em less frightnin’.”

Casca threw bits of clay to the side not even noticing a golem ambling towards her.

“Noooo,” screamed Farnese. The pot caved in its head with a clang. The golem stumbled then fell down twitching. Casca removed a small clay figure that wiggled in her hand.

“What’s that,” asked Serpico. Casca broke the small figure’s head off and the clay stopped bubbling then melted into sand. “EVERYONE! SMALL FIGURES ARE BURIED IN THEIR CHESTS BENEATH THE SYMBOLS! REMOVE THEM AND THEY CANNOT REGENERATE!”

Isidro smashed open one’s chest with an overhand strike. He removed a wiggling figurine then smashed it to pieces. Serpico unsheathed his rapier again then thrust into the spiral carved into one’s chest. A sand waterfall splashed to the ground as he pulled the dead figure off his blade. All at once the golems slunched over. Guts smashed the giant golem one last time then stopped fighting.

The mansion door creaked open and the little witch emerged from the darkness.

Chapter 6: The Spirit Tree

“What.. what happened,” asked Farnese. Isidro pushed a Golem; the clay statue teetered then fell over.

“They just up and stopped,” said the boy. Morgan hobbled towards the stairs using the immobile statues for support as he closed on the witch in the doorway’s shadow.

“Mistress witch, please listen,” implored the old man.

“You are all welcome. It seems my mistress will see you,” said the witch.

“YOU,” yelled Isidro, “I KNEW IT!” The boy charged past the old man then bounded up the stairs. “Ya think ya can enchant me, ya shrimp! I’ll take ya on!”

“Ah, hold on,” Said Serpico. “What do we do?”

“We’ve been invited,” said Guts, “Let’s go have a look at the witch.” The party navigated the dead statue hoard to the front stairs. Serpico helped the old man up by the elbow. Casca’s hand rested on Farnese’s shoulder as they followed the men. All the horrors of her childhood swirled within the void-like blackness behind the girl. Implements used in dark rituals undoubtedly filled this house. Cannibalism, torture, human sacrifice, death, misery, everything the Holy See doctrine told her was wrong in the world collected in one place. Farnese squeezed Casca’s hand as they ascended the stairs.

“What gives ya the right ta turn me inta a monkey, you stupid little girl,” said Isidro. The boy’s fist waved by the witch’s head but she looked past him at the approaching party. The young girl’s pretty face looked down with a serious expression normally reserved for people much older than her. Her big brown eyes had a gentleness and a loneliness that reminded Farnese of the children from the Monastery. Surely this little girl couldn’t be involved in such horrendous things? Why was Farnese having such trouble escaping the lessons of the Holy See? Why did that fake reality that Guts tore to pieces so many times still have it’s hooks in her mind? Why did she believe in the reality that failed every night they fought against monsters? The girl’s gentle look put Farnese’s heart at ease.

“I don’t have to justify myself to a perv like you,” said the Witch. Farnese could tell by the way the young witch talked that she was highly educated. Most likely the girl did not spend much time in the outside world.

“Don’ ignore me ya stupid magic bi…,” said Isidro. Gut’s good hand connected with Isidro’s head and he stopped talking.

“We are her guests,” said Guts. The boy looked up at the towering swordsman then walked past the girl into the house. The girl’s eyes grew large as Guts towered several head lengths over her. Was this how Farnese looked when she first met the Black Swordsman? He was quiet unlike any other man.

“Woooooo,” yelled Isidro. Farnese followed the witch into the tree house. “What’s all this neat stuff? Feels more like a nest than a house. I feel like I’m a squirrel or somethin’. And it’s filled with tons of weird stuff.”

The home vibrated with a strange energy that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The dense air felt slimy and writhing but not in a scary way like the darkness. A breeze moved around her in swirls. Everything felt like it was alive; No, it felt like life itself.

Brown pouches sat in cubbies cut into the tree. Runes from a language Farnese didn’t recognized labeled each one. A shower of dried green leaves poured onto the wood floor. Casca opened the bag further to peek inside then dropped it.

“Please,” said the witch. The young girl’s arms waved frantically as Casca reached for the next bag. Farnese dragged her away from the pouches.

“Now, now,” said Farnese, “we are guests. Don’t be rude.” A bright blue tubular flower grew in a window box.. Ivy crawled up the walls. Long green vines hanging from the ceiling moved away from Farnese’s hand. Something in the wall tickled her palm. A small brown insect disappeared into the wood. What was that creature that could disappear into a solid object? Casca pulled long green grass out of a pot under the window. The leaves emmited a pungent lemon odor. “Lemon grass,” asked Farnese but the little witch stomped over to Isidro.

“You there,” said the witch approaching the boy by a table. He picked up a glass tube then looked though it like a spy glass. “Do not go touching things on the desk.” The boy twirled the test tube between his fingers.

“Ain’t you supposed to be the witch,” asked Isidro.

“I am Schierke and I am still in training,” said the girl. She removed her hat to reveal a short bob cut and bangs that framed a pretty young face.

“I’m Ivalera,” said the female elf. “I look after her.”

“Huh, not even a real witch yet,” said Isidro sticking his finger into the tube. “I’m Isidro and I owe you one. I spent half a day up the family tree thanks to you.”

“That’s because you grabbed me in a weird place,” said Schierke. She held the hat close to her chest invoking memories of Farnese’s rabbit. The big blue flower streaked past her vision. Casca ran around holding the flower in the air as though it were a pinwheel.

“Casca,” said Farnese chasing after her. The woman vaulted over a large aloe plant that Farnese ran around. Casca trapped herself between the stairs and a pot holding a strange red bush with purple berries. The flower waved in the air out of Farnese’s reach. Her fingertips just missed the erratically moving plant.

“OOOO, OOOO, AHH, AHHHH,” yelled Isidro. The boy danced with the glass tube sticking out of a nostril. The flustered girl’s face shone bright red as the boy danced like a monkey. The momentary distraction was enough for Casca to slip past Farnese. She taunted Farnese with a monkey dance.

“Stop with the teasing,” said Guts. His real hand smacked Isidro’s head. The boy’s face connected with the table as the tube shot from his nose shattering on the floor. The violent act froze Casca. She looked up at Guts with wide, intimidated eyes as though he might also strike her at any moment. Farnese locked arms with her then threw the flower away.

Schierke looked over the blue flower, torn lemon grass, broken tube, and emptied pouch littering the vestibule then sighed like the one who would eventually have to clean it up. Embarrassment turned Farnese’s face red.

“Come this way,” said Schierke as she disappeared up the steps.

The staircase led to an open great room where an old woman sat at a rocking chair next to a steaming tea set. A twenty foot window capped by wood braided into a pentagram sat below the ceiling. The house looked like a cottage from the outside. How did it contain such a massive drawing room? The ceilings were impossibly high and the room far too large. Was the space within the home distorted by magic?

The gray haired woman wore brown robes similar to Schierke except for a white lace shawl covering her shoulders that gave her an elegant, matronly look. The woman’s exceptional beauty, content gaze and coy girlish smile made Farnese think for but a moment that she was a young woman with gray hair.

Potted plants filled the warm, sunny room. A large library occupied built-in bookshelves lining the tree’s living wall. Strange glass and metal implements sat on a table tucked in the corner. Small cubbies housed more bags behind the table.

“I have brought them Mistess,” said Schierke from the doorway clutching her hat again. The powerful witch that scared away the trolls as though they were nothing more than a trifle struck Farnese as insecure. Despite her power and competence, she was a little girl after all. Farnese’s arm moved to comfort her as though it had a mind of it’s own but she pulled back. Was this not what she wished for more than anything in those lonely times in Vritannis: that someone would reach out to her and say ‘you have been seen’? Her arm continued but never reached it’s target as the young girl entered the parlor.

“Welcome to the mansion of the Spirit Tree,” said the old witch. “Please forgive my apprentice for being impolite. She is merely concerned for my safety. I am Flora, the Mistress of this mansion.”

“SHE’S a witch,” asked Isidro pointing at Flora. “I thought for sure witches had pointed noses and looked like some wrinkled monster!”

“Insolence,” said Schierke. Flora laughed then covered her mouth with the side of her hand.

“Ho, ho… thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” said Flora. Schierke stared daggers at Isidro while he returned the glare.

“Ohhh,” said Morgan as he trailed off in contemplation before his eyes grew wide. “You are surely the one from… I remember! My mother was saved from the brink of death by the medicine I received from you that day fifty years ago! It’s unbelievable, you’re just as you were then!”

“In a way she IS a monster,” said Isidro.

“You be silent, monkey,” said Schierke.

Farnese could salvage some self respect thinking that witches were like that coven that turned into hideous monsters after cannibalizing slain priests in the slums. A real life witch sat before her and she was nothing like those monsters. Did they put some of her kin to the torch? Perhaps one of the children she thought so needless and innocent was like Schierke. Maybe a woman holding her head high with dignity or a man pleading for his family. Her stomach churned with guilt and regret as she stood behind the young witch trying to hide in shame.

“Lady Farnese,” whispered Serpico. What would this woman do when she found out that Farnese killed one of her relatives? Would she banish them from her home? Refuse to help Casca and Guts?

“My folk were not among those whose lives you took,” said Flora. Farnese snapped from her thoughts as the old woman stared right at her. “Even if they were, the fault would collectively lie upon the servants of your deity. I do not seek retribution from you as an individual.” How did she know what Farnese was thinking? Could a real witch so easily provide her with the absolution that she sought? No, if she had not killed a single witch in her wrath then it was somehow even worse. The destruction of so much life was that much more pointless.

“And you, the branded pair,” said Flora looking at Guts. Farnese was glad to have the attention off her.

“How did you,” asked Guts.

“It pleases me to make your acquaintance,” said the woman with a smile, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You’ve been waiting,” asked Guts, “then… You know about us?”

“Yes, they of the brand guided by tiny wings,” said Flora. “I have awaited you.”

“Old woman, who the hell…,” said Guts.

“One moment,” interrupted Flora as she turned to Morgan, “His story is of the higher priority. Your story of the trolls. I am anxious about them too. Trolls originate from the astral world. Rarely should they even be seen by humans, much less attack their homes.”

“Well, in that case,” said Morgan. The man approached shuffling his feet nervously as though about to throw himself on his knees.

“Unfortunately, I cannot help you,” said Flora closing her eyes before bowing her head.

“H… How come,” asked Morgan, his pained tone so palatable Farnese felt it within herself.

“This old body has neither the strength, nor the time left to leave this place,” said Flora.

“The way you talk, it sounds like you’re gonna DIE,” said Isidro. Schierke’s head shot towards him. “Wh… What?! If looks could kill!”

“You’re a bit insensitive,” said Ivalera. Her fingers shoved into Isidro’s face and he backed away.

“As the boy says, my time of death draws near,” said Flora.

“Then how in the world will we,” pleaded Morgan. The old woman leaned back in her chair.

“No need to worry,” said Flora, “I cannot go myself but I can have one go in my stead. Schierke, be of service to them.”

“Whoa, big job,” said Isidro.

“Mistress, no, I,” pleaded Schierke.

“It is high time for you too to put your training into practice,” said Flora.

“But I,” said Schierke.

“Hey now, you chicken,” interrupted Isidro.

“I am NOT,” said Schierke, “how vulgar.”

“Could I ask all of you to please assist my disciple,” asked Flora.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Guts. The little girl turned red as though she was going to faint from embarrassment. “I understand you’re worried about your favorite student, but we’ve got no obligation to go that far. Sorry but we’ve gotta stick to our journey.” Her lip curled into a small smile as crow’s feet appeared by her eyes.

“Upon your return, I shall produce talismans to protect you on the rest of your journey,” said Flora.

“Charms,” asked Isidro, “ain’t that all in your head.”

“How rude,” exclaimed Schierke, “Talismans made by the magi are not the same as superstitions! Even among them, my mistress’s are special.” Farnese looked at the strange marking on Gut’s neck that bleed so many times. Blood that she herself tasted. The dark desires smoldered within her. Flora stared at her as she remembered straddling the Black Swordsman on the beach naked, lapping at his blood like pure ecstasy. Pleasure into shame, shame into self loathing, self loathing into pain, pain into pleasure. The cycle had a hold of her this time under the voyeuristic gaze of one who could see those thoughts.

“The brand is not simply a marking upon your body,” said Flora moving her eyes from the guilt wracked Farnese back onto Guts. “The brand acts like a tether connecting you to an area deep within the Astral realm where powerful creatures attuned to Darkness scheme to take over the physical world. Everywhere you go that tether acts like a knife severing the thin layer you call reality, exposing you to the interstice, the layer which exists between the world of humans and the astral plane, the world of spirits. Spirits can use that tear to traverse into the physical plane. The cursed power of that brand defies imagination. Erasing it is beyond my power. However, weakening the intensity of its power should reduce the evil spirits it can draw or at least protect against you yourselves becoming possessed.”

“You… you can do that,” stammered Guts.

“However, due to the immense power of the curse, there is a limit to the potency of the talisman,” said Flora. “Even so, it should hold for the duration of your journey.”

“Oh, Ok,” said Isidro, “So that’s what that brand does!”

“Have you been on this journey with them not even knowing that,” asked Schierke. Isidro nodded. “Is that foolish or daring?” Casca ducked behind Farnese then moved her between them by the shoulders. Guts deflated again, that poor man.

“Okay, I accept,” said Guts.

“Negotiation complete,” said Flora. Morgan grabbed Gut’s hands with tears in his eyes, bowed his head and talked with him. The rest of the party watched but Farnese couldn’t take her eyes off the witch. Her calm demeanor, the ease with which she bent Guts to her will, the self assured smile. The woman was truly a force of nature.

“M… mistress,” said the little witch holding her hat again.

“Extend greetings to everyone, Schierke,” said Flora.

“It…,” said Schierke, “it is nice to meet all of you.” Isidro popped up in front of the girl with an exaggerated, menacing smile.

“YEAAAHHHH,” yelled the boy slamming his hands down on her shoulders, “Leave it to us! There’s somethin’ I owe those things! I’m talkin’ revenge!” The girl’s eyes narrowed as he beat her shoulders. “Well, try not to get in the way, little witch apprentice.”

“Now prepare the evening meal, Schierke, and the medicated bath,” said Flora. “You must all be tired from your long journey. Please rest easy for the night then depart tomorrow. Schierke too has various preparations to make.”

“Wait a minute,” said Guts, “If you know about the brand, you should also know that we…”

“No need to worry,” said Flora. “The mansion is protected by talismans as well. I guarantee safety for the night. You may rest easy.”

“Follow me,” said the little witch. She walked through the door followed by Morgan.

“Farnese de Vandimion,” said the witch. Farnese froze as though she had cast a spell on her. “Please stay a minute.” Serpico looked back at her as the party filed out the door. Her hand waved him on and he left. The old woman who seemed so feeble felt all at once immense. Her access to the depths of Farnese’s depravity gave her power over the fledgling caretaker. Again, Farnese was reminded of just how small she was.

“I knew your Great, Great Grandmother Lucrezia,” said Flora. “We were good friends who undertook a mission together to stop the fourth eclipse.”

“But the bible only ascribes importance to the fifth eclipse,” said Farnese.

“Every eclipse creates a special alignment of celestial bodies opening a pathway to deep within the astral world,” said Flora. “When that happens, a human can perform a ritual to become a Demon Lord by sacrificing the thing most important to them. The ritual creates a new member of the God Hand and the final living sacrifice becomes that Demon Lord’s first apostle.

“Does the ritual have something to do with the demons the Black Swordsman hunts and that beautiful man from the tower at Albion,” asked Farnese.

“From now on, everything has to do with the man from the tower,” said Flora. “I could read your thoughts just now of the Black Swordsman and his brand.” Farnese bowed her head, the shame and guilt flushed her cheeks. “Do you love one cursed like him?”

“He saved me,” said Farnese, “and one can be so inclined to feel a certain way for one who does that…”

“Your grandmother was a conflicted woman torn between two lives,” said Flora, “You will have to make a similar choice before everything is done and hopefully you have the strength to succeed where she failed. A time will come where the right thing feels wrong and I hope you will be strong enough to see it through.”

“What happened with Lucrezia and the fourth eclipse,” asked Farnese. Flora looked down at the hands knotted in her lap.

“You are vulnerable right now, and I am afraid some truths will do you more harm than good. We shall talk again when you return but for now you need to focus on helping the branded ones,” said Flora.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Golems waddled around a dining room table holding platters over their heads. Farnese took a plum wrapped in a honey soaked leaf then thanked the statue. Casca’s eyes lit up as she shoved a handful into her face then mashed them with a mouth she couldn’t keep entirely closed. Farnese grabbed her hand as she reached for more then the golem teetered off. Another ladled creamy pumpkin soup into Farnese’s bowl.

A mixed salad sprinkled with nuts sat next to a bowl of apples. Isidro shoveled salad into his face as though he never ate before. Schierke watched him with a mix of disgust and curiosity.

“S’GOOD,” exclaimed the boy. The girl leaned away clinging to a mug of tea. Her hands always clutched something, a particular habit Farnese recognized within herself. How alike were they? “I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal of nothin’ but nuts n’ leaves.” The boy didn’t stop eating to talk. An armorless Guts leaned on his elbows fingering his cup’s brim as his gaze lazily bounced between the table’s occupants. A small smile breached his lips that sent chills down her spine. Her thoughts immediately reminded her that Flora could read her mind.

“Old lady,” said Guts, “back to what we were talking about. You said you were waitin’ for us. What’s that supposed to mean? How do you know about the brand?”

“There was an oracle from a friend in the astral world,” said Flora, “They of the Brand will visit this forest guided by tiny wings. I want you to lend them a hand.” Was she talking about Farnese’s Grandmother? Had Lucrezia visited Flora before their arrival and asked her to aid them? “Though I’m the one being helped now, so it’s revered.”

“Lend a hand…,” pondered Guts, “who the hell said?”

“Hey, what’s that astral world thing,” said Isidro waving his spoon as though it were a sword.

“To put it simply, the after-life,” said Flora. “Due to the cursed power of the brand, you all have been rendered able to keenly sense ethereal bodies unseen by the naked eye.”

“Are ethereal bodies ghosts,” asked Isidro before shoving the spoon into his mouth.

“There is a trinity in which our world is overlapped by the existence of two other worlds,” said Scheirke holding up her finger as though reciting a catechism. “One is known commonly as the world of spirits, the astral world. The other is the soul of the origin of all existence, the world of Idea.”

“That’s a little complicated, but it comes down to ghosts, right? Ain’t they a little too lively,” said Isidro, “They’re all sticky like snot. Makes me sick.”

“Those are the ethereal bodies that your ethereal body’s perceiving,” said Schierke. Farnese’s mind drifted to the crawling blackness below the Vandimion mansion, the same blackness she saw at Albion tower. Were they manifestations of the Astral world? Why was she able to see them before she met the Black Swordsman? “If an ethereal body is sensed strongly enough, your physical body will see it and touch it as if it were a real thing.”

“Does that mean,” asked Serpico pointing at the elves fighting over the last apple in the bowl, “elves and trolls are inhabitants of the same astral world? Many people over the ages have recognized this fact as reality and because their world view continues to be passed down, we are able to perceive, see, and touch these little ones?” Casca grabbed the apple from their tiny hands and shoved it into her mouth.

“Long ago it was quite natural to believe in the existence of elves. But with the spread of the doctrine of the Holy See,” said Schierke crossing her arms as she spoke, “of one universal world view, those who can see them have dwindled. So many of the elves who can no longer interact with humans have faded away to some place in the astral world.” Puck flew towards Farnese then hovered in front of her face.

“Awww,” said Puck, “So that’s why Farny couldn’t see me at first but now that she’s seen enough scary stuff. Savor the taste.” The elf grabbed her nose then moved her face around by the nostrils. Farnese’s face scrunched up as she fought the urge to sneeze.

“Please do not tease her,” said Serpico. His stone cold tone gave Puck pause before he dropped her and flew off.

“You’re sure we’ll be okay in your homeland,” said Guts, “don’t tell me its the afterlife.”

“No prob, no prob,” said the Chestnut headed elf, “plenty a’ people’ve lived there… I think.”

“Then hey,” exclaimed a wide eyed Isidro as he smashed his hands together. “All everyone has to do is stop believin’ in weird stuff! Then even the trolls’ll be gone just like that…”

“Things are not that simple,” said Schierke. “There is a thing called the subconscious that humans cannot themselves control.”

“Since long ago, we magi have learned and inherited the practice of releasing our ethereal bodies from the confines of our physical world to delve into the astral world,” said Flora. Farnese imagined herself floating in a great void surrounded by ghosts like the ones that surrounded Guts screaming Sacrifice and Flesh. She had always longed to leave the mortal world and fly among the angels but since meeting Guts, the spiritual world no longer seemed like the inviting place she always thought.

“In the relatively shallow layer of the astral world known as the interstice,” continued Flora, “Various ethereal beings exist as living legends. Even the scenery is mostly derived from the ethereal forms of our world, so there is little disparity between it and our physical reality. Thus the dead who did not realize they died or who left the physical world regretfully often wander there. Eventually, nearly all become aware of their own death or become unable to maintain the form of their ethereal bodies and pass away from this layer. Then in the deep layer of the astral world, the scenery comes to look unimaginably different from that of the physical world. There exists astral entities with whom the ethereal bodies of mere humans cannot even compare. Angels, demons, Gods of Polytheism.

“Deeper still, realms people reach according to their own Karma. Though if you dive too deep, you become unable to return, so no one has ever gone that far while alive. Further still in the abyss, perhaps... the world doesn’t extend in merely two dimensions. There exists profound depths within itself. This world could never be summarized by materialism or any single doctrine. Accept the great mysteries and explore the entire universe from within your world. That is the way of magic.”

The greater universe, the truth behind the terror. Farnese hung on every word the great mage said. Her pulse thundered around her body as though mortal jeopardy dogged her. The doctrine of the Holy See, viscous self interest mascaraed as truth. The small slice of hell she saw when Guts rent the world around her was enough to bring that false doctrine crashing down. She longed for the truth that she thought flowed from Guts not knowing what it was. The heretical thoughts tightened her chest, her mind swam in the possibilities. The universe in all its grandeur laid at the Magi’s fingertips. Farnese stared at a wall of guilt and shame suffocating on longing.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Steam rose from the crystal clear bath water pooling behind the spirit tree. Farnese didn’t understand how the water stayed so warm but she didn’t understand much from the world of magic. Everything seemed just outside the grasp of her understanding like a dream one knows happened after they awoke but the details are just the faint hint of a memory. Candles lining the tub gave the night’s only light outside the ambient glow from the tree house above. The medicine Schierke put in the water melted away the fatigue and constant ache within her muscles. Free from the pain, her mind felt a clarity she long forgot.

A velveteen rag ran over Casca’s battle scarred skin leaving a trail of bubbles. For once, the woman sat still on the pool’s edge. Farnese wondered if her stiff rag was the reason for so many of their bath time struggles. Hard muscles tensed as a breeze goose pimpled the woman’s flesh. She twisted, turned then tried to fall into the pool.

“Come on, hold still,” said Farnese and the woman eased. Even after so long outside of the battlefield, this woman was strong. Farnese cleaned a thin, long scar over her chest where a sword pierced her. Several arrow wounds punctured her stomach. How Farnese wished she had known her when she was of sound mind. Her body was a testament to her prowess in battle, her fearlessness and guile. Casca would have struck awe within the useless babysitter. The cloth ran over her stomach and she giggled and wiggled like a little girl before scooping up a hand full of bubbles and blowing them. What did Farnese do to earn the trust of Casca? She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve any of the happiness and companionship that Casca offered; yet she gave it freely. Maybe she didn’t give it at all and Farnese only took it.

The bible told stories of Kings suplicating themselves at beggar’s feet. Great men who took to washing a peasant’s feet to show that they were humble before God. Farnese knelt then took Casca’s foot in her hand. The woman squirmed but then watched with curiosity. The future Queen to an unknown King washed her friend’s feet. Casca belted out a hardy laugh when Farnese reached the bottoms then rolled into the pool. The lavender smelling water splashed out as Farnese followed her in. A sweet smelling paste foamed as Farnese rubbed it into Casca’s hair.

“It’s so damaged from the long journey,” said Farnese. Bubbles leaked down into her face. She panicked before dunking her head under the water. Puck floated on a barrel lid drinking from a small cup as a wave drove him from side to side before he bounced off the wall. The small table and bottle fell over. Farnese sunk up to her chin in the water’s warmth as Puck reset his table. She never dreamed she would find comfort like this during their travels. What’s more in a witch’s mansion.

“PERV,” yelled Schierke from the stairs. A scuffle ensued on the landing followed by a crashing.

“Hey,” yelled Isidro, “what’s the big idea!” The water soothed Farnese so much she feared falling asleep right there. Casca picked through the floating oblong leaves.

“He really does love you,” said Farnese, “I hope one day you are cured and can see for yourself. I wish you would treat him better. He has done so much for you, he does so much for you, and us.” The woman ignored her. “I’m sure you have your reasons for distrusting him but he won’t hurt you, not now. And I won’t let him either.” Casca stood and before Farnese realized what was going on walked to the stairs. Water dripped from her body as she ascended towards the house.

“Wait,” called Farnese. “You can’t just walk around naked…” The woman disappeared. Farnese scrambled out of the tub then wrapped herself in a white cotton towel. She grabbed another towel then bounded up the stairs. A naked Isidro hung from vines at the top. A small blood trickle dripped from his nose as he watched the naked Casca looking up at Guts on a balcony.

“Hey come back here,” said Farnese as she approached the woman. Serpico dangled a chess piece over a board as his face turned beet red. A golem watched on the other side, its goofy face flummoxed by the bodyguard watching the woman. Guts looked down at Casca just in time to see Farnese wrap her in a towel.

“That isn’t ladylike behavior,” scolded Farnese. Casca cooed at Guts and for a second Farnese imagined it meant ‘I’m sorry.’ Everyone’s eyes were upon them.

“Ex-excuse us,” said Farnese. She pushed Casca towards the stairs as the woman let her towel hang uselessly about her shoulders. The naked Isidro watched the women disappear before Schierke hit him about the head with her staff and he turned away.

“Ehhh ah,” said Isidro. “Hey!”

The towel dropped on the ground as Casca headed for the spa again. Farnese pulled her away by the wrist.

“A proper young woman does not simply walk around naked in mixed company,” said Farnese. The white night gown slid down over her head. Casca knew what was going to come next so she tried to fight away. Farnese put her hands on her hips, tilted her head and huffed and the woman sat defeated. The brush moved easily though the woman’s normally knotted hair. Casca’s arms shot in the air with a massive yawn. The night grew late and they were safe for once. Without the constant adrenaline of near extermination racing through her veins, she too could feel the pull of sleep weighing on her.

“Ok,” said Farnese. The women stood then took the stairs back up the landing. Isidro was no longer hanging there. They took the next flight up to the landing where Guts was a minute ago. Flora sat by herself looking up at the stars. Farnese took Casca into the guest bedroom off the balcony. Isidro snored loudly from a bed. Gut’s armor sat in a pile in the corner next to all their bags. She brought Casca to the open bed furthest from the exit, tucked her in and the woman was out instantly. She kissed Casca’s forehead, ran her fingers over her head then walked out.

The ex-witch hunter sat next to the old witch wanting to ask her about the tree. The strange energy that ran through it, the denser air, the water that was always warm despite nothing keeping it so. Even the plants around them seemed full of magical properties. Yet, the guilt and shame of what she had done kept her from asking so she just sat in awkward silence wondering if she should apologize again.

“You are very perceptive,” said Flora. “The spirit tree is a special place that exists in the space between the Astral and physical world. This is one of many that exists all over the world. They are as old as time and act as a sort of stitch that holds together the interstice that separates the different levels of being. Without them the astral world would flood into the physical world like water from a vase full of holes.”

Chapter 7: A Village Besieged

A tense Casca flinched every time Schierke put the quill to her chest as though she were carving the charm into her flesh instead of drawing it. Schierke’s normally large eyes looked comically oversized under thick eye glasses.

“Please be still,” said Schierke. Farnese’s arm cradled Casca’s head as she ran her hand across her cheek. The quill met her flesh and she yelped.

“There, there, precious, it’s okay,” said Farnese. The Quill clinked on a tray then Shierke rubbed the sweat from her brow with her puffy brown sleeve.

“She isn’t going to like this part,” said Schierke. Farnese held Casca in place by the neck as the young witch scooped a white powder from a bowl.

“This might sting a little bit but…,” said Farnese. The powder covered hand touched Casca’s brand before Farnese could finish. The unnaturally strong woman easily slipped her hold howling in pain. Her chair screeched then fell over. The witch scooped up her calligraphy set just in time for Casca to flip her small table.

“Is everythin’ alright over there,” asked Guts. The woman stopped rampaging at his voice.

“Everything is fine,” said Farnese. Schierke disappeared behind a divider separating the men from the women then returned with a jar of off white cream.

“This is a balm made by my mistress called Femme Fatale ointment that will make it easier for you to sense spirits. Please apply it liberally,” said Schierke. She handed the jar to Farnese before disappearing behind the screen again. The strange cherry paste left a warm tingle. The balm slathered her arms, shoulders, and back while a curious Casca watched. After the ordeal with the talisman, Casca eyed the cream with suspicion. But once she smelled the cherry odor and saw it would not hurt her, she let Farnese apply it without further complaint.

They redressed then walked over to the boy’s side. A shirtless Serpico and Isidro rubbed the balm on their chests while Schierke drew on Gut’s brand. Serpico’s muscles glistened under the ointment, flexing as his skin tightened around the bulges and lines. He stretched to reach his back but his hands missed a large portion.

“Do you need help,” asked Farnese. His eyes squinted shut as though she caught him in some kind of forbidden act. Farnese smothered her hand then rubbed his shoulders before moving slowly towards the small of his back.

“M’lady, I already,” said Serpico. He trailed off as she brought her hands away from him for another serving of balm.

“That does it,” said the witch, “Sealed with purification salt.” The girl rubbed the white powder on Gut’s brand. His face contorted in pain. “It is not on the same level of my mistress’ talismans, but the brand should not attract evil spirits for two or three days.”

“I look forward to that,” said Guts. Schierke walked to a pile of weapons, a cloak and ointment jars on a table.

“Are you ready over there,” said Schierke. Serpico walked away from Farnese. Her hand lathered in the cherry smelling ointment hovered in the air. Couldn’t she have waited a few minutes more? Casca sniffed her fingers.

“Hey, I need some too,” said Isidro. The boy wiggled his back at Farnese. Ointment covered fingers connected with a wet slap and the boy jumped forward. “HEY! WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA?” Guts laughed as Farnese walked to the table. “What’d I do?”

“Now is a good time to explain the things I will give you,” said Schierke. “Magic Fetishes. They are magic arms granted the protection of spirits. I borrowed them from my Mistress. With these, everyone should be able to confront the trolls, even without spell casting. First, for Serpico, this hood and sword.” A gray cloak fluttered in the girl’s hands. Small white creatures vaguely resembling angels jumped out of the fabric before flying back into it. The cloak fluttered like being carried by a breeze as he examined it.

“What is this hood,” asked Serpico, “it floats on its own.”

“Please look at it closely,” said Schierke. Serpico’s eyes opened wide.

“OH,” said Serpico, “I faintly see something. Shapes like transparent winged insects.”

“Yes, these are wind elementals,” said Schierke. The cloak snapped the fell down straight.

“Elementals,” asked Isidro.

“The four states inherent to the physical world, solid, liquid, vapor, and energy, are all resonant with the workings of elementals in the astral world, respectively earth, water, wind and fire,” said Schierke. “These little ones are the ethereal forms of the atmosphere that fills this world, spirits of the wind that blows about the sky.” The cloak pulled over his head then fell down his body. An explosion of sylphs fluttered around him as his hair lifted.

“That is the sylph hood, a fetish granted the protection of the elementals. He who wears it is clad in atmospheric current and can sweep aside swords and arrows,” said Schierke. The witch handed Serpico a sheath with a green handled sword capped by a crude carving of an eagle’s head. The feather like sword swirled with more sylphs. The blade moved about the air creating a small whirlwind at his feet that pushed around dust. “Also granted the wind’s protection is the sylph sword. The blade is made from a white shouldered eagle’s feather and the hilt from mistletoe growing on the highest branch in the forest. One swing can generate a whirlwind that can tear the enemy’s flesh without even touching it.”

“Might I give it a try,” asked Serpico.

“Please,” said Schierke. The feather slashed diagonally towards a candle stick sitting before potted plants. The flame flickered then went out as the plants blew backwards then rustled into place. Puck picked up the top half of the bisected candle.

“OH,” exclaimed Isidro, “NEAT! OH NEAT! WHERE’S MINE! WHERE’S MINE!” The young witch sighed then picked up a swollen bag and a sheathed dagger. She looked at the items as if to say ‘is giving you this really a good idea’ then handed them to a deflated Isidro.

“Eghhhhh, a dagger,” said the boy, “Don’t I get a sword or a spear too?”

“We have no arms for children to use here,” said Schierke. Isidro unsheathed the dagger and the glowing red blade illuminated his face. Small lizardesque creatures like the ones she saw floating on the air during the purges swam in and out of the metal.

“This dagger,” said Isidro, “It’s glowin’ all red. What the? What’re these small squirmin’ things? Lizards???”

“Those are fire elementals,” said Schierke, “Salamanders. The blade of the salamander dagger is magically crafted from molten lava. Cuts made with that dagger will ignite and burn as if struck by a hot iron.”

“Hmmmm,” said Isidro as he rubbed his chin. The boy stabbed the table top. Sparks flew as black smoke rose from the charred wood. The blade tip ground smoldering circles. What was this boy thinking? He was going to burn down the tree...

“DON’T DO THAT STUPID,” yelled the girl smacking the table with her fist. The boy removed the dagger then held it close to his face. The salamanders swirled in a small vortex as a sadistic smile spread across his lips. “Salamanders are hooligans! It is dangerous! Don’t brandish it so recklessly!” The boy sheathed the dagger then opened the bag.

“So, what’s this,” said Isidro. Small red berries fell from the pouch.

“Those are consecrated berries. You can scatter the trolls if you throw those at them. Those are best for self-defense,” said Schierke. The boy removed a berry, smelled it then popped it into his mouth.

“Blehhh,” said Isidro spitting it out.

“If it were up to me, I would not bring along someone as unbridled as you,” said Schierke, “but it is my mistress’ command so oh well. Please do your best not to get in the way like you did before.” The young witch looked away from the boy hunching over the berries with a scowl on his face.

“SAY WHAT,” said the boy. Isidro lunged for Schierke’s back then fell backwards as Serpico grabbed his collar. “I-I’m about to get in your way now!”

The girl lifted up a long chain-mail shirt. Isidro raged at the young witch ignoring his fury.

“For our two ladies, Farnese and Casca,” said Schierke, “silver chain shirts. Silver has strong talismanic properties.” The heavy silver shirt fell down below Farnese’s knees. Casca squirmed as Farnese eased her into the stiff shirt. “Also a silver knife for Farnese.” A crescent moon capped an ornate silver handle. The blade faintly glowed in her hand before disappearing into the sheath.

“When the time comes to use the fetishes, please envision the faint figures you see now as clearly as possible. Their efficacy is realized by the strength of your faith in their astral power. And if you use this power, do not forget to appreciate the elementals! In the end, the power of the fetishes depends on them, not you. Also the deeper the mutual trust grows, the more power they are likely to lend you.” The young witch picked up a black battle axe covered in glowing red runes.

“Finally, I have this for Guts,” said Schierke. The heavy axe wobbled in her unsteady hand.

“I don’t need it,” said Guts.

“But why nooot,” whined Isidro, “What a waste! I’ll take it!”

“No, I’m Fine,” said Guts. The axe slammed onto the table rattling the jars. “I want to take into battle what my hand knows best.” The Black Swordsman gestured to his sword.

The boy jumped onto the table, grabbed the axe with both hands then pulled it up to his shoulder with a grunt. The weight caused him to stumble backwards and drop the Axe. The table upended and the jars shattered on the ground.

“My potions! You IDIOT,” yelled Schierke. “Ugggg!” Farnese pulled the dagger out. Small white wings appeared in the glowing blade for an instant before disappearing.

“What kind of elementals do we have,” asked Farnese.

“Silver is a pure, natural element that has its own properties,” said Schierke. “Astral beings can not touch it in the same way we could not touch fire. You don’t have to beseech spirits for thier power. It will just work.”

“The sun’s coming up, let’s get moving,” said Guts. Farnese stared at the dagger wondering why she didn’t get a magical item like everyone else. Did someone who didn’t even know her like Schierke not trust her with magic? Was this retribution for her past? Farnese laughed at the thought that she would be treated with the same caution as Casca. A small moth-like spirit stirred in the blade then vanished.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Even the sunshine by the spirit tree felt different. The rays provided a clear, bright light that gave the world a crispness Farnese had never seen. Her mind was calm. Her body had a light tingling energy. Songbirds crooned from among the spirit tree’s branches. A rabbit hopped by, stopping to look up with a quizzical fluttering of its whiskers before hopping on. Was this the effect of the femme fetale potion or a soothing property inherent in magic?

“This is a mysterious place,” said Serpico looking up at the tree house. “I have never seen such a large tree before. Despite it being winter, it feels warm. The scratches and bruises I had are gone.” Morgan rubbed his forehead where it had been bleeding the day before.

“Why, mine too,” said Morgan.

“Your physical bodies have adjusted to the forms of your essential ethereal bodies,” said Schierke, “while you are here minor wounds and new wounds generally heal. We are in the astral world here. The interstice straddles the astral world and the physical world. Due to the cursed power of the brand, you exist primarily in the physical domain of the interstice where the astral world is perceivable. This forest is a slightly deeper astral domain of the interstice that one may yet enter physically. To use an analogy, it is like the shoreline to the sea.”

“Be that as it may,” continued Schierke, “so long as the mistress of the mansion does not invite approach, regular humans cannot visit here. Even to the eyes of those with strong extrasensory perception, at best it should appear to be a mirage. But you who are in the same layer reached it without any problem.” The small witch pointed out a spiral carved into a tree.

“Then this is,” said Puck holding a halo over Isidro’s head. The boy’s mouth fell open as a sweat bead ran down his cheek.

“The afterlife,” finished Serpico. “You mean we had a near-death experience without even knowing it?”

“In a sense,” said Schierke, “Living death may be more accurate. In the physical world this tree rotted about two hundred years ago but while it lived it was the focus of worship for all arboreal animists in this region. The stronger the power of existence is in the physical world, the longer and more splendid its shape will be fixed in the astral world. Occasionally it takes on a monstrous form though.” Farnese thought of the beautiful man from the tower of Albion. Was that why he had such a commanding presence? Was he the manifestation of the longing of all the people who lost their lives? Did the blackness consume the hopeless and give form to that being? Sacrifices used to create their savior…

“The majority of magic users have established their residence in this layer of the interstice,” said Schierke. “The limitations of the material world are long fixed in a weakened state here. So controlling matter with the power of our minds becomes easy. If you become a great magician, you can even fly in the sky!”

“For real,” asked Isidro, “sounds fishy.”

“Mistress, could not Casca at least stay here in your keeping,” asked Schierke.

“I appreciate your idea, but not once has any good come of leavin’ her behind,” said Guts, “I know this place is safe, but you can’t be certain about anything.”

“But,” exclaimed Schierke. Clay shattered. Casca spun a small golem in a circle. The golem teetered dizzily before falling down. Another approached with its arms held out then hugged Casca’s leg. She stepped out of it’s hug. The golem’s arms reached up and she mimicked the gesture. The golem’s goofy face looked confused as it stepped forward only to be mimmicked by Casca. The guard unwittingly danced with her and Farnese couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you prepared too, young lady,” asked Flora. The whole party watched her watch Casca.

“I,” said Farnese. She didn’t feel ready. Would she ever be ready for an adventure like this? It seemed that she did best when just thrown into a situation. “I am!” What was the point lying to a person who could read her thoughts? “I – I cannot be very useful. No… Rather I might get in the way but…”

“You can protect Casca,” said Guts. His confident, cool smile filled her with a pride she didn’t deserve.

“A… All right!,” said Farnese. Serpico watched her behind his stoic wall, a slight frown pulling down his lips.

“C’mon,” exclaimed Isidro waving the magic bag towards the exit path like a general waves a saber. “Lets hit the road! We’ll kick those monkey’s around!” He marched into the woods.

“Well, I shall return,” said Schierke fiddling with her hat.

“May the blessing of the spirits be upon you all,” said Flora.

The party followed the small witch down the path away from the spirit tree.

“It’s hard to believe that a place like this exists in Paneria, practically in the shadow of The Holy See,” said Farnese. Did the Holy See know magic had such power or that magic users were such kind, peaceful folk?

How could they find fault in such people? The world had so much to gain by the inclusion of magic. Serpico stared off into the woods. Guts and Isidro argued well ahead of the slowly walking pack. Casca reached for the tip of Schierke’s hat then stuck it into her mouth. Farnese pulled the woman back then held her by the arm as they walked through the woods. Morgan laughed, his gaze lingered on Farnese for much longer than made her comfortable.

“What is your village like,” asked Farnese. The man smiled at her.

“Oh,” said Morgan, “It’s a quiet town where people mostly keep to themselves. We’ve a certain way about living that would seem quaint, if not simple to a city girl like you.” Farnese gasped then looked to Serpico for advice but his gaze was off in the distance. Schierke seemed to not notice or care and Casca just enjoyed the stroll connected to her arm. The man laughed again.

“It’s not every day I get to meet the Princess,” said Morgan, “From the moment I saw you, you were too healthy to be a peasant. You had a glow about you that could only come from a lifetime of being cared for. I didn’t know for sure until they called you Farnese, it’s not such a common name after all.”

“You have a keen eye,” said Farnese, “You’re only the second person to recognize me since the dissolution of the Holy Iron Chain Knights, normal person anyway. I suppose I should become more cautious the closer we get to Vritannis. Were you affected by the purges?”

“No, M’lady,” said Morgan. “My village is too small and unimportant to attract the eye of the Holy See.”

“Unfortunately many small and unimportant people suffered because of us,” said Farnese. “I’ve since renounced my name and vocation and hope that you will keep my identity a secret.”

“Yes, Farnese,” said Morgan. His face wrinkled when he smiled in a way she found mature but charming.

“Old man,” called Guts. Morgan turned serious and hurried to a waiting Guts. “How long until we reach your village?”

“Not far,” said Morgan before he disappeared out of hearing. The forest path wound between budding trees vibrant with chirping birds. Small animals frolicked around the ground. A curious squirrel watched the party then took off up a tree when Casca tried to pick it up. Spring would soon be upon them followed by the pleasures and hardships of warmer days.

The forest path exited to a country highway surrounded by pasture lands emanating an overpowering smell of rotten meat. The party compacted the further they went. The men held one hand on their weapons. Serpico hid behind his stoic wall. Guts looked on edge. Casca held her arm so tightly Farnese feared she would bruise in her iron grip. A cow skeleton laid in a brown black mud filled with blood and fur chunks. A broken in half femur laid far away from the mass. Serpico hopped a wood panel fence to examine the skeleton.

“Teeth,” said Serpico. Dozens of dead animals scattered about the field. Farnese hung back by the fence with Casca as the men and Schierke walked further on. A little girl walked with the men as though there was no problem while she cowered behind. Farnese pulled Casca ahead, not willing to be left behind by the group any longer. Serpico stooped over a small corpse. A broken staff laid in shards by a blood soaked robe. The shepherd’s head laid broken open like a melon with his brain missing.

“We need to hurry,” said Morgan.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

An empty stone tower on a hill just outside the city limits overlooked the small street leading to the secluded village. Morgan’s village grew around a small river cutting through a valley where two mountains met deep within the woods. Two dozen ancient brick row houses lined a moss speckled cobblestone boulevard capped by a main square. A white wood paneled church towered over the other buildings from a hill between the main square anda river cutting the town in half.

The party crossed a stone bridge and continued north towards the looming church. Voices rose from a crowd behind the building. A stone archway capped the cemetery entrance behind the church.A crowd chattering around two coffins in a hole quieted as Morgan approached while the party hung back by the entrance. Schierke hid from the crowd’s behind Guts. An uneasy look resembling sea sicknessspread across her face.

A sour looking Priest stood at the grave’s head. The skinny man with an abrupt, angular face looked over Gut’s party scowling.

“Everyone,” called Morgan. A young man ran to Morgan followed by several villagers.

“Morgan,” called the young man, “old man Morgan, you’re all right!! Where are the others?”

“Well, we were attacked by trolls in the forest. One way or another…,” said Morgan. He hugged the young man then moved to the grave, “Whose coffins?”

“Ted’s and Horace’s,” said the young man, “Hannah got carried off. Ted was attacked while standing guard at the livestock barn and when she rushed over to save him Hannah was raped! Horace stabbed one with a pitchfork trying to rescue his sister and then a whole pack ganged up and beat him to death.”

“All that was left of Ted and Horace was mince meat,” said a gray haired man, “What cursed timing. They were only married four days ago. And Ted and Horace were best friends. The three were brought up like siblings and all. Damn it!! They do such vicious things! They don’t think of the village as more than a food trough!” Trolls raped that poor woman. Farnese could only imagine what horrible things were happening now that they carried her off. Guts watched the crowd with a discontent scowl, his one good eye focusing hard on the grave.

“I realize its a time of mourning everyone, but,” said Morgan. A fat man with a bushy beard wearing a fur lined overcoat reached towards Morgan.

“What was the end result,” said the man.

“Chief,” said Morgan, “Those people there are them.” The pressure of fifty eyes suddenly cast upon Farnese.

“Wassap,” said Isidro lifting his hand.

“You all are…,” said the crowd. “Hey ones a child!” “They’re from the spirit tree forest?” “Who’s that big man?” “A Servant?” “L-look at that... Elves!” “Elves! They’re elves!” Puck looked around as though they were talking about someone other than him. Ivalera put her hands on her hips then scowled at the bewildered Puck.

“If she has things queer as elves with them, she must really be a witch,” said the Chief. The large man pointed at Farnese and Casca clinging onto her arm. “So one of those two must be…”

“No people,” interrupted Morgan walking back to Guts. “The honorable witch is right here.” The Black Swordsman stepped aside to reveal Schierke who shielded her face from the crowd with her hat.

“H… hello,” squeaked out the young witch so quietly Farnese could barely hear her.

“Say what,” yelled a person from the crowd. “Impossible…” “A child like here?” “This is a joke right?!”

“Morgan, whats the meaning of this jest,” asked the Chief. The big man leaned into Morgan’s face to meet him at eye level.

“It’s no joke,” said Morgan. Isidro laughed, put his hands behind his head. Schierke frowned at the crowd grilling Morgan.

“WeeeLLLLLL,” said Isidro, “Can’t blame ‘em. Why not show ‘em a shot of magic? To help ‘em get it?”

“I can do no such thing,” said Schierke. “It’s absurd, using magic that way. To satisfy one’s own vanity.”

“I told you as much, village chief,” called the Priest. The villagers stopped bickering as the skinny man in the white robes walked through the crowd. “Relying on dubious superstitions like witches will not resolve our present state of affairs one bit. Will it not rather result in the needless addition of victims? Even so, Morgan, making a child like her wear a witch’s get up… It is likely a deed born of a sense of guilt at being the only one to survive but also excessively thoughtless.”

“N.. no,” stammered Morgan.

“But Father,” said the Chief, “they have elves along with them.”

“Do you think such things have the power to defeat those evil beasts,” said the Priest. “With that getup, are you people traveling performers? Did Morgan appeal to you on your journey? No wonder… pretending to be witches and practicing dubious divination must be your forte.” The crowd murmured with doubts. The man’s faith reminded Farnese of hers when running the Holy Iron Chain Knights. Guts watched silently. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Her eyes appealed to Serpico. His head shook gently when his stoic gaze met her pleading eyes. “However, it would not be wise to stick your noses into this. I don’t know if you’re on a pleasure jaunt or what but those evil beasts are not the sort of thing you can deal with. Leave this place at once.”

“B… But, Father,” said the Chief, “After a close look, doesn’t that big man look quite powerful? We are short handed right now, so to turn them away would…”

“None of that,” interrupted the Priest. “This is a test given by God to this village. All we can do is pray and endure.” The arrogant man turned away from the villagers and Farnese wanted to put her boot up his ass. The insolent, self serving smugness. God did not answer the call of pilgrims at Albion and would not answer the call of the villagers. Farnese met eyes with Serpico again. The priest needed to see reason. He needed to know that they were the help he sought and God, to the extent that he would intervene, already had.

“I… I will handle this,” said Farnese.

“Lady Farnese,” whispered Serpico holding a hand over his mouth.

“He might understand if I drop the name of the court supreme,” said Farnese.

“You mustn’t,” said Serpico. “We secularized ourselves of our own accord. If we are not careful, a search warrant may be issued by the Holy See regarding the Albion incident.” Farnese had no doubt that the Holy See, or at the very least her father, already had people looking for her. Removing this barrier was the least she could do to help but she sighed instead for Serpico was right. They may win the battle against this clergyman but it would end with her being taken in again by her father. He may even eliminate Guts to keep her from seeking him.

Farnese didn’t notice Casca leaving her arm as she talked with Serpico. The woman had not left the stone archway towards the Church nor was she with the party. Where could have she gone this time?

“Girl,” said the Priest, “Even if that getup is for acting, you mustn’t assume such an appearance. Were this the Holy City, you would hardly escape being burned at the stake. Witches and the like are nothing but symbols of apostasy and wickedness. The heretic purges have only grown worse since the decimation of the Holy Iron Chain Knights and the disappearance of Lord Vandimion’s only daughter.” Hands bobbed over the crowds head from the graves in a strange dance before disapearing.

“OoooOOOOhhh,” yelled Casca followed by wood smashing.

“Hey, what are you doing,” came out of the crowd. “Cursed!” “Out of there, Now!” Casca stood then looked up at the crowd bewildered. Blood stained the back of her robe. Farnese ran to the grave’s edge with Guts. Her hand covered her mouth, partially from the embarrassment, partially from concern for Casca and partially from the grotesque chunk filled paste that used to be a human by Casca’s feet.

“Ooooo,” said Casca. The wood cracked and she stumbled forward then laughed. Her feet stomped to break another board then she laughed again.

“Sorry,” said Guts as he pushed through the crowd. The giant man lifted Casca out of the grave with one hand. Her eyes grew large.

“Ahhhggg,” screamed Casca as Guts put her on her hands and knees on the ground. The woman stood, pounded Gut’s breast plate with her palms then looked around frantically.

“Casca,” called Farnese. Gut’s hand pushed her when she turned towards the voice. Casca stumbled, lost her feet and flew into Farnese’s waiting arms. Her sniveling, frantic breathing calmed as Farnese ran a hand through her hair. “There, there, everything is okay.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, you see how it is,” said Guts. The silent crowd watched the Black Swordsman unsure of how to process what they just witnessed. Why didn’t Guts want to talk about what happened between them? Casca couldn’t talk about it. Yet, this mystery affected the group at a fundamental level. Could Guts be the reason Casca was like this and that is why he feels such responsibility for her? Was Guts a monster after all?

“Long journeys with the sick and kids’re really tiring,” said Guts, “Could we have a place to stay for the night?”

“Nay,” barked the Priest. “This is no time for…”

“She’s a pilgrim praying to regain her health,” interrupted Guts. “It’s customary that the church show charity to pilgrims.”

“I’m not responsible for what happens,” said the sour faced Priest. Farnese rejoined the party by the stone archway.

“We owe you one,” said Guts. A breeze ruffled his cape revealing the dragon slayer. The crowd murmured in disbelief.

“Look… look at THAT sword,” said a man. “A-amazin’!” “Is it real?” “That left arm!”

“Father,” asked the Chief.

“Prepare lodging for them, Chief,” said the Priest. The party followed Guts into the church courtyard.

“That was good thinking,” said Serpico.

“Let’s go,” said Guts. “It’s bad to hold up a funeral.”

The little witch looked up at Farnese clutching Casca, her eyes on the verge of tears. Farnese smiled at her and the girl looked away when she noticed. He followed them into the courtyard.

“Please wait,” called the man, “Follow me, if you may.” The priest overtook the group then continued towards the town square. Schierke shrunk away as he passed. “I don’t know who you people are, or what you think you’re doing but this is no place for make believe. The trolls are real as is the death. Only God can contend with a force so overwhelming. You may have convinced that gullible old man but I and the town patriarchs remain unconvinced. I do not speak these words for my own comfort but this town does not need nor want to see more corpses so please do not do anything stupid.”

“Listen here, old man,” said Isidro. Guts shot him a look that could freeze stone and he stopped talking.

“Insolence,” said the Priest. “We are extending the use of Hannah’s home to you until she should be recovered.” They took the dilapidated stone street to a home on the city limits. The Priest opened the door then walked away without a further word.

“Asshole,” said Isidro before raspberrying. The boy entered followed by Serpico, Guts, and the elves. Farnese grabbed Schierke’s wrist as she walked past.

“Was…” said Farnese. How could someone ask such a question without offending? “Was that the first time you met regular people?”

“No, well, yes,” said Schierke, “I mean, I have read about them before in books. And seen them from afar but that was the first time I’ve seen such ugliness up close. Every witch learns of the doctrine of the Holy See but… such blindness…” The overwhelming desire to apologize hit Farnese but she was not sure what she was apologizing for.

“I’m sorry,” said Farnese. The young witch’s wrist pulled from her grip.

A settee by the window sagged under Gut’s weight. Farnese added her backpack to a pile at the entrance of the sparsely decorated room. A vase of fresh wildflowers sat on a small table. Isidro laid on a bed with off white sheets until Casca flopped on it and he tumbled off. Serpico removed a grate from the clean fireplace. Neatly tethered black curtains exposed clean windows. Everything had a place in the meticulous, clean apartment. Her group would undoubtedly ruin the cabins cleanliness before the woman’s return. The woman… No Hannah was in the clutches of those dreadful beasts. Already raped once, God knows what they did to her. She thought again of the raped women and gasped covering her mouth.

“We need to look for Hannah, immediately,” said Farnese. Guts looked back out the window.

“Forget it,” said Guts.

“What do you mean,” said Farnese, “you know what trolls do to women! We found that den you killed all those years ago. If we leave her to them she will endure a fate worse than death.”

“She’s already dead, or will be by the time we find her,” said Guts, “we need to start thinkin’ ‘bout savin’ the village.”

“But…,” pleaded Farnese.

“I learned long ago,” said Guts, “You can’t save everyone. Those who try end up not savin’ a damn thing.” The young witch cleared her throat.

“Everyone,” said Shierke holding up strands of hair, “please tie this around your finger.” She handed one to each person. Isidro tested it’s strength.

“Hair? Yours? Why this,” asked the boy.

“So that we can use thought transference,” said Schierke. The hair vibrated ever so slightly in Farnese’s hand. Casca eyed it closely then tested the strength in the same way Isidro had.

“Thought transference, sounds fake to me,” said Isidro. Scheirke stared at Isidro who clenched his fist. “Who’s a monkey, you dirty little!” The boy scratched his face then squatted with his fists dragging on the ground. “Oooo, Ooo, ahhh, ahhh.”

“This makes use of a technique called contagious magic in which a part of the subject is used each time the spell is cast,” said Schierke. The monkey boy turned normal again.

“Like cursing someone with a nail or hair,” asked Serpico.

“To a certain extent every human is capable of directly exchanging thoughts,” said Schierke. “Just for that it is necessary to connect their OD, their spiritual magnetism. With those hairs attached to you, your OD fields are subconsciously adhered to mine. Further for those who lack training in the concrete visualization of images, thoughts, before they are given form via letters and words, are vague and inconstant.” Puck tied the string onto Isidro’s finger and he stared at it. “Until you are accustomed please sound out the words distinctly in your mind. If you master thought transference, the communication of intent far beyond that of normal conversation becomes possible.”

“Just with you or anyone else,” said Isidro.

“That is impossible so soon,” said Schierke. “And so,” Schierke cleared her throat. “in regards to this troll slaying, I want everyone to abide by my instructions.”

“COME AGAIN,” yelled Isidro. “That ain’t funny! Just ‘cause you can use a little magic, you’re gonna act like our leader?!? Who’s gonna be wrapped around the finger of some little goody goody like you?”

“It makes the most sense,” said Schierke. “Being the magic user, I am the only one who can grasp the entire progress of the battle and convey it to everyone.”

“She has a point,” said Serpico rubbing his chin. “When it comes to trolls, a witch is a specialist.” Isidro deflated.

“WELL,” said Guts as though taking exception that he wouldn’t be considered the specialist for fighting monsters. “Fine by me. The brute slayin’ was her job in the first place.” Isidro’s shoulders slumped so far she thought he would collapse to the floor. A delighted Schierke smiled.

“GODDAMN SONUVA BITCH,” yelled Isidro as he made for the door. The boy kicked the door open then ran out before disappearing down the street. Puck flew after him.

“What is his problem,” asked Farnese.

“He wanted some say in this,” said Serpico, “as the youngest he is used to not getting a say. But someone just as young as him, and new and being allowed to lead the group. It must have been a blow to his ego.”

“I need to survey the town,” said Schierke. She put on her hat then walked out the door followed by Ivalera. What just happened to their group? Farnese looked at Serpico and he just smiled and shrugged. Now that their party broke apart the odds of an immediate mission was close to zero but she had to try anyway.

“Guts,” said Farnese. The giant man turned from his window. “You saw first hand the horror trolls are capable of, why won’t you help that poor woman?” Guts sighed.

“What happens when we go into the woods, not knowing where we’re goin’,” said Guts, “Maybe we find a trail, maybe we don’t. We find a pile of corpses in an empty cave and come back to dozens more in the village. You OK with that?” Farnese’s eyes burned with frustration. Casca, as though sensing her stress, came over ready to pounce on the brutish man. The settee groaned when Guts stood then walked towards the door.

“I should go scout too,” said Guts, “and find the boy and girl before night.” The door slammed behind him. Farnese took the hair from Casca. The woman’s hand bobbed over her head out of reach.

“Come now,” said Farnese, “it’s not that bad.” She guided the woman to the setee then knelt and took her hand.

“Oooo,” said Casca as Farnese wrapped the string on a finger. The woman jerked her hand away.

“Hey,” said Farnese, “be still.” She pulled her hand towards her.

“Lady Farnese, is it not meaningless to tie the hair on Casca when she does not understand words,” asked Serpico.

“But Schierke said to do so,” said Farnese, “that thought transference sends images. Though I don’t really understand.” Farnese almost completed the knot but the woman pulled away.

“Casca,” said Farnese in her stern, motherly voice. Her hands clapped bringing the woman’s attention back to her. She tied the hair around Casca’s finger. “There, now we’re done. Perhaps I want to believe that regardless of how Casca is now, she too is a person to be treated with dignity like all others. Maybe, in some ways, I see myself in her.”

Farnese took the hair from a bewildered Serpico, cradled his hand as though it was fragile and tied it around his finger. She offered him her hand and he returned the favor as a curious Casca watched on.

“Now we match,” said Farnese holding up her pinky. Casca looked at her pinky then Farnese’s and cooed. “What an exquisite ring you have, M’lady. We’ll be the envy of the town with jewelry so nice as this. All the gentleman callers will be just aghast.”

“M’lady,” said Serpico, “I need to go into town to find some firewood.”

“Ok,” said Farnese, “I will look after Casca.” The woman ran back to the window to look at the woods. A bird chirped in the distance. A small cardinal zipped from a tree top to the ground.

Serpico entered his sack and pocketed a coin and a parchment roll before slipping out the door.

“What do you think he’s up to this time,” asked Farnese.

Casca grabbed her chest and moaned. Farnese barely had time to catch her as she fell. “Are you well?” Casca clutched the robe over her brand.

The little witch’s voice screamed into her head: THEY’RE HERE!

Chapter 8: The Kings of the World

A horn blared from the watchtower over the ravine entrance. Farnese and Casca burst out the cabininto a mob rushing down the boulevard. Serpico stood in the roadway holding the feather duster. His eyes darted to the opening door like a startled cat.

“Serpico,” called Farnese.

“Lady Farnese,” returned the bodyguard. Casca’s breath wheezed out like an asthma attack. They hobbled to Serpico with Farnese’s arms over her shoulders,.

Schierke’s voice entered her mind: THE TROLLS! TO THE CHURCH! The sudden intrusion felt like a violation: Something most unnatural. A peasant woman dragged two small children past them.

“Trolls,” yelled the frantic woman. The horn blared again as more peasants cascaded down the street. A large group evacuated a side street towards the bridge accessing the church yard. A wine soaked man with an unkempt beard and ragged clothing looked at Farnese with the wide eyed gaze she saw far too many times during the purges. His face contorted with pure, uncontrolled terror.

“TROLLS,” shrieked the man. Church bells knelled as the horn blurted again.

“Everyone to the church,” yelled a young man at the intersection where peasants poured onto the main boulevard. “It’s a huge pack of trolls! Hurry!” He waved his arm as more people poured into the street. Serpico took Farnese’s hand and she became aware that her mind was blank and she did naught but observe and fear.

Isidro ran against the crowd.

“HEY GUYS,” yelled the boy. His body quaked with adrenaline. “I heard it! I got that thought transference already, sure is handy… creepy though!”

“We did too,” said Serpico, “Anyway let us go to the church. All the villagers are gathering there.” A screaming mother tried pulling her little girl off the ground. A muscular hairy beast with an oversized nose and hunched back charged them from the alley as two more emerged. Her body shielded the young girl from the oncoming beasts.

“Trolls,” said Isidro. Serpico looked at his sword then closed his eyes. The white insect-like sylphs fluttered his cape. The feather duster cut through the air throwing a fleeting disruption that caught the monster’s attention. The shaggies charged Serpico as his eyes closed and he mumbled.

“Whoa, here they come,” said Isidro.

“I am depending upon you spirits,” said Serpico as he opened his eyes.

A sudden burst of wind ruffled his cloak as dust kicked up in a small whirlwind. His hair blew around in a strong breeze. A white streak burst from the blade. The first troll screamed as the wind cut through its torso with a waterfall of blood and organs. The feather duster sent a white slash that cut off another’s head. The third stared as though it didn’t understand what was going on. Serpico thrust the blade. A sudden wind blew into Farnese’s face as Isidro covered his eyes. A large hole exploded in the third’s chest as though a cannon ball tore through bone and flesh.

Two monkey-men charged Serpico from the alley. The woman cradled her child’s head and closed her eyes as though not looking would make them disappear. A thick white sylph stream flew from the sword forming a whirlwind around the monsters. One’s arm fell off as a leg disconnected from the knee. The corpse broke into pieces as it fell. The second’s arm crashed through a store window as it’s head flew over the building beforepounding into an unseen roof.

“Woah,” said Farnese.

“What… what happened,” said a peasant man from a crowd gathered behind them.

“Sweet,” said Isidro. “He slashed the trolls to pieces without touching them?!?” Another’s oversized nose smelled the air over the woman and her daughter. Serpico’s slash cut the beast’s head in half.

“You are more fierce than I had expected, spirits,” said Serpico looking at his sword. The white sylphs flew back into the blade before it slid into the sheath. This was the first time he used the sword and he was a natural. Everything came so easily to Serpico. Why couldn’t she be more like him? Maybe he should just be more like everyone else! The woman and child struggled to their feet. “Now hurry!” Serpico gestured towards the crowd as the woman hobbled past.

“Thank you,” said the woman. A man embraced her then helped her down the road. A spear shaft hurdled towards Serpico’s head. He tried to quick draw but the spear would hit its mark before he had the chance. A white whirlwind engulfed him ruffling his clothing and standing his hair on end. The spear wobbled then careened off into the roadway. A wind slash bisected the troll standing on the roof. The corpse halves slid off leaving only red streaks where the beast once stood.

What would have happened to the villagers had they went to save Hannah? That woman and her child would have died at least. An army just out of sight crashed through trees and shattered glass. The villagers could have been wiped out unprotected from such an overwhelming force. She thought of Guts and the hard decision he made. Surrounded by the stink of death, her weakness became apparent once again.

“So amazing is real magic,” said Serpico. The sylphs reentered his cloak and sword. “Quite heartening in a fight against monsters.”

“Magic,” called the crowd. “It’s magic! Real magic!”

“Serpico,” whispered Farnese as the sylphs flew around him. For a fleeting moment, the man seemed angelic.

A runty troll carrying a stick stumbled out of the alleythensurveyed the carnage.

“I’ll be damned if you’re gonna have all the fun,” said Isidro unsheathing his dagger. “I gotta test this thing’s power!” The feather duster lifted but the boy stepped between them. “He’s MINE! DON’T JUMP IN!” Beady black eyes watched the boy waggling the dagger over his head. “LET’S GO FIRE!”

Isidro ran through mangled body parts stopping feet away from the runt. The beast shrieked, waved the weapon and bared it’s teeth.

“AH SHIT,” yelled the boy as he ran away. His breath pounded so loud Farnese could hear it. A dozen trolls sprinted out of the small side road. A front runner’s axe just missed the boy’s back as he dodged. “JUST ONE AT A TIME!” The boy dropped on his knees as a spear flew over his head. He crab walked past the spear then ran once more. The crowd murmured as Isidro dipped, ducked and ran for his life.

“Everyone, please hurry and go,” yelled Serpico. The watching people broke into a mad scramble up the highway. Isidro’s hand reached into his vest pocket.

“GO AWAY,” yelled the boy. A red berry scattered the terrified mob as though it were about to explode. Serpico pulled Farnese towards the crowd. Casca’s hand crushed her cartilage as she chased after them. The growing hoard regained its composure then closed on the group. The feather duster slashed and several in the front fell down. A hand full of berries dispersed the front runners only for the growing hoard to fill in the empty line.

“THAT’S NOT CUTTIN’ IT,” yelled Isidro.

“No, indeed,” said Serpico. The monsters descended on the corpses. Jagged teeth tore into the butchered flesh. A club hit a feaster over the head dropping it to the ground. The insatiable meat eaters pounced on the fresh corpse.

“UGHHHH,” said Isidro, “THEY’RE EATIN’ THEIR OWN WOUNDED?!?” The feast gave the humans time to gain a lead. How Farnese wished the monsters would have taken their time to enjoy that meal! But long before she wished them done, the feasting stopped and the chase continued. The massive white steeple loomed over the small stone homes. The slow moving human mob blocked their path as the trolls gained again.

“Well, if you don’t want to end like that, RUN,” yelled Serpico. The little witch watched over the courtyard from the church's roof. A large group mumbled in disbelief as the ravenous hoard poured into the courtyard. The Priest yelled something Farnese could not make out as the waiting mob poured through the church’s doors.

Casca tripped then fell ripping from Farnese’s grip. Serpico and Isidro ran past the fallen woman. The abrupt disconnection stopped Farnese. Her legs planted like lead as she watched the woman sit up. The closing mob would be upon her in any minute inflicting the worst kind of violence once they reached her. A useless Farnese couldn’t do anything to help so why was she walking towards her. Why, despite the screaming in her mind, was she moving?

“Casca,” yelled Farnese. Casca’s hands reached out and Farnese grabbed them then tried pulling the heavy, muscular woman to her feet. The trolls were too close; they would never get away. She needed to save herself but she just couldn’t. Casca’s breath wheezed out in sporadic gasps as her hand clutched the brand.

“OoooOOOO,” said Casca. The pain in her voice cut deep. The woman’s panic became Farnese’s panic: the woman’s fear, her pain, her terror. Farnese wanted to take all of those feelings even if it meant absorbing them. She dropped on her knees then cradled the woman’s head to block her veiw of the closing trolls. A club lifted into the air several steps away.

“Close your eyes, my precious,” said Farnese, “I’ll keep you safe.” Farnese’s eyes closed then she noticed it. Calmness. Her breath was under control. Her pulse did not pound. The pressure that hurt her head in times of great fear and desperation was instead euphoria. Her body would buy enough time for someone to help Casca. The desire to save Casca poured through the silver shirt as a white aura erupted from her body. Her breath puffed out in white steam. The monsters stopped just outside of the frost barrier.

A strong wind blew over Farnese’s head and shrill voices screamed. A whirlwind raged just outside the barrier. Sacred berries flew into the funnel. Terrified trolls scrambled out of the way of the enchanted tornado.

“Are you all right,” asked Serpico helping her off the ground.

“Y… yes,” stammered Farnese. She dragged Casca up by the arm. “Come on, stand up!” The whirlwind died down dropping the berries. The frantic hoard regained its composure then encircled the party just outside the strange aura emanating from her body.

“It would seem the talismanic power of the silver is working,” said Serpico as he held the feather duster ready to strike. “I will open a path for escape, please make for the church.”

“Gonna hog all the fun again, huh,” said Isidro.

“Imbecile,” yelled the Priest, “The hand of man is no match for those things!! BE NOT RASH.”

A wind slash cut down a troll but the group reformed where it fell. Isidro rolled then stabbed one’s stomach. The smell of burnt hair filled the air as the creature lit on fire. Red lizards swam through the muscular flesh leaving black channels like worm holes in an apple. The burning monster screamed, ran off then collapsed outside the group. Yet they still couldn’t get through.

A black streak ran across over sized heads like stepping stones then landed at the party’s rear. The dragon slayer tore a hairy body in half. The sword swung again cutting a troll diagonally through the torso. Farnese could feel the trolls’ terror as they looked upon the giant man. Another slash cut three in half. The bisected torsos fell as blood geysered into the air. The monsters quivered as Guts slaughtered them by the handful. The Black Swordsman was truly a monster among monsters. As though tired of their slaughter, they came to their senses and closed on him. The line between the party and the church thinned as the hoard turned on Guts.

“And that would be why he has no need of magic,” said Serpico. His power was so terrible he could remove the fear that followed them around like a shadow.

“Heh, ignorant saps,” said Isidro, “Bet that opened their eyes!”

“This is our chance,” said Serpico, “Run to the church!”

A wind slash cut down a troll. A thrust blew a hole in the chest of another. Berries scattered the thinning group. The frost barrier punched through the growing hole as they ran towards the church where a stunned crowd watched Guts slaughter like a black whirlwind. Blood and body parts sprayed everywhere amid terrified shrieks.

“D… did you see that,” called out of the crowd. “Wow!” “He’s good.” “That man could drive the trolls out of here!?!” The frost shield died as they left the melee collapsing on Guts.

“I will now use magic to extend a bulwark around this church,” called down Schierke from the roof. “Everyone, please make haste inside.”

“What are you doing up there,” yelled the Priest. “Of all the cursed?!?” The man’s eyes bulged as spittle flew from his mouth. “Chief!! Please go and drag that girl down immediately!” Chief turned to talk among the men standing with him. Farnese dragged Casca up the stairs only to realize Serpico no longer followed. Her bodyguard walked towards Gut’s holding his sword aloft. Isidro followed him pulling his dagger from it’s sheath.

“She said magic,” said the Chief. The Priest watched with stunned disbelief as though he were ready to vomit.

“I saw them. The girl’s companions tore through those trolls without even laying a hand on them,” said a companion of the Chief.

“She’s here with yonder swordsman,” said another companion.

“In that case...,” said the Chief. A detachment broke from the slaughter then ran towards the church. Serpico entered the engarde position while Isidro stood with the flame dagger in one hand and berries in the other.

“ARGHHHH! ENOUGH,” roared the Priest. The men turned to the beet red clergyman. “The fact remains that it’s dangerous here! Everyone inside, hurry!”

Please buy me some time whispered in Farnese’s mind. The young witch bowed her head. The Priest followed Farnese’s gaze up to the witch then scowled. Peasants hurried through the open doors as trolls approached Serpico.

“Lady Farnese,” called Serpico, “Inside as well, please!!! Casca’s care is in your hands!! Isidro, you should just stand back and throw berries.”

“I don’t think so,” said the boy. A wind cutter slashed through three oncoming trolls. One’s arm dislodged from the shoulder as a deep wound blew open another’s chest. The third staggered as the top half of it’s head slid off the still standing corpse.

Two cowered at flying berries as Isidro stabbed one in the thigh. The muscular monster burst into flames then ran in circles as the flame dagger sliced open the second’s stomach. The two flaming trolls sent scared monsters scrambling out of the way. Her friends were truly formidable fighters. Without any training and based purely on instinct, Isidro and Serpico took command of their elementals. Now was not the time for jealousy. She needed to get Casca to safety. Hand in hand, she pushed past the peasant men watching the battle and entered the sanctuary. Women held their hands in prayer from among the pews. An old couple knelt by the massive Holy See Idol at the church's head.

“Magic, real magic,” shouted a man. “They got another! Look!!” The Priest stormed around the church in impatient circles growing angrier with every word of praise.

“Heresy,” said the Priest. “EVIL!” He threw his hands towards the ceiling as though cursing the heavens. “SIN!!” The man no longer looked like a servant of God but like a spoiled child who was finally told that he could not have something. In that moment Farnese finally realized the truth; the Holy See Doctrine did not forbid magic because it was harmful but because it gave power freely to all. Magic made ordinary people extraordinary. The Holy See Doctrine made power institutional and hereditary, consolidating it into the hands of the select few. In a world such as the one the Holy See sought to create, magic committed the greatest sin of all; depriving the nobility of a monopoly on power.

“I will not permit such behavior in this house of the Lord,” shouted the Priest before stomping towards the belfry stairs. The crowd by the door and praying women watched him go. A young acolyte followed behind.

“That fool would cut off his nose to spite his face,” said Farnese. She pulled Casca after him as the crowd returned to the melee outside. The women followed him up the winding staircase to an archway leading to the slanted shingle roof.

“Stop that,” yelled the Priest from just outside the door. He walked towards the young girl’s back. “NO! NEVER! Such a wicked deed before God!” The Priest stopped a few meters away. “Come down from here this instant!” His hand slapped Ivalera to the ground. “I’M TELLING YOU TO STOP!!” His hands reached for her back.

“You are the one who must stop,” called Farnese exiting the archway as she straddled the roof apex. Her insecure footing felt like it could slip any minute. “That girl is attempting to protect the village!!! Can you not see that?” The sour faced Priest turned to Farnese. The young acolyte watched from the side. “With her magic, she can do it. We were saved too.”

“Silence,” yelled the Priest as though unable to control his emotions. “Even should I live until the fullness of my days, if it’s because I relied upon some wicked intervention, what would it mean?” The priest scowled scrunching his face in an intense but familiar way. The rim of his white leather hat shaded his face. “This is the Will of God. This village should entrust all to the fate God has assigned it!” Farnese imagined him a young woman, her winged helmet visor shading her eyes. Her ornate armor glistening. This man was the same as the old Farnese. Sending people to their deaths in the name of God. She had no right to speak; she gave in to the pleasures of the same liquor that had a hold on him. Her head grew heavy as her eyes cast down at his feet. The shame within herself projected on this man was too much for her.

A light tug pulled on her cloak. Casca’s kind eyes had the lightest hint of her former self and like that Farnese found her resolve strengthened.

“So my words mean nothing to you,” said the man grabbing Schierke’s robe. Farnese marched against the insecure footing. There was no time to be unsure. She grabbed his sleeve then pulled back his gaze.

“Let go of her,” said Farnese.

“Don’t interfere,” scolded the Priest as he tried pulling from her grip. Farnese ripped him away by the sleeve. Growling rose from the church sides. A lumpy nose came over the edge followed by hands. A troll carrying an axe fashioned from a large bone dragged itself up. The young witch mumbled strange words Farnese couldn’t understand. The Priest let go as more trolls pulled themselves onto the roof. Glass shattered around the church. So many monsters surrounded the building, Farnese could smell their sour death. The acolyte sought protection in Casca’s arms. A hunchbacked monkey man walked towards Casca and Farnese became aware of just how far she was.

What could she do? Someone like her was no match for the hundreds of monsters surrounding the building. One would be enough to kill her, yet a half dozen roamed and who knows how many more would soon be upon them. She had to protect Schierke from the Priest and Casca from the shaggies. She couldn’t be in two places at once! How could she pick between them? Picking Casca would save her friend but at the cost of the village. Picking Schierke would save the village but at the cost of her ultimate failure and any chance she had of continuing with the Black Swordsman. The indecision and panic welled up so hard, the only thing she could think to do was scream.

“Aiieeeeee,” screamed Farnese and the monsters turned to her.

“Lady Farnese,” called Serpico from the ground. The bodyguard watched her from the hoard in the courtyard then cleared the stairs with a single leap before disappearing into the church like a wispy, fluttering cannon ball.

“I accept this! I am not afraid,” said the Priest. She had to believe in the power of the silver to buy her the minute she needed. Farnese pushed the Priest, he stumbled and slid down the roof then caught himself on all fours halfway between the apex and the edge.

She screamed again, turning the attention of all but one. Farnese’s silver dagger left her sheath before she ran towards Casca. An axe smashed the acolyte’s head. Several monsters pounced on the dead boy while the rest watched the screaming woman as she charged into their ranks. Her dagger swung at one’s head but missed. The blade caught another in the throat. The neck flesh burst into a red mist as though the blood boiled where the silver touched. Farnese’s free arm held the bewildered Casca close as the blade swung frantically at anything that came near.

A white aura exploded from the glowing dagger, engulfing the two women. Her breath puffed out in visible clouds. Shrill screams hurtled at Farnese from the aura’s perimeter. A club came down out of reach. The doe eyed woman looked at Farnese then cooed. The little witch said strange words and Farnese realized she was cut off from her aid. A hairy beast climbed the roof next to her then walked past as though it couldn’t see her. The little witch must have cast an enchantment to hide her presence. A knotty face pushed into the barrier screaming as it turned bright pink. Frost accumulated on it’s fur as its eye froze over. Blood all over it’s fur turned into red ice as it’s putrid breath wheezed from it’s mouth. Its crude axe lifted into the air as it inched forward trying to get close enough to strike. Farnese held the dagger out then closed her eyes trying not to succumb to the panic.

In the end, she wasn’t able to save her friend anyway. Friend… To think that she had friends now. That lonely girl wandering the massive expanse of the Vandimion compound always praying for friends, never thinking she would ever have any. The thought struck her as funny, if not a little sad that after everything they had been through this was how it would end. Her eyes opened when a strange coldness colder than anything she had ever felt approached her hands. A white moth fluttered from the acolyte's corpse as the troll pressed closer. The moth landed on the dagger tip, beat its wings as though to greet her then flew into the last eye. The socket turned black where the insect landed then its lifeless body crumpled. The black frozen flesh where its eye once was cracked upon hitting the shingles.

“Oh Lord, guide me into your presence,” said the Priest. Unable to penetrate the barrier, the monsters approached the Clergyman who backed towards the roof’s edge, surrounded on three sides.

A black aura surrounded Schierke as yellow waves rippled away like a stone penetrating a pond.

“LE ORAHM,” chanted the little witch. A bright white light formed in the sky as tendrils of steaming white fire descended from the clouds. The supernatural beings lit on fire then burned. A warm, pleasurable tingle tickled her flesh as the frozen corpse disintegrated in the purifying whiteness. Monsters scrambled around the roof then flung themselves to the ground as the white aura expanded over the church then the courtyard.

The Priest looked dumbfounded up at the sky as the white fire diffused into a fog-like haze. Schierke’s eyes opened and her hands reached towards the sky as though collecting raindrops.

“Wh-what, what’s happening,” asked the Priest.

“Somehow, I was in time,” said Schierke.

The frost barrier went down as the shimmering aura showered Farnese in warmth like the summer sun. Magic was truly a marvelous thing. To think, something like this existed in the world just out of sight. How she longed to delve into the mysteries of such a thing. Answers to questions she didn’t know to ask were out there just waiting to be explored.

“Lady Farnese,” called a frantic Serpico from the belfry archway. His emotionless stoic face betrayed his bleak expectations. His eyes opened and his lips curled into a slight smile that said ‘thank God you’re unharmed.’ Farnese laughed then spun with her arms open as though she were in a field of wild flowers and soon Casca joined her.

“What in the…,” said the Priest. “Is this something you have done?”

“I told you, I used magic to extend a bulwark around the church,” said Schierke. The Priest fell to his knees as though praying to an idol. The witch stood over the humbled man. “As long as this barrier does not vanish from my subconscious, any ethereal beings that would do us harm within it’s boundaries are expunged.”

“M… magic,” stammered the Priest, “Impossible, I won’t admit it… I… such heresy.”

“This four hued light is spiritual power of Great Beings deep within the astral world who love and protect us,” said Schierke. “It has become manifest in the physical world. Those great beings are the four cardinal guardian angels written of in your Holy Scriptures, the Kings of the World. Whatever different words you use to express them, the sun is the sun and light is light. The mantras chanted may differ, but are not souls in want of salvation all the same.” The young witch spoke to the defeated priest but Farnese wanted to believe the words were for her. A great master gave her a lesson she didn’t understand yet the profound importance radiated from her words like a bonfire. She wanted more than anything in that moment to be a part of Schierke’s world. She longed for magic’s salvation like the desperate masses at Albion reached towards a deaf God. Had she learned nothing? Was this not a hope for something to fill her with it’s strength like she tried in so many ways during her life? No, this was different. When she held Casca in her arms desperate to save her, the magic flowed from within her. She tapped into something primal and visceral.

“To divide and oppress people because of those differences is folly,” continued Schierke. “God’s name belongs only to God. It is not for man to conduct.” Farnese looked at the dagger that had just been glowing white and found within it’s sharp blade the courage to speak.

“But why,” asked Farnese. “Our mantras do not have this kind of power. They do not call forth miracles like your spell.”

“A church is a sanctuary where people communicate with angels or spirits,” said Schierke. “A magician constructs this sanctuary within her own mind.”

“Within her mind,” repeated Farnese. Does her own mind carry with it such horrible power? Could she will such miracles in to being? Did she deserve to wield such power? Surely her blood soaked soul would be poisoned against something so benevolent.

“The spirit is not of this mortal body,” said Schierke, “But exists within the spiritual world, right? As for those who exist as ideas, the mind is all with which we can perceive them. Regarding magic, the user must always consciously envision the figure of the spirit to be addressed distinctly enough to perceive it literally. It is not an attempt to believe in something one cannot see. So long as there is no margin of doubt one can see, feel fully perceive it.” The young witch held her hand up towards the barrier. The white fog-fire swirled, condensed like a snake then wrapped around her arm before disappearing.

“Spiritual perception,” said the Priest. “can this truly be?”

“Yes,” said Schierke catching Ivalera on her finger tips. “Humanity is capable of this. To sense and be sensed, to feel and be felt by those not of this world. Magic, no the arcana of invocation, is not about simply chanting mantras or mediating intently on your own wishes. It begins with recognizing and confronting the counterpart to whom you must impart your thoughts.” As though sensing that her audience didn’t understand her words, the little witch turned away to survey the church courtyard. A hundred trolls chattered and waved their weapons futilely at the little witch from the courtyard just outside the aura. “But then, at the same time there are also great dangers involved.”

The Priest looked down. “I… no,” said the Priest. “I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.”

“Believe or not as you may,” said Schierke, “but the barrier separating the world of spirits and man is breaking. Magic has become a part of your world and will not abide by your refusal to see it any longer.”

Guts stood just outside the hoard’s reach leaning on his sword. A loud crash rose from the homes outside the courtyard. Guts looked up at Schierke then lifted the dragon slayer onto his shoulder. The brick home on the boulevard’s edge creaked then toppled over as a massive beast pushed through. It’s pink wrinkly body was human-esque as it walked on thick legs pushing the fallen structure over with muscular arms. Eyes in the middle of its bulbous head had an unintelligent delay. The monster snorted then lifted a giant tusked snout into the air and roared scattering trembling trolls.

“An ogre,” said Schierke. The ogre’s hand penetrated the white aura barrier trying to grab Guts. His sword readied to strike but the shrieking monster pulled back it’s steaming hand then cradled the reddened flesh. The crowd on the church stairs murmured in disbelief.

“Ohhh,” said Farnese as she gripped Casca. The woman seemed calmed and Farnese wondered if the brand made her unusually sensitive to the aura’s soothing energy.

“It’s alright,” said Schierke, “A mere ogre cannot pass through this barrier.” The monster picked up a beam from the rubble pile. “However…” The wood beam crashed into the church with such force they lost their footing. Schierke caught herself on the Holy See Idol as the Priest fell over. Farnese and Casca steadied each other. Peasants screamed as they ran for safety from falling stones.

“What’s going on,” called Guts.

“The barrier is effective against ethereal bodies,” yelled Schierke, “But it has no effect on physical objects!” The ogre rooted through the rubble then pulled out another beam. Water drops fell from the sky. The white swirling aura masked any clouds. Rain fell in buckets as another beam struck the church front. Farnese and Casca hurtled to the roof as the church groaned then shifted. They slid a few feet down the slick shingles then stopped.

We must create an opening screamed in her mind: A chance for me to cast a spell! The ogre already had another beam in it’s hands by the time Farnese returned to her feet. Guts charged and the beast roared as though accepting a challenge. The Black Swordsman stopped just within the aura then stabbed his sword into the dirt. Torrential rain formed puddles around the muddy courtyard. Guts reached into a pouch on his hip as the ogre taunted him.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s he thinkin,” said Ivalera. Schierke clutched her staff, hugged it to her chest. The roof groaned over the constant pattering of rainfall.

“M’Lady,” said Serpico, “we need to get off the roof before it collapses.” Her eyes met his then she shook her head no.

“I can’t leave her,” said Farnese before looking at the girl.

Guts’s arm flew towards the ogre. An explosion ripped open its overgrown stomach. Blood and viscera sprayed from a massive hole as Gut’s charged. The beam swung, leaving a trail of dead trolls. Guts ducked under the beam then slashed the monster’s arm. Its forearm disconnected at the shoulder showering the Black Swordsman in blood. The ogre threw it’s detached arm at Guts who deflected it with the dragon slayer. The severed appendage crashed into the hoard killing several.

Ravenous jaws chewed on the intestines hanging out of the ogre’s body as it retrieved its arm. The pig-giantshook feasting monsters off the limb then held it to its exposed shoulder. Gut’s charged trying to take advantage of the moment of weakness. The dragon slayer turned just in time to block a water geyser. His body tumbled to a stop among the house rubble. The roaring ogre lifted it’s arms: the severed appendage now fused back onto it’s body. The piggish giant grabbed a hairy beast chewing on it’s organs then mashed it with sword like teeth.

A strange half frog, half pony creature walked around the courtyard from the river. Pouches under it’s throat billowed in and out as it breathed. Orange eyes with thin long pupils bugged outside of a narrow, horse like skull. Green, leathery skin covered in bumps ran all over its body. Webbed feet with four long toes splashed in the mud.

“That’s a Kelpie,” said Schierke. A crude axe swung at the kelpie. The sack like glands swelled then a water beam from its mouth drilled a hole through a troll’s chest. Blood, bones and organs shot out its back as the stream exploded another’s head then knocked bricks off a building.

“By kelpie, you mean the horse that drowns travelers in rivers,” asked Serpico.

“Not just an ogre, but a kelpie,” said Schierke. “Why?” Her hand held the wide brimmed hat down as she looked into the sky. “The rain!! Oh No!!” Guts struggled to his feet using the sword as a cane. The ogre and hoard turned their attention on the frog-horse as it walked towards them. The hunched backs rushed the water-horse. Water balls raised from puddles then shot foward. One by one, the shaggies dropped as though shot by cannon fire. The relentless water volley put the giant on it’s heels. A beam flew towards the kelpie but it skittered sideways out of the way.

Serpico walked to the roof’s edge.

“I will go,” said the bodyguard.

“Serpico,” said Farnese.

“It’s absurd,” said Schierke, “Fighting trolls is one thing but…”

“It’s alright,” said Serpico, “I will buy adequate time so use that chance to cast your spell. Lady Farnese, please do your best to take care of Casca.”

“Right,” said Farnese.

“Well then,” said Serpico as he walked off the roof. Farnese couldn’t reach his sleeve in time to pull him back as he disappeared.

“Ser…,” she shouted but stopped half way through his name. His cape fluttered as a cloud of sylphs gently glided him to the ground.

“He… he flew,” exclaimed the Priest.

“He’s mastered the sylph’s that well in such a short time,” exclaimed Schierke.

“I know right, it’s so annoying,” said Farnese. Serpico drew his feather duster as he walked towards the kelpie. The sword waved in a circle as wind engulfed him, throwing the water away in small tornadoes. His feet left the ground as a breeze howled. Water orbs blew around the floating Serpico. A wind slash flew towards the frog-horse only to be blocked by water pillars shooting from the ground. The kelpie stared down Serpico as Gut’s approached from the side. The other monsters frantically ate the fallen corpses. The two talked then Gut’s walked towards the pig-giant who pulled a beam out of the house wreckage.

“What are you waiting for,” asked Farnese. The young girl looked up at her. Her eyes betrayed a nervousness she did not have with the invocation of the Kings. Why had she not begun yet and why did she tarry further? The girl closed her eyes, held her staff out and chanted.

The support beam swung at a charging Guts. The dragon slayer shattered the beam as Gut’s momentum carried him beyond the ogre. The beast looked at the damaged beam, roared in anger then threw the wood chunk at the Black Swordsman who jumped out of the way. The building’s roof lifted over it’s head then the massive structure fell towards Guts. The dragon slayer cut through the roof then burst the pink chest open as though Guts were unzipping its torso. Organs spilled out the giant hole as the roof crashed around him. The monster screamed then collapsed as teeth tore at its exposed organs like ants on a sugar cube.

A monstrous hand tossed a shaggie at the crowd murmuring from the church stairs. Smoke rose from it’s hairy flesh as it flew into the barrier,then writhed in agony as it burned on the ground. The ogre shoved another into its mouth with a crunch so loud Farnese could hear it over the driving rain and Serpico’s fight. The pink flesh wounds healed as greedy jaws devoured more and more troll flesh.

“What… what a spectacle,” said Farnese.

“Dear lord,” said the Priest.

The rising and falling water wall surrounding the kelpie blocked a wind slash. Wind thrusts prooved just as ineffective. Water shots flew around the sylph wall as the fight ground to a stale mate. Water balls formed at Serpico’s feet. The power of wind carried him meters away just in time for them to sail past. More orbs formed underneath him and he jumped away again. Serpico zigzagged around the battlefield dodging the rapid cannon fire. A long red tongue shooting from the Kelpie’s mouth caught his ankle. A blast caught the immobile man’s shoulder and he tumbled. Serpico scrambled to his feet as more orbs formed beneath him. The feather duster cut through the tongue and the orbs dissolved as the kelpie reared. The tongue shot back to its mouth before dangling as a torrent of blood leaked from the severed muscle. Another wind slash shot at the distracted frog-horse but the water wall reformed to block it.

The injured creature stomped it’s front foot like a horse about to charge. Serpico’s arms opened as he readied for the next attack. Neither made a move until Serpico grabbed for his mouth then fell on his knees clutching at his face. The kelpie walked forward then stamped again. Farnese didn’t know what was wrong but her friend was in trouble.

“SERPICO,” yelled Farnese. Her faithful companion, the man she once thought she would die for, was in mortal danger and there was nothing that she could do for him. Casca held Farnese in her arms as the panic rose. She had to help him, she just had to but what could she do? Serpico slumped onto his hands and knees as trolls surrounded him. The man jumped then hovered in air spinning. Air and water droplets showered the advancing trolls like gun shots. The monkey-men scattered away. His knees crashed into the ground as he gasped. The sudden rush of fear and anxiety dissipated in his safety. Her eyes met with Casca and she thought, just for a second, that she could see warmth within those eyes. Concern even.

“Thank you,” said Farnese. The woman cocked her head, cooed, then re-watched the fight. Was she seeing what she wanted to again? Perhaps she was just seeing what she needed.

A long slash sent a whirlwind towards the kelpie then another. The water around the monster disappeared into blue cyclones. The confused horse looked up at the swirling water trying to gain control again. Serpico charged drawing his rapier from a sheathe on his hip. The thin blade stabbed through the horse jaw then stuck out the top of it’s head. The water fell to the ground then a massive pillar struck Serpico’s chest sending him flying to the shattered home.

“SERPICO,” shouted Farnese. She stood dangerously close to the roof’s edge. Casca pulled her back. Farnese clutched her hand to her chest trying to leech support like she used to with her old rabbit and to her surprise she felt it: a calm energy pulse radiated from Casca.

A house beam flailed at Guts then cut down approaching trolls. The berserking ogre fought blindly, not distinguishing between foe and ally. A wooden spear stabbed at the flailing beast only for it’s holder to get scooped up and devoured. Guts turned from his battle to watch Serpico get to his feet. A massive hand wrapped the Black Swordman. An explosion rocked the big head. The Black Swordsman fell from it’s grip. The injured pig-giant turned back to eating it’s allies.

A dozen water orbs pointed towards a hunched over Serpico. A great wave formed between the water-horse and the prone body guard who looked unable to defend himself or get on his feet.

“SERP…,” yelled Farnese taking a step towards him. Her foot slipped on the wet roof and she stumbled towards the edge. The Priest caught her shoulders then pulled her back.

“You’ll fall, fool,” said the man.

Guts sprinted towards Serpico but he would never make it in time to save him. The wall and shots flew towards her friend. The feather duster lifted as though to block the shots but there were too many. He sat on his knees immobilized watching the attacks close the final meters.

Schierke lifted from the ground chanting that strange language. A woman made of water stood behind the girl mimicking her movements like a blue shadow. Schierke spread her arms and the woman followed. The water wall and shots disappeared into mist as they were about to strike Serpico.

“What, what’s that,” said Farnese.

“That’s a water spirit,” said Ivalera, “Right now Schierke’s become one with the spirit. It’s called possession or something.”

“I am of the water kin,” said Schierke with a high pitched trill, her eyes rolled back until only sclera showed. “The spirit of the rill that doth flow though this land. In accordance with the ancient oath do I cleanse this land of the evil spirits that would stain it. In the name of the lady of the depths, I command the undines with a raging torrent, wash away into the dark depths of the netherworld the wicked spirits that fill this land.” Small blue manta ray like creatures swam around her body. Strange words poured from her mouth as the blue woman merged into her.

The water on the ground recededfrom the courtyard towards the river. The kelpie summoned orbs but they disappeared towards the river. The torrential downpour flew sideways from the courtyard. The constant pattering of rain ceased asan eerie silence took over.

Whirlpools rose from the courtyard sucking up trolls before throwing them through the air. The kelpie looked around frantically; its bloody tongue hung limply from it’s mouth. Serpico’s face ground into the mud while he clutched his ribs. A loud crashing north of the church broke the silence. The river flew over it’s banks as a wall of water smashed through the trees towards the church. A small home broke to pieces. The river carried its roof off like a giant leaf floating on a stream.

Schierke’s arms flew up and down as though she were doing a strange dance. The water spouts chased the scattering trolls with her movements.

“What the…,” said Farnese.

“She’s totally gone,” said Ivalera. The homes down the main boulevard crashed under a wave. The river rose to the south also! The waters destroyed the town where no trolls were.

“SERPICO,” yelled Farnese. She hoped above hope that he could somehow hear her over the roaring torrent heading towards him. “GET TO SAFETY!” Serpico remained immobile on his knees.

“SERPICO,” she yelled. The kelpie ran into the woods only to be flushed out again by a wave. The river waters crashed through the trees just outside the courtyard and Serpico’s head snapped up. The bodyguard jumped fifteen meters into the air then glided down to a roof at the courtyard edge. His feet touched down then he crumpled onto his back.

Guts sprinted towards the Church stairs as the men watching shouted for him to hurry. The water traveling up the main boulevard crashed into the courtyard as a wave burst from the tree line. Guts landed on the steps as the water broke in an unnatural wave away from the church. Schierke’s hands conducted the massive pool. She had some semblance of control after all.

The ogre struggled against the rising water towards the church. The white light from the sky had disappeared and Farnese realized the barrier was gone. Guts jumped from the church stairs and cut through the pink piggish head with an overhand slash. Red clouds filled the raging currents as waves smashed the body to bits. The kelpie struggled in the surging waters until a spike cut its head in half. One by one the turbulent waves snuffed out lives until nothing remained but a sea of corpses.

Guts grabbed ahold of a beam floating along the current. A loud crash boomed from the main boulevard. Serpico’s house fell to pieces tossing the injured bodyguard into the water. Her companion clung onto a beam among the rubble. The feather duster redirected waves threatening to sweep him away.

She… She’s won yet the waters continued to rage. A rage that did not recognize friend from foe. The young witch had completely lost control. Farnese gasped then covered her mouth as the elf looked into her mistress’ face.

“Schierke, that’s enough,” said Ivalera, “looks like you got ‘em all.” The little girl danced as another house smashed in the distance. “Ut oh, this isn’t good.”

“What is wrong,” asked Farnese. The little girl’s white eyes swirled blue then red and blue again.

“We’ve got a little problem,” said the elf walking around the brim of the witch’s hat biting on her finger. “This is bad, her alignment with the water spirit is too strong. She’s become mesmerized. At this rate… She can’t end the spell.”

Farnese grabbed the girl’s shoulders and she stopped dancing.

“Schierke,” said Farnese as she gently shook her.

“Eeek, no don’t,” said the elf waving her hands in Farnese’s face. “If you jolt her outta a spell, d’you know what’ll happen? Schierke’s in the astral world right now. She’s become one with that water spirit you saw and no doubt merged into this flow!! If she were to be woken before her mind returns. It’d affect her body too. If we’re not careful it might not return and then she’d be an invalid!”

“Then what should we do,” asked Farnese. The elf looked around.

“I’m pretty sure when this happens,” said the elf before excitedly pointing at the witch’s staff laying on the roof. “OH YEAH! THIS! Tap the wand in time.” The girl danced again and another house smashed to bits. Farnese knelt with the wand in hand. Casca got on all fours to examine what was about to happen. “Tap the wand at a set rhythm to cause the casters consciousness to focus on the world or that’s what Flora said. The rhythm’s seven seven seven time. Seven three times.

Could she do this? Could she really perform magic? So much rode on her ability to cast this spell perfectly. The pressure was not one Farnese was ready to handle. The staff tapped then paused as she imagined the worst outcomes of her failure: Serpico would drown, Guts would as well. Eventually what little control Schierke possessed would disappear and the whole village would drown. No, that wouldn’t happen because she wouldn’t fail. Everyone needed her. She closed her eyes then took in a deep breath. She must clear her mind. She must concentrate. Her wrists ached from gripping the staff so hard. Her lungs slowly filled with air then released. She took in another deep breath then exhaled. The tension aching her wrists disappeared as the fog over her mind lifted. She imagined Serpico offering her a hand and she took it. It was a simple dance. One where they took seven steps then waited. Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… She let her body count the rhythm as they moved through the dance. Serpico smiled and she totally gave in as the dance continued. Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Seven more then he mouthed something that sent shivers down her spine and they spun lost in each others arms. Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… Bang… The last set completed to thunderous applause. Her eyes opened to find the young witch swaying on her feet, her pupils visible again.

She did it! Farnese cast a spell! The fate of all relied upon her and she rose to the occasion. Another building smashed in the distance. Farnese stood then put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. The confused child met her eyes as a smile broke across her lips. Farnese returned her smile. The church groaned followed by a loud creak then smashes. The ground shifted under their feet as the front wall collapsed taking the edge of the roof with it.

“Ohhh,” shouted Casca as she stumbled. Farnese threw the disoriented witch into the Priest then grabbed Casca’s hand as she tumbled off the collapsing roof. The women plunged into the raging currents. The cold water tasted of blood as the heavy silver shirts dragged them down. Memories of her first time in armor came back to her: the ache on her muscles, every agonizing step, the horrible fatigue. The dull pulling weight of the armor would not take her. So much relied on her.

Farnese clutched Casca as bubbles escaped from the panicked woman’s mouth. She kicked her legs. Within her thoughts she begged the mute woman to do the same and to her surprise it was as though she listened. Farnese and Casca popped through the surface with a desperate breath. A wave battered her head. Isidro stood next to a disoriented Schierke who seemed not entirely out of the spell’s grip.

Safe for the moment Casca wrapped Farnese in her arms. The noblewoman’s legs chopped at the water as she struggled to keep them above the surface. Guts floated several meter’s away on a log reaching for them.

“Grab hold,” shouted Guts. She reached but he was too far. Farnese did all she could just to keep their heads over the water and couldn’t move closer. The currents pushed Guts away. The women drifted closer to the woods.

“What’re you doin’,” yelled Isidro, “Get it together witch!!!” Schierke’s hand shot out and a log floated against the current. Farnese grabbed hold and the intense pressure on her exhausted legs disappeared.

“My love,” said Farnese, “you need to hold on. GRAB IT!!” Casca draped herself over the log. Farnese pinned Casca to the side with her body so that she could not fall off.

“FARNESE,” yelled Serpico standing on the shattered house. The black rain clouds broke in the sky as light rained down upon them.

I’m sorry… I lost control whispered into her mind.

Would you just end it already responded Gut’s voice. The water calmed as the clouds completely evaporated. Sun spots filled her eyes from the sudden blinding white light. A strong current pulled them away from the courtyard.

“AHHHHHH,” screamed Farnese as they picked up speed. The force felt more like falling from a great height then being pulled by water. The log smashed into a tree with such force she felt the vibrations in her bones. The log spun in a circle as they crashed through a branch. Thin branches pelted her back like she was being beaten with a switch despite the heavy silver armor. Trolls stuck in the canopies watched them bounce between trees as they got closer and closer to the ground. Her back slammed into a tree with the force of a battering ram. Her lungs tightened and she couldn’t breath. The log pinned them to the ground. Her feeble strength was not enough to move the heavy wood as her head got lighter and lighter. The muscular monsters jumped onto the muddy ground. The beasts stood over them as darkness overcame her.

Chapter 9: Qliphoth, Land of Darkness

Her metal boots clanked on the stone stairs. The iron chain weighted down her gauntlet-ed hand. A torch cast an orange glow around the spiral staircase that felt like it descended forever. The winged helmet’s blinders focused her attention towards the dark pit where women’s screams howled from the torture chamber.

“You’ve got the wrong one,” said Farnese. The chain went tight when she looked upon Casca’s frightened face. Blood leaked down the brand on her chest visible from her torn collar. Her thoughts desired to free the woman but her feet just clanked down another step. Her hand pulled the chain as though her body and mind were not the same.

“Run,” said Farnese. The woman smiled then kept up with her plodding pace down the steps. “Save yourself.” Casca smiled again. “I’m no good for you… I’m not good enough.” A crash boomed followed by a child’s blood curdling scream. Casca’s hand reached for Farnese’s purple cloak. Was she trying to comfort her? The chain jerked and Casca stumbled ahead.
“You have the wrong one,” said Farnese. “I can’t, I won’t. Please stop.” They reached the staircase’s bottom then continued down the windowless hallway towards the sound of women screaming. Why couldn’t she stop? Casca had suffered enough. Let Farnese take on this burden. But like a coward she dragged her towards her death, unable to stop it. They turned the corner to the devil headed door. Flames shot from it’s nostrils as they entered a plume of smoke that tasted and smelt like roasted human flesh.

“NO,” said Farnese, “I should be in chains. I should be tortured, punished. Let her go. Take me.” The devil door opened dumping blinding white light into the hallway. A grotesque hairy arm reached for the chain.

Animalistic grunting broke Farnese from her sleep. The ground had a strange bobbing movement that took her a moment to realize was the log that flung her the ground. Trolls carried them through a dank cave where only a faint green glow lit the near total darkness. The tunnel branched towards a roaring fire. Women screamed as flesh hit flesh. A sharp pain squeezed her neck as though a hand pressed down on her spine. Breathing hurt as a vice gripped her ribs. An unconscious Casca laid next to her. Farnese took her hand but the woman didn’t react. Footsteps carried down the hall followed by grunts and shrieks.

The log crashed into the floor then slide down a ramp. Farnese tumbled into a warm pool as fighting raged in the corridor followed by feet running away. A glowing florescent green moss filled the cave with a strange candle light. The water reeked of decaying flesh mixed with mildew. Women’s screams echoed around the walls. A blackness crawled around the faint green light with the skittering of a thousand little claws.

“Casca,” said Farnese wiping the hair from Casca’s face. “Oh, my God, no.” Where were they? How seriously was she hurt? How could she save her? Something splashed in the water and the woman’s eyes opened. Casca gingerly sat up with Farnese’s help then rubbed her neck.

The cave walls hissed then wriggled in the darkness. White eyes opened around the puddle like a field of match heads lighting. A snake-like tentacle with a giant eye watched from the water.

Schierke’s voice came into her mind: Casca!! Farnese!!

“Schierke,” said Farnese forgetting the voice was not with her.

Thank goodness! I finally reached you!! said the voice. Both of you are unharmed?

“Yes,” said Farnese, “Incidentally, where in the world…? The air is stagnant….” More tentacle eyes popped out of the water. A black frog-like creature with spider eyes croaked from the cave wall. A glowing slime covered human skeleton with praying mantas arms emerged from the black waters. The yellow light revealed large insect-like creatures all over. A centipede with a half human head chewed on a woman’s arm. Half eaten corpses filled the water.

Farnese wrapped Casca in her arms as the creatures turned to the living women.

“Flesh,” said the half human centipede. “Living flesh.” “Girl.” “Sacrifice.” The punching pain in her ribs caused her to squeal as her breathing grew frantic.

Farnese, please calm down! As long as you wear the silver shirts, no harm will come to you!! said the voice.

That’s easy for you to say thought Farnese. She unsheathed her dagger then pointed the blade at the approaching eye tentacle. The dagger glowed with a faint white light illuminating the cave. The tentacle creature walked out of the puddle on arm-like legs capped with hands. The monster had a long snout attached to a pig’s body. A human-like face smiled from the pig back. Farnese dragged Casca up the ramp as the creature closed on her.

“Casca, climb, quickly” said Farnese. The tentacle eye reached for Casca’s ankle below the silver shirt. The silver dagger cut the tentacle. The creature shrieked before running back down the ramp. They squeezed past the log jammed entrance into the hallway. The faint light of her dagger guided them through the darkness. Farnese fell to her knees once she realized the monsters did not pursue her then wrapped an arm around Casca’s neck.

Are you all right whispered Schierke.

Yes… it was… it was nothing thought Farnese. The dagger stopped glowing when her panic calmed. When she joined Gut’s party and failed to land a single blow, she thought she would never be able to take up a blade. She was too weak and unskilled. Her own strength would never be good enough but now she wielding a blade for the sake of someone else.

With calmness in her mind and body, the pounding flesh and screaming women came into focus. Casca crawled towards the illuminated branch where the sounds originated.

“No,” whispered Farnese but she continued into the corridor. Farnese pulled her back from the entrance. Hunched over hairy monkey-men grunted as they humped women. A campfire burned in the room center as an orgy of rape filled the room with the scent of sweat and shit. Casca gasped then paniced. A pit filled with horrified women and children chattered. “What the…” These poor women. Why would monsters do this? The disgusting beasts were subjecting them to a fate worse than death for reasons that Farnese could not understand in the least. The closest woman looked at her with tear soaked eyes. Blood ran down her thighs as the grinning beast tore through her vagina with it’s penis. How could she stay alive and conscious through this? They needed to do something. They needed to help the women. But what could she do? Surely helping these women would mean nothing but their own deaths. Could she live with herself knowing that she left them to suffer for something as worthless as her own life? Would that be what Casca wanted? The indecision froze her as her head thundered. Her neck pain screamed as tension shook her muscles.

Schierke’s voice came into her mind again: Please remain calm! Don’t move from there!! Don’t attract their attention. A troll pulled a woman out of the pit causing another to fight it. The second troll screamed like a monkey then it’s axe smashed the first’s head with a wet crunch. A screaming woman fell to the ground convulsing before a monster grabbed her ankle and dragged her towards the tunnel.

Farnese pinned Cascato the wall holding her dagger ready to strike. Footsteps grew louder followed by the draggingbody. The knife had one chance to end it’s life before it alerted it’s comrades of their presence.

A skittering black wave poured down the hallway as the dagger turned black. The walls and air swirled around her, falling and raising in sheets. The black roach-like insects tightened around them closer and closer until darkness pinned them to the wall. The black critters swirled in a constant blur of movement. A strange calmnesspoured from the darkness: a primal comfort that defied her attempts to understand it.

The troll dragged a woman’s corpse around the corner then passed by them as though they were not there. The woman’s organs draggedacross the floor leaving a bloody slime trail. The corpse flew down the ramp. The puddle exploded into crunches and bites. Monsters fought as the frenzied chewing crescendo-ed then died out. The dagger turned silver and the blackness dispersed down the hall.

A naked blonde woman dragged herself across the ground. Bruising wracked her emaciated frame. The individual tendons and muscles slithered under her translucent skin. Every inch she gained caused her face to contort in pain. Farnese’s hand muffled Casca’s surprised coo.

“Help,” screamed the woman. Farnese wanted to carry her away to some place safe. But where was safe? They were in a horror filled cave where the next turn brought surprises worse than the ones before. Farnese trembled under the woman’s gaze. She couldn’t help her, she couldn’t even help herself. Her pleading eyes bulged from her sallow face as the strain threatened to pull her into unconsciousness.

“H… help,” whimpered the woman as she curled into the fetal position clutching a swollen stomach. Farnese turned Casca’s eyes away then ran her hands over her shaking body. The woman convulsed then screamed. Her back arched as her hands tensed. Her legs kicked as her back bounced off the ground. Farnese didn’t want to be weak anymore. She didn’t want to hide in the shadows under the weight of such misery. She crawled to the woman then held her hand.

“I’m sorry,” said Farnese, “I’m so sorry.” A cautious Casca looked over Farnese’s shoulder at the woman. Her bulb-like stomach tore down the middle. Her screams broke louder then louder as hands stuck through her flesh until her stomach exploded and all at once six miniature trolls popped out like a melon smashed with a hammer. A shower of blood, flesh and skin rained a sticky red deluge into Farnese’s hair. The recently birthed trolls ate the still living woman’s organs as she watched.Farnese jumped backwards screaming as the orgy turned to the three women at the entrance.

The dagger pointed at several walking towards them. The glowing white blade revealed blood splatter, dead bodies and dozens of trolls. Human children with spears jammed through their bodies interspersed through the cave like decorations. Feasting monsters with their faces jammed in a large corpse pile watched them. Farnese stood along with Casca as they slowly backed towards the exit.

“AHHHHHHH,” screamed Farnese. Farnese stabbed at a hand reaching for her. Several fingers disconnected from the palm and the owner retreated. “AHHHHH…. AHHHH…” The screams came out more like gasps as she swiped at another.

Calm down whispered into her mind.

“YOU CALM DOWN,” yelled Farnese. The frost aura burst from the dagger and the accumulated trolls backed away. Casca watched the breath puff from her own mouth with a bemused smile as though she was not in a desperate fight for her life. A hand reached into the whiteness, frost forming on it’s fur as it tried to take the dagger. The wrist detached from the arm as though she was cutting through flesh made of butter. Farnese felt like she was going to faint. She wanted to lie low and cower like that little girl hiding from the darkness under her blankets.

“Ohhh,” said Casca with a softness that betrayed she didn’t understand the impending violence. Was she trying to comfort Farnese? Casca walked towards the trolls. Farnese’s arm blocked her against the wall.

“N… no,” said Farnese, “Stay back and don’t move!!” A troll suddenly grabbed towards the partially exposed woman but Farnese’s dagger caught its hand. It yelped, dropped to all fours then scuttled away like a dog. Casca’s hands wrapped around her stomach as she held the dagger higher, a small act of defiance to the advancing hoard. The urge to faint boiled up again in the short lull. The girl’s warmth on her back wouldn’t allow her to do that. Farnese may be incompetent but Casca’s the first thing even weaker than herself that she’s ever been entrusted with. Her unknowing, uncomprehending eyes wont permit Farnese to be powerless.

Farnese concentrated on the blade. If only she could get those moth-like creatures to come help her. Serpico and Isidro prayed to their elementals to call them but how could she when she didn’t even know what they were? She stared at the blade begging the moth creatures to come. She looked for the fluttering of wings within the silver but could not see it. The power of the elementals abandoned her. The troll crowd parted for one carrying a human made pitchfork. This was retribution. Magic would not lend itself to someone with such an unclean soul.

The pitchfork prongs knocked the silver dagger from her grip and the frost aura vanished as the glowing blade turned normal on it’s way to the ground. Farnese pressed Casca against the wall spreading her arms to block her. The silver shirt’s won’t work against a human farm tool! The creature still weary of the barrier that had gone down lined up the tool to stab her face. Farnese looked over her shoulder into Casca’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Farnese as the troll lunged forward. Her only regret in death was that she couldn’t save Casca. She closed her eyes, a coward to the very end.

Thud Thud Thud. The troll squealed as it fell to the ground perforated by arrows. The mob turned to a tall shadowy figure back lit by a bright yellow light.

“Sorry for the wait,” said Guts. Schierke and Isidro came up the tunnel as he let fly a volley from the repeater crossbow mounted to his metal hand. The hailing death pushed the hoard down the corridor with the fallen tree.

“Guts,” yelled Farnese. The towering Black Swordsman back lit by Schierke’s glowing staff loomed like a giant angel of death. Her knees went weak as she slumped against the wall. She was so grateful to have found her protector and savior.

“You okay,” asked Guts. Farnese stepped forward beaming at him.

“Y… YES,” yelled Farnese unable to control herself as the adrenaline pumped through her. Casca’s hand rested on her shoulder as she peeked out at the man as though hiding behind a wall. Now that she was safe, the pain rushed back into her neck and ribs. Her legs buckled, she wobbled then fell into Gut’s chest. He caught her with his good hand as she tried to steady her trembling knees.

“It’s a little too soon to relax,” said Guts.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” said Farnese. She lingered in his grasp while resting her cheek on his chest just wanting to feel safe for another moment. Something felt off. The man was cold and unyielding like steel. He didn’t give off the same calming energy as Casca or Serpico. Serpico! Where was her bodyguard? She pushed off the mountainous man.

“Ohhh,” said Farnese, “Where’s Serpico? I don’t see him…”

“He’s hurt and can’t move,” said Guts. Farnese backed away as though her proximity to the bearer affected the truth. “It ain’t fatal. I promised him I’d bring you back.”

“Enoch Villagers,” called Schierke and Farnese remembered the tortured women. A frantic Isidro paced behind the young witch. Farnese rushed to look over the stunned women scattered around the cave. “We are here to rescue you!! We must leave this place immediately!! Please come with us!”

“Rescue,” asked a surprised woman. A young blonde tried covering her nakedness with a torn shirt. “We’re being rescued?”

“Wait,” called Isidro standing over the pit, “The children are here!” The villagers rushed to the pit and helped pull the children and women out. Rushing footfalls came down the corridor as though a whole army charged towards them. Guts refilled his repeater bow from a side bag then spun a leaver as the bow clinked. The hoard burst into the cave entrance. The women and children gasped in shock then rushed behind Gut’s party. Hairy beasts burst out of another corridor then another collecting in a massive pool.

“Incredible, still so many,” said Schierke.

“I’ll keep ‘em busy,” said Guts. “You guys go on ahead with the villagers.”

“No,” said Schierke, “This is far too many!! All these alone… with no magic for support.”

“Just leave them to me,” said Guts. The witch clutched her staff looking down at the ground as a nervous scowl soured her young face. Farnese placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We should go,” said Farnese. If anyone could take on this number alone, it was Guts. They had to save the women. Farnese and Isidro couldn’t do it on their own and if they stayed they would only get in his way.

“Take care of Casca,” said Guts. Farnese picked up her dagger then took Casca’s hand. She followed Schierke towards the corridor opposite the melee.

“Farnese,” said Guts watching her over his shoulder. “The things you do are a big help. I am grateful.” The pride Farnese felt was like nothing she had ever experienced. It was as though her father told her that he loved her. She choked up. To be recognized for her strength by someone like Guts was a dream she never thought would happen. The constant gnawing self doubt that told her she was still so weak and saving Casca was a fluke would not take this moment from her. As meager as it was, this was her accomplishment and she would cherish it always. Schierke approached as her gloves wiped away the forming tears.

“N… no,” said Farnese, “you needn’t.” The confused witch watched her for a moment then turned away.

“Let’s be off, now,” said Schierke. Isidro approached Guts as the rest of the party continued down the hall. Something paternal and warm lived underneath Guts’ hardened exterior. She loved that side and wished for him to continue nurturing it. A bag flew from the Black Swordsman towards the young boy. Despite their predicament and his near suicidal insistence on holding off the trolls by himself, she wished to stay with him and bask in his strength longer. Casca pulled her further towards the hall, distrustfully squinting at the man. Farnese wondered why she always loved the men who would never love her back. Was this another instance of her Father’s invisible hand at play?

The rushing mass of women and children swept Farnese and Casca up as they exited the cave. Bobbing staff light guided them through winding forks without hesitation. How did the little witch know which way to go? The confused Farnese would have been running blindly in circles yet this little girl knew exactly where to take them. A path spit them out onto a thin bridge-like protrudement over a ravine that disappeared into yet another tunnel.

“Ahh,” yelled Isidro. Two trolls lunged from a branching path. A small spark flew from his hand into an open mouth followed by an explosion that echoed down the tunnel. The creature’s head blew into fragments as it’s lifeless corpse dropped. The second watched it’s fallen comrade in stunned silence. Isidro threw another bomb that tore a huge hole in it’s chest.

“Got ‘em,” shouted the boy. Women screamed as two more approached from a branch.

“Everyone hurry,” shouted Schierke. The women ran up the tunnel towards the small witch. Another bomb exploded before reaching the shaggies. The loud pop scared the beasts who took off up the path. Farnese and Casca waited for the lagging boy only to realize the village women took their que to wait as well. Farnese looked over their beaten, sullen faces and wondered if they would ever be able to recover from that cave of horrors. The sounds of greedy animals eating the dead drifted up the tunnel. Isidro readied another bomb by his salamander dagger.

“Right on,” said Puck whacking Isidro’s head with his tiny hand, “They’re right up your alley!”

“What’re you doin’,” asked Isidro, “You shouldn’t stop movin’!” The group ran up the tunnel forming a tight crowd that was more easily protected. Two shaggies jumped out after the witch passed. Isidro’s bomb exploded between them. Shrapnel blasted holes into the two’s lifeless bodies.

The ground turned lumpy as they continued. Small holes poxing the rock grew larger and larger until running felt more like jumping. Casca’s foot caught in a hole and the woman tumbled out of Farnese’s grip.

“Steady,” said Farnese offering her a hand, “Now get up.” A loud skittering came down a corridor as a bulbous creature that looked like a giant tick with an eye on it’s torso emerged from the darkness. Farnese removed her dagger as the creature hunched backwards then leapt. The blade penetrated its giant eye. The whiteness popped in a flood of bubbling red mucus. The tick screeched with a human voice then curled like a dead spider before falling to the ground.

A pink puss ran down the blade, another victory against indecision and weakness. Was this hell really retribution? Obsession over the Black Swordsman’s role in her destiny plagued her for the last three years yet Casca’s presence was the reason she didn’t pass out in the rape cave. Would the weakling she oppressed constantly now be the one to save her? Was Guts the light that guided her to her real destiny, saving Casca? Farnese guided her friend over the rough terrain. Could redemption come so easily to someone like her? The sins of a lifetime could not be wiped clean in a moment of contrition. Intentions were not such a strong disinfectant. The corruption from her crimes couldn’t be so easily undone. As Casca smiled at her and she felt the warmth radiating from her touch, she took the first steps down a road that would take her whole life to walk.

“Stop,” yelled Schierke. They easily caught up to find the young witch holding her arm out. “We are trapped! Thirteen in front, seven behind.”

“Can’t you trick ‘em or somethin’ like earlier,” asked Isidro.

“Not that many of them,” said Schierke, “Extending a bulwark here to stop them is not an option. We will force our way through. Leave the front to me. You take care of the rear, please, Isidro.”

Monkey-men walked around the bend as Schierke readied her staff. Farnese squeezed Casca’s hand as Isidro passed them, bomb in hand. Metal clanked down the tunnel ahead. The menacing monsters stopped approaching as the clanging grew deafening. One looked up at the ceiling then burst into a shower of blood and viscera as a black streak clacked like thundering horse hooves across the ceiling. Wind from the rushing black blur knocked down several children as the women ducked for cover. For but a moment Farnese made out the shadowy figure of death from the wall at Albion tearing across the ceiling before disappearing past Isidro. Screams echoed down the hallway behind them. A pile of corpses littered the ground in front.

The group followed Schierke up a ramp that seemed to stretch on forever.

“Just a little farther everyone,” said Schierke. Bits of Schierke’s thoughts cut in and out of Farnese’s mind: Guts… safely reached… hurry...

Casca shrieked then grabbed for the brand then fell on her knees. Schierke squealed shutting her eyes as her face tensed then slumped onto all fours panting heavily.

“Unnnnggggg,” yelled Casca with her hands on her head.

“Casca,” yelled Farnese holding the bucking woman, “Are you okay, precious?” Her words and touch were not reaching the woman. Pure agony contorted her face into a silent scream. Monsters, people seeking salvation, the knight Death, Darkness. It was like the tower at Albion all over again.

“Aiiieeeeee,” screamed Schierke. Isidro ran up the ramp holding the salamander dagger like a torch.

“What’s wrong,” said Isidro. The boy ran to the young witch on her knees, her back tensed and arching as she looked towards the ceiling. Schierke crumpled over leaning on her staff.

“Uhhhhhh,” said Schierke.

“Schierke, can you hear me,” said Ivalera.

“What is it this time,” asked the boy.

“I feel an explosion of emotion howling from the grotto bottom like a foul wind,” said Schierke. “A great evil has arrived. An intense explosion of darkness from a concentrated presence shaped like a woman with bat wings but it’s not human. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s OD is toying with Guts, causing him all kinds of pain. A pain so great I can feel it in my own body.”

“You poor thing,” said Farnese stroking Casca’s cheek. Casca and Guts were linked. If Schierke could feel Gut’s pain from there, than Casca must have been in exceptional agony.

“Hey, you ok,” asked Isidro, “you’ve been actin’ weird.”

“I… I am fine,” said Schierke standing.

“Gut’s hasn’t gotten back and if we hang around here, trolls’ll come after us again,” said Isidro. Schierke looked towards the daylight gently streaming in around the bend ahead. They were so close to the end.

“I have no choice,” said Schierke, “I will now enact a spell to seal the entrance to this grotto.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Isidro, “Guts is still inside!”

“I know that,” said Schierke. “But as you said, I sense trolls creeping up on us. We have no more time. Besides, if I do not seal this place the trolls will doubtless again raid Enoch and it’s villages. My thought transference should be reaching Guts. Let us have faith that he will return by the time I invoke the spell.” Farnese brought a quivering Casca to her feet who cried into her hands as Farnese wrapped her in a hug.

Garbled thoughts from Schierke entered her mind again: WHAT… DOING IN… GUUTTS….

Farnese did not know if her thoughts would reach Guts but she wanted to try anyway, if for no other reason than to placate her own mounting worry: Guts please return to us, Casca still needs you. The words felt like a prayer. Although Casca needed him, Farnese couldn’t help escape her own want.

“Stand as close as you can,” said Schierke. The women huddled behind Farnese and Casca. Schierke drew a large circle around the group and then a small circle. She entered bowing her head as she mumbled. The staff head illuminated brighter as a white barrier grew around the large circle. The air grew warm as the salamanders in Isidro’s dagger flared and jumped. The fire elementals floated on the air within the circle like fireflies. Pitchfork carrying trolls came around the bend. Isidro walked towards the monsters.

“Listen,” yelled Isidro, “They can’t get inside this circle, so don’t go outside it.” Isidro’s open arms blocked Schierke. Farnese wanted to help but the power of silver would be useless against the human made tools. Casca cowered in her arms as the sense of powerlessness fanned her insecurity.

“Look, farm tools,” yelled Farnese. “Schierke said the power of this bulwark is only effective against ethereal bodies…”

“Fine,” yelled Isidro, “COME ON YA HORNY MONKEYS!!!” A bomb explosion ripped apart a pitch fork wielder’s head. The loud explosion scattered the beasts before they turned back.

“Hrrrrr, Hrrrrr,” said Casca rocking back and forth. Farnese held her head close to her chest then kissed itand ran her fingers through her hair.

Bomb after bomb flew towards the ones carrying weapons. The weapon carrying trolls fell down in a shower of flesh bits and blood. The last weapon carrier dropped to the ground. A group without weapons hung outside the battlefield littered with dead.

A mossy wet odor filled the cave. Crawling black insects grew denser on the ceiling as the young witch chanted. The ground moved for an instant.

“YEAHHHHHH,” yelled the boy, “That takes care of the ones with human weapons.” The pack opened revealing a large one wearing human body armor carrying a cross bow. Black hairy flesh stuck around the edges of the too small armor. A necklace of human skulls sat over a breast plate exposing its ribs and stomach. The bolt looked tiny in it’s massive hands.

“The boss monkey, huh,” said Isidro. “This’ll show ‘im.” The boy charged the armor clad boss monkey then threw a bomb. The monster grabbed an underling by the neck and used it like a shield. The explosion ripped through the shield’s stomach before the armored leader dropped it’s lifeless corpse to resume loading the crossbow.

“Bastard, usin’ your own guy for…,” said Isidro trailing off as he groped into the bomb bag. “Shit! That was my last one! Ahhh!”

The stagnant mildew smell grew so strong Farnese gagged on the soupy odor. Now was the time to prove her worth. One of those moths needed to save Isidro and the chanting witch. Her will set against the armored troll. Moth spirit, hear her call and come to her aid! The dagger hoisted into the air but nothing happened. Moth spirit? Hello? Great spirit? The dagger waggled above her as nothing happened. Why couldn’t she bring about the spirits within the blade? Why did magic forsake her when she needed it most? Serpico… Isidro… they both mastered their elementals with such ease yet Farnese’s powers only came out in sporadic, uncontrolled bursts.

Isidro sprinted towards the armored one as it finished loading the crossbow. The weapon leveled at the boy as he dodged from side to side. It’s aim corrected then corrected again as Isidro closed the gap then jumped with the dagger over his head. The armored monster bought the feint as the boy curled into a roll then dove for the ground. The bolt flew over his head then stuck in the wall with a clang. A battle axe screamed off the creature’s back heading for the tumbling boy. His roll tightened, closer to the ground. The axe just missed him as he got within its guard. The boy sprung to his feet stabbing the monster with his second blade. The short sword connected with the exposed stomach under the ill fitting breast plate releasing a surprised yelp. The boy spun mid air then stabbed the salamander dagger. The blade glowed brighter and brighter until a sudden, massive eruption of fire spewed forth. The torrent engulfed the howling creature’s torso. Massive arms flailed while it ran in circles scattering the group. Fire spread across its body. The howling stopped as the roaring flame deprived its lungs of air. The smell of burning hair and flesh touched Farnese with the memories of so many people put to the flame. Within a minute the formidable monster was reduced to a burning corpse.

Isidro jumped to his feet then pumped the dagger over his head.

“I… I DID IT,” yelled Isidro. A spear jabbed at the boy but he dove away then ran back to Schierke’s small circle. He held the dagger towards Farnese with a peace sign on his other hand. The smile plastered on his face made Farnese smile as well.

The chanting stopped as a dark aura surrounded Schierke with a blackness so complete she disappeared entirely. Black bubbles formed on the ceiling like those from Albion. Farnese tried to warn the others but her words only came out as stammered, unintelligible syllables. A deep voice moaned from the blackness that was once Schierke. The trolls at the entrance quivered. A tentacled face emerged from the black ooze dripping from the ceiling. White lights glowing in black circles over a beard made of roots blinked. The root beard struck the ground growing thicker before a head formed and Farnese could no longer see down the tunnel.

“I am called the Rotting Root Lord,” said a deep masculine voice, “The chief of rotting trees and putrid mud. In accordance with my pact with the little one, I shall reduce the trolls creeping upon my body to a seedbed for maggots. ROT” The monsters screamed as a heat, smoke filled wind rushed around the giant root knot blocking her view. The unmistakable waterfall woosh of fire engulfed the area beyond her vision. The ground rocked as women fell. The cave groaned, shook then fell into darkness. The giant root face sunk into the ground revealing a field of burning corpses. Isidro stood over a fallen Schierke. The young witch panted on hands and knees as smoke clouds saturated the air.

Farnese dragged Casca to the two children. The cave shook again with such violence the two women stumbled. The root floor pistoned under her feet. Farnese cradled Casca in her arms to keep her on her feet. The women and children let out a panicked cry.

“Hey, wait,” yelled Isidro, “At that rate Guts’ll be buried alive. Uh-oh! It’s collapsin!’” A loud explosion rocked the cave. “Now what?!?” A foul wind carried the stench of rot and death down the corridor. Isidro, Casca and Farnese ran towards the noise. They had to protect the women! Schierke was doing so much for them, they couldn’t fail her. They couldn’t let all of this be for naught.

The silhouettes of a giant man next to a mounted figure stood in the darkness.

“Guts,” screamed Farnese. A massive cut bled down the length of his shirtless chest. Tears and gouges speckled his torso and arms. Blood and mud covered the armor over his legs. The massive dragon slayer rested in arms too weak to hoist it. The man looked around the cave bewildered.

“There you go with that nonsense again,” said Guts, “forget that, why were you there in the…” He trailed off as he looked over his shoulder to find the horseman no longer there. “Now I owe you another one.”

“What’s going on,” yelled Isidro as he ran, “How’d you get behind us?” Melting rock ran down the cave walls like candle wax. Guts hobbled to Schierke who pulled herself to her feet with her staff. Black mud dropped from the ceiling before disappearing in the air like mist on a lake. Light pierced the shaking, melting ceiling. A loud crash boomed.

“Look,” yelled a small boy pointing up. A large patch of sky and trees poked through the ceiling. Bright white light flashed then they were standing in woods with no trace of the cave or monsters. The whole adventure, protecting Casca, the Magic and monsters, all felt like a fairy tail: like a vivid dream. Her ribs pounded against her lungs and the realness came back to her. They lived. Thank God, they lived. Her legs gave out and she would have crashed had Casca not caught her weight.

Guts knelt over the prone witch as Isidro excitedly looked around trying to cast his eyes anywhere but to the naked women. Once Schierke was on her feet, they walked through the woods to the little village. A horn blared from the lookout overlooking the small highway that took them to the town square. The murmured excitement of peasants grew louder the closer they got. Casca could barely hold Farnese’s dead weight by the time they reached the small bridge in to town.

“I am sorry for being such a burden again,” said Farnese. The woman looked at her as though the words meant nothing then cooed. A large crowd waiting on the bridge cheered at the approaching women. Farnese looked at the captive crowd followed by Guts, Isidro and Schierke. She felt like a conquering hero again: the knight captain returning from battle victorious except this time it was different. Part of the glory was really hers. She earned it.

They made it half way down the bridge before the crowd wouldn’t let them proceed any further. The naked mass rushed past Farnese into the arms of awaiting family. The reunion grew loud, emotional and she couldn’t help but feel touched. She saved so much more than Casca that day.

“Lady Farnese,” called from the crowd. Her hand reached for her bounding bodyguard. He took her hand then wrapped her in his arms with such force an overwhelmed Casca blew backwards into Gut’s arms.

“I am sorry for worrying you,” said Farnese. Her arms hung slack at her sides as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Lady Farnese,” asked Serpico. He scooped her in his arms. “What’s wrong?” Farnese cuddled against him no longer wanting to think on the pain.

Chapter 10: Disaster at the Spirit Tree

“Please miss, can you help her,” asked Serpico before jumping over the crowd to Hannah’s home. Her body laid so gently on the bed she may have forgotten the injury had the silver shirt not pressed into her ribs with shocks of pain.

“You don’t need to fuss,” said Farnese as Schierke entered. With Schierke’s help, Serpico undressed her down to the slip. The heavy chain-mail’s removal provided some immediate relief. Serpico left so Schierke could finish undressing her. The small witch applied floral smelling paste to a large bruise spoiling the skin over her ribs. The cream tingled then grew hot as the pain dulled.

“You have bruised a rib or two, you will need bed rest,” said Schierke. Her hands hovered over Farnese’s wound. A strange tingling followed the hands around her body. The pain dulled with the tingling then roared back when she moved to another place.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Serpico’s torso gently expanded with each breath as he laid across the bed from the chair at Farnese’s side. Her ribs still ached but not with the same vice grip tightness of the day before. Her faithful servant barely left her side but even he had limits and sleep took its due. She almost forgot his ribs were also injured as she held his hand. Her slender fingers ran through his hair as she thought of those times he comforted her through thunderstorms. What kind of burdens must he still be carrying? What secrets still haunt him? He had done so much more than she would likely ever know to stay in her presence and keep protecting her. What forces drove him to near hysterical devotion? Their life together could not have been an easy one. He endured the unreasonable demands of her tortured childhood. His shoulders carried the burden of her love and scorn. He guided her through her illusions of grandeur. He endured all silently, scheming. The devil’s bargain made with her parents couldn’t have been the only time he had to undertake such work on her behalf. He alone protected her against her own thirst, hunger, lust, and madness. If Guts was the savior of her body, Serpico was of her soul.

Schierke curled up like a cat on an armchair by the room’s window. A faint orange haze softened the young girl’s already childish features. How could one so young and frail be so powerful? Magic was truly a wondrous thing. Spells rivaled the greatest miracles chronicled by the Holy See. This small one was stronger than Farnese would ever be. She wanted to be just like this girl. Could magic make one as frail and weak as Farnese strong as well? Could Farnese even use magic? Were the strange occurrences breaking out around her something she could learn to control? Was that magic inherent to silver or her? The young witch spent so much time over the last day fawning over Farnese and Guts’ injuries that she did not want to burden her with questions but Farnese was awful at controlling her desires.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The townsfolk gathered in the early morning light over another grave behind the Church. Headstones scattered flat against the ground like dropped dominoes. A pine box laid in the hole as the Priest led the congregation in prayer. Schierke stood at the grave’s edge with tears running down her cheek. The woman died when trollings tore through her abdomen over night. Her sister found the small monsters chewing on her corpse the next morning. Schierke blamed herself for not having the wisdom to see that the women may have been infected. She concocted a cure between her sessions healing Guts and Farnese.

The guilt of her injury pained Farnese as much as the bruised ribs. Had she not gotten injured and required so much attention, the young witch may have averted this death. Then again, had Farnese not been injured, Guts would have insisted they leave immediately despite his catastrophic injuries and many more would have died.

“Come with me young one,” said the Priest. The man walked towards the church followed by the witch. “At first I had my misgivings. I thought surely the Lord would punish us for accepting the aid of a heretic such as yourself. But you have provided invaluable aid.” A bandage wrapped Guts with the massive dragon slayer slung across his back followed the young girl. Serpico walked beside Farnese as a possessive Casca clung to her arm giving him a distrustful frown. Isidro followed after the group with his hands behind his head looking up at the sky.

The party left the stone archway then walked up the small hill to the river bank. The waters that recently threatened to tear apart the village babbled gently several meters below the bank. A small rock pile sat on a paved landing inscribed with words Farnese could not read.

“The ancient tongue,” said Schierke running her hands over the inscription, “The spirit of the water flows.”

“It’s not much, but I wanted to give you this as something of a thanks,” said the Priest. The monument was small, discreet, and enough to get the Priest killed should the Holy See find it.

“It’s wonderful,” said the melancholy girl. The whole town waited for them within the courtyard.

“Young witch,” said a woman, “Thank you.” The crowd called out praise as they approached the main boulevard. Schierke hid behind Guts, only peeking out every so often to retreat again when the intensity of her embarrassment turned her skin red. Morgan leaned on a cane at the courtyard’s edge. His feeble hand tosseled Isidro’s hair as he passed.

“I heard you’re quite the warrior lad,” said Morgan. “Put my old sword to good use.” Isidro smiled then pumped his fist.

“You got it old man,” said the boy. The adulation faded into a distant noise before disappearing. And with that they were back on the trail to the spirit tree. Although Guts was upright, he moved with a hindering stiffness.

“The magic items you gave Serpico and Isidro work so well,” said Farnese, “why do the elementals in my items come out so inconsistently.”

“Your silver has no spirits, only its inherent warding magic,” said Schierke, “Magical creatures simply cannot touch you.”

“Oh,” said Farnese. “What was that miracle you summoned on the church?”

“I invoked a pact between my order and Ategh, the lord of earth, Gedulah, the lord of water. Geplah the lord of wind and Markto lord of fire,” said Schierke, “They are the Kings of the primary elements that make up the cornerstone of magic.”

“If there are Kings, are there Queens,” asked Farnese.

“Within the primary domains reside secondary domains ruled by a Queen,” said Schierke. “The mother of all and Queen of Life, Bhava, covers the earth domain in plants and animals. The corrupted Queen of darkness, Andha, lives deep within the depths of Gedulah’s oceans where no light may reach. The mad Queen, Vaiśvānara, resides within the sun that blazes over the fire domain. The wind lord Geplah’s married to the Queen of death, the ice wraith Moksa. Magi only learn the most basic spells from these elements because they are dangerous. Life consumes your life force. Light drives the caster insane. Darkness bends the magician to its will. Although all magic can kill, the ability to cease something’s life force with a small amount of energy is the most taboo of all.”

“What does invoking the Queens do,” asked Farnese.

“They do not teach apprentices like me because it kills the caster,” said the small witch.

“What does it feel like to cast a spell,” asked Farnese walking besides Serpico and Casca as guts lagged behind.

“It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never done it,” said Schierke, “Imagine a sensation… let’s say heat. Imagine what it’s like to warm your hands over a fire. That’s what casting a fire spell feels like but imagine that feeling over your whole body, down to every last cell. Even your mind feels it.”

“Is earth hard like a rock or soft like soil,” asked Farnese.

“For me, earth is like the scent of fresh soil in your hands,” said Schierke, “but turned into a feeling… They say earth is the hardest element to master and that’s why the earth attuned make the best magi.”

“Attuned,” asked Farnese. The slow moving Guts’ posture slumped as the peppy Isidro held his short sword in the air. His animated retelling made the beleaguered swordsman look snail-like.

“Everyone has an element they are naturally suited for,” said Schierke, “Sometimes the attunement may be so weak they might as well have no magic what-so-ever. Some users have extreme proficiency in one element but almost none in others.” Farnese looked at Serpico who watched Isidro’s animated tale with one hand on his feather duster. “Rare users may be proficient in multiple elements though one is almost certainly better than the others. I myself am an Earth Magi.”

“What element am I,” asked Farnese. Schierke stopped then looked up at the sky.

“Eh,” said Schierke. The young witch mumbled to herself.

“What element,” said Farnese trailing off as the girl’s face tensed. “Is something wrong?” Farnese’s hand brushed against the girl’s hair as she reached for her shoulder. An image of Flora appeared in Farnese’s mind before she pulled her hand away.

“No,” said Schierke, “For a moment I thought I sensed my mistress’ thoughts.” Ivalera looked down at the girl from her hat.

“Arent’cha excited to get back and be praised by Flora,” said Ivalera. The young witch looked sad as she stared into the distance.

“Never,” said Schierke, “That would never happen…”

“Please be proud of yourself,” said Serpico. Farnese took her hand. The young girl shrunk away from the intensity in Farnese’s eyes.

“A girl like you managed to do all that,” said Farnese, “They were surely miraculous skills! I… I was moved!” The girl pulled from her grip then turned down the path.

“I am only a novice,” said Schierke, “nothing special...”

“Guts,” shouted Isidro before slicing the air wildly with his short sword, “you should have seen me! That armor monkey thought he was somethin’ but I was like YA!” The sword slashed. “And then I went HIYA! Then, just like we practiced…” The boy dove, rolled then quick drew the short sword from his back with an upward slash. Casca ran after the tumbling boy with her arms outstretched. “And then he got the big guy!” Isidro pulled out the salamander dagger. A pale Guts dragged behind the group not looking at the boy until his feet gave out and the giant man fell.

“GUTS,” shrieked Farnese taking a knee by his head, “What.. what happened?” Guts moaned then rolled onto his back. The dry white bandages heaved under his labored breath.

“Didn’t the wounds stop bleeding back at the town,” asked Isidro. Farnese’s dagger cut the bandages open. The cloth peeled off revealing a giant scar across his chest. The wound healed under Schierke’s care in the cottage. “What gives, it’s closed up all right.”

Her hands grabbed at thetightness grippingher neck as though putting pressure on the muscles could force them to relax. Something was terribly wrong, she could feel it. Guts couldn’t be hurt. They went through trials much worse than the grotto and come out unscathed. Surely the simple brutes were not able to hurt him. Farnese experienced Schierke’s potent healing herself. Her breath grew labored as she imagined a world where Guts no longer carried them. Who would bring Casca to her salvation? Who would bring light to the night?

“No, these wounds are quite severe,” said Schierke holding her hands over his chest. Farnese gasped then looked to Serpico for comfort. The bodyguard’s stoic eyes squinted. Had he been looking at her this whole time? “The wounds to his physical body have indeed closed but the wounds to his ethereal body remain. If left alone they will steadily debilitate him and eventually the physical wounds will open again.”

“No, he can be healed, yes,” said Farnese struggling against the raising panic. Serpico’s stoic gaze broke into a frown before Farnese took notice and he retreated into emotionlessness.

“If we rush him to the mansion so he can take my mistress’ elixir,” said Schierke. “Everyone lend a hand.”

“It’s not a big deal,” said Guts as he stood with the dragon slayer’s aid. Farnese sighed as the tension released. “I’m just a little dizzy or something.” Guts hobbled ahead using the massive sword like a cane.

“You should rest,” said Schierke.

“No,” said Guts.

“I believe…,” said Farnese before the Black Swordsman shot her a glance that shut down her thought.

“I offer my shoulder, at least, though reluctantly,” said Serpico.

“Don’t bother,” said Guts. He put the sword on his back, held his head high and continued without a further word. The matter was not open for debate. What monster in the bowels of the land of darkness did such damage to him? Farnese believed nothing could hurt the Black Swordsman let alone permanently injure him. Schierke said that the being was shaped like a women with bat wings. Could it have been the woman she saw floating over the cemetery who joined her at the ruined tower? Did this creature’s interest in Farnese bring it to Guts? No… She wasn’t so important...

The group strolled silently through the woods consumed by their own thoughts. The man tried to conceal the extent of his injuries but she could read it on his stiff posture, the wincing tension that wracked his frame every so often. They needed to reach the spirit tree soon and implore Flora for one final gift. Casca panted and Farnese thought it was sweet even she felt worried for him. A strange light glowed over the canopy as though the sun was rising in the forest.

“Ooooo,” said Casca grabbing her chest. The pain wracked woman bent over squealing.

“Casca,” said Farnese. Ash floated through the air on a smokey breeze carrying the unmistakable scent of burning flesh. Blood leaked down the brand on Gut’s neck. Schierke clutched the staff close to her chest then looked at black smoke billowing over the trees. The smoke disappeared then reappeared. The magic concealing the tree blinked in and out of existance.

“Farnese and Casca, wait here,” said Guts. Why did she have to wait behind? Had she not proven herself more than capable on the church roof and within the troll den? Were his words of recognition just words? “There’s something bad at the mansion and it ain’t trolls. The old lady’s in trouble.” The barrier failed again revealing billowing black clouds.

“SMOKE,” yelled Schierke. Guts ran with the dragon slayer in hand. Schierke followed then Isidro who already carried the salamander dagger. Serpico looked at his mistress.

“Go,” said Farnese. With that word she was alone with Casca.

Guts treated her more like a child than the two children. If only she could get a grasp on magic then he wouldn’t look at her this way anymore. She defended Casca with nothing more than a dagger, a magic shirt and her willpower while he had an arsenal of weapons and full plate armor. His armor! Guts charged into battle missing his pauldrons and breast plate with a grave wound upon him. Surely in his condition he should have stopped to consider his chances. Charging into a fight without thinking was so like him. He barely survived so many battles availed of his full strength and armor. Farnese was being foolish again. The armor did not make him strong; his strength made the armor appear magical. No one knew Guts’ limitations better than himself. Farnese needed to trust him. She fidgeted with the hair ring around her pinkie as she thought upon Guts’ state. A bored Casca looked around the forest canopy, for what Farnese was not sure.

Mistress… MISTRESS shouted into Farnese’s mind. Schierke sounded desperate. Where… Tree… Farnese intercepted thoughts not meant for her. A tree swayed under Casca’s weight as she tried pulling herself up on a branch before falling.

“Stay where I can see you, my precious,” said Farnese. Her back leaned against a tree then she closed her eyes. The hair ring barely felt like anything. The fine string was difficult to feel in her grasp and even harder to visualize. A vision of Schierke laying on a robed lap in the field by the mansion as a Golem played chess with the viewer popped into her mind. A hand reached out to stroke the sleeping girl’s hair. Get that to the Black Swordsman whispered Flora’s voice with the vision of black armor positioned on a chair as though it were a king sitting on a throne.

Schierke’s warning popped into Farnese’s mind: thought transference was life magic and life magic consumed the user’s life force. Her eyes popped open as she broke free of the visions. How could she see into the young girl’s mind? Was the spell used to facilitate her thought broadcasts a two way street that Farnese accidentally walked down? Maybe she could learn to communicate with Casca using this method.

She dusted the dirt off her pants then looked around but found only the empty path.

“Ugh, not again,” said Farnese. Branches rustled in the woods. She dodged around trees surprised that the woman had gained so much distance in the short time she eaves dropped on Schierke’s thoughts.

“No Casca, it’s dangerous,” yelled Farnese as she ran towards the noise.

Casca watchedthe wide muscular back of a monster with a man’s body and praying mantis head. The bug-man was even taller than the Black Swordsman and broader than a bull. Farnese pulled Casca towards the path with her finger imploring her to be silent. The monster’s bulbous black eyes split open as snake-like black tentacles slithered out. Oh God! It saw them! This monster was in a league above the trolls that she could barely defend herself against. Her knees shook as she drew her dagger. What was she doing? They needed to run. They had to get out of there. The monster sniffed the air then walked towards them.

A booming explosion from the spirit tree turned its attention towards the sky and Farnese was off. She dragged Casca through the woods dodging around branches while bounding over roots. Branches snapped as the bug-man closed the distance. The monster emerged from the rustling trees behind them. Its massive hand clutched for Casca but Farnese yanked her out of the way. Their feet caught and they tumbled into the forest path where a stout but muscular dog-esque man in full plate armor holding a spear watched them.

Farnese dragged Casca away until her back connected with a tree. The mantis man emerged from the woods.

“These are mine, I saw them first” said the mantis-man.

“Leave them,” said the dog-man, “Master said we are not to eat the humans. Lord Grunbell needs reinforcements.”

“Lord Grunbell has not transformed, he needs no one,” said the mantis. “Master doesn’t need to know…” The mantis-man lunged but the dog-man stepped between them with his spear lowered. They disappeared down the forest path amid the clamor of battle. Armor shattered followed by the dog-man’s pained howl.

The smoke rising from the mansion billowed in dense black clouds. Guts would help them, Guts could save them from anything. The mantis-man closed down the obstacle-less path so Farnese dragged Casca into the woods. A large hollow under a tree caught her eye and before she knew it they were laying in the dirt underneath. Everyone depended on her to protect Casca.

The dagger shook as the blade turned black. Black insects burrowed through the soil then skittered, crawled and swarmed over the entrance. A musty, dank smell filled the small hollow as the blackness swirled like a blizzard. The mantis-man’s legs appeared outside the opening. Another massive explosion echoed from the mansion and the monster ran off.

As the fear dissipated, the dagger turned normal and the swirling insects flew away. She tried visualizing the dagger turning black but it remained the same. The barrier was gone and not coming back.

Her head stuck out of the hollow revealing an empty woods. She helped Casca out. The fire raged around the woods outside the spirit tree. The women ducked behind a tree then peeked down the path to find the butchered dog laying in a blood puddle. Casca clutched the brand wincing. Farnese held her finger to her lips, took Casca’s hand and crept towards the flames. She didn’t care what monstrosities they found waiting for them within the carnage at the Spirit tree. They needed Guts. She needed Guts.

Flames engulfed the mansion from root to leaves. The raging inferno browned the lawn and burned the trees around the clearing. A crystal dragon taller than the flaming tree sparkled in the daylight. A figure in strange black armor howled then jumped around like a monster as it leaked blood from every joint. The armor helmet looked like a grinning jackal. Jagged ridges made every inch look spiked. The jackal monster swung the dragon slayer into a group of strange looking demons. The half creature – half man monsters exploded as the blade tore through them as though they were blood filled bubbles. That thing was Guts!

Schierke chanted from a summoning circle while Serpico engaged an elephant man. Long tusks thrust over Serpico as he ducked then sliced its flank. The elephant reared trying to kick him but he could not match his speed.

Isidro circled a creature that looked like a mix between an octopus and fern. The leaf covered monster threw a tentacle at the boy. The salamander dagger sliced a leaf sending sparks as it whipped with another. Isidro rolled away as the tentacle smashed into the ground.

Guts jumped on the back of a rhino-man then stabbed through it’s head. The creature bucked, whined then fell flat. He jumped from its back facing Farnese. A black, hatred filled energy pulsed from him so strongly she could feel it from the wood’s edge. Casca clutched at her brand as Farnese wrapped a comforting arm around her. The stone dragon walked behind the distracted jackal-Guts.

“Receive my fire,” yelled the Dragon. Casca walked towards the carnage before Farnese stopped her.

“No, Casca, it’s dangerous,” said Farnese.

The mantis-man charged the women. Farnese screamed, pulled her dagger then pinned Casca to a tree. The blade glowed white emitting the frost aura as her breath curled in white puffs. The monster stopped at the edge, put it’s hand into the frost then laughed. The barrier wavered then disappeared.

“Pathetic,” said the mantis, “such pitiful magic won’t work on me.” The monster slowly closed the gap reaching towards her head as though it enjoyed the rising terror screwing her face into a scream. She imagined the white moth flying into its face with black frost bitten death. Nothing happened again. No moth came. No aid. She was going to die. The monster’s black tentacle eyes swirled as its putrid breath tickled her cheek.

“Lady Farnese,” called Serpico. She took one last look at her beloved friend only to see a black streak flying through the air. The Dragon Slayer bisected the monster’s head. It dangled from the embedded sword like a marionette.

“Are you Guts,” asked Farnese. The helmet separated then folded behind his head. Guts smirked with half dead eyes staring far behind her. Blood leaking from his forehead covered his face like red paint. White patches filled his black hair. “How awful!” Casca cowered behind Farnese holding her shoulder as the listless Guts barely clung to consciousness.

Serpico carried Schierke on his back as he chased behind Guts followed by Isidro.

“We’re gonna BURNNNN,” said Isidro.

The dragon stomped towards them as panicked monsters fled from its path. The flames around the mansion calmed then sucked into the home before a giant woman made of fire rose over the building. A flame wall grew between the party and monsters. The dragon’s fire breath blasted the flame woman but it sucked into her making her grow larger.

“Mistress,” called Schierke. For a second the smooth featureless woman’s face wrinkled like Flora’s before changing back. “MISTRESS!!!”

“You have done well, Schierke,” said the flame woman. “Now go. This forest will not last much longer. Once the spirit tree burns down this domain will likely close.” The young witch broke into tears. “This place is an interstice where time lingers for the old. This tree and I have both lived quite long. However pleasant the sunshine, the young must not dwell here forever. The time has come to leave the nest. GO forth from here and find your own path my dearest student. The days I spent with you were short but in all my long life, they were the most serene.”

“Thank you, mistress,” called Schierke. A burning tree fell towards the little girl. Gut’s grabbed her then jumped away. The party ran from the burning grove as the dragon raged in his futility.

Once out of immediate danger, Guts returned the girl to her feet. Blood seeped from the cracks between Gut’s armor as they ran towards the valley village. The horn blared as they reached the guard tower. The townspeople greeted them in the village square as they crossed a bridge. The Priest walked down the church steps with a cautious scowl. The Black Swordsman collapsed in the square. Serpico tried to rouse him but he would not move. The villagers picked up the blood soaked man then carried him to Hannah’s house. The black armored man left a red streak as they brought him through the threshold. The bed groaned as the rails popped from their joints. Farnese had never seen someone bleed so much.

“You can stay as long as you need,” said Hannah. Farnese undid a buckle holding his breastplate together. Gut’s gauntleted hand almost crushed her cartilage and bone.

“NO,” yelled Guts before dropping her hand. Schierke pulled a boot that would not come off his foot. Guts writhed and screamed then went unconscious.

Farnese and Schierke were unable to remove the armor for several days. They did their best to ease his pain with elf dust and ointment. Healing salve covered what little exposed skin he had. The Black Swordsman blinked in and out of consciousness. The women took turns sleeping and attending to him. One by one they removed the armor pieces. Each piece concealed grizzled meat punctured with holes. Broken bones stuck through flesh or laid under skin like marbles. A frantic fight for his life ensued every time they undressed him. Schierke’s supply of healing cream exhausted by the time Guts laid naked in the bed.

Farnese stood watch that first night after the final piece was removed. The man slept peacefully as she held his hand. It was a miracle he lived for so long already but they would have to feed him soon or he would die of hunger. Guts was her man of miracles. She ran a hand over his cheek then looked through his white and black hair. The armor’s power was terrifying. The sleeping Schierke broke down into a sob.

Farnese left Guts to hold the girl’s shoulders. She looked up at her then wiped the tears from her eyes.

“He’s not going to make it,” said Schierke, “and it’s all my fault.”

“You’re the reason he will make it,” said Farnese. “Guts never did anything he didn’t want to do. He wanted to help the villagers. He wanted to help you. Do not put an unnecessary burden upon yourself.”

“I don’t,” stammered Schierke, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Join us, we are going to Elfhiem to see the King of the Elves to fix Casca,” said Farnese.

“There’s a large colony of Magi there,” said Schierke, “maybe someone will know how to fix Guts and Casca.” And maybe someone will know what was happening to Farnese as well.

Chapter 11: Recovery

A standing Farnese struggled to reach his mouth with the soup spoon even though Guts laid in bed. The cottage felt tight to the woman who spent precious few moments outside of feeding, bathing, changing and caring for the broken man. The Black Swordsman had never been anyone’s definition of talkative but he was quiet as the grave in this weakened state. One with so much pride did not take to such dependence with good cheer. The man who cast down angels and demons could not feed himself or even walk.

Schierke entered the small home, took off her hat then wiped her forehead with her sleeve. Guts watched her walk as his arms dangled uselessly at his side.

“Good, you can move your neck,” said Schierke. A bored Casca lounging by the window turned to the young witch as she put her medicine bag on the table.

“How are they,” said Farnese. Casca held out her hand but Schierke walked to Farnese.

“I’ve checked them all,” said Schierke, “none are showing any signs of pregnancy. It’s safe to say they are not in danger anymore.”

Serpico struggled through the door with firewood bundles. Another spoon of soup disappeared into Guts’ mouth.

“Can I have a minute with Guts,” said Serpico. Why would he need time alone with Guts? Her bodyguard was always scheming.

“Sure,” said Guts. Farnese placed the bowl on the night table then tasseled Casca’s hair and the woman perked up.

“Cover your eyes,” said Farnese. Her hands pantomimed the action and Casca followed. Farnesse unburied a jar of candied pecans in a potted plant. A nut popped into Casca mouth with a light ‘mmmm’. Her arms wrapped Farnese so enthusiastically she thought she would fall over. She laughed then Casca kissed her forhead and giggled. “Lets go for a walk, honey.” The witch retrieved her staff and hat then all three women left the cottage.

The sound of hammers falling and saws grinding filled the street. Construction crews framed new homes where the water spirit swept away buildings. The air outside the stuffy cabin was so fresh Farnese had to take in a deep breath. An early spring crispness smelled of budding flowers and mist from the river. The sunshine warmed her face. Her near death experience gave the world a vitality she couldn’t remember savoring before.

“Thank you, young witch,” said a woman walking with a rail thin boy. Schierke pulled down her hat trying not to make eye contact.

“Heroes,” called down a man hammering on a frame’s second floor. Farnese waved and he waved the hammer.

“It was nothing,” said Schierke so quietly Farnese could barely make out the words.

“Nothing short of amazing,” said Farnese. The little girl rolled her eyes at the joke. Farnese smiled at the momentary recognition that she was still just a child. “How did you learn magic?”

“I was born into a family of Magi,” said Schierke. “Magic was a part of my life from my earliest memories. It’s so ingrained in the magi community that it’s sort of like asking you how did you learn to speak. Given my high affinity for Earth Magic, I was sent to an advanced school in Tudor for girls. It was a school like every other. Learn the basics, repeat the basics. Over and over again for years.” Farnese thought of the endless droning of useless facts from tutors she would forget a week after their employment ended. At least magic could change the world.

They entered the courtyard then continued to the small shrine. The rock pile was not much to look at but still it filled Farnese with a vague dread. Should the Holy See catch wind, they would surely investigate and with the investigation would come inquisitors and death. As though her hand had a mind of it’s own, she fingered her dagger hilt.

“Why does my dagger glow sometimes and release a barrier of cold or light or darkness,” asked Farnese. The girl’s doe eyes looked up at her. “It does not seem to be something I can control. What are the black insects that crawl around at night. A white moth once killed a troll simply by landing on it.”

“The insects sound like Shades, darkness elementals,” said Schierke, “and the white moth… that sounds like a Psychopomp, the death elemental. I’ve never seen them myself but Magi learn of all the different elementals. I don’t know why you can channel these powers but they say silver is a great conductor of OD, maybe you are drawing them out of the environment. Secondary elements are advanced magic and I am but a novice. Maybe someone from Skellig knows?”

Casca poked the rocks and the tower wavered then fell over. Farnese knelt to help her re-stack them. How could some words carved into stone and small rocks bring down the wrath of The Holy See? She would think the thoughts foolish if not for the burning question: What would she have done if she saw this monument? Pyres would line the churchyard as the townsfolk watched their loved ones burn: the screams and smell of roasting flesh dragging out the ecstasy.

“M’lady,” called Serpico. The bodyguard watched Farnese from the church. “I am done with Guts. Would you mind accompanying me to gather firewood?” Go, she will be fine whispered in her mind before she could ask. The pair walked through the town in silence. Serpico stared off into the construction as though his mind was somewhere else. She wanted to touch his hair and see if she could view his thoughts but she felt violated when Flora so casually reached into her mind. Even if he never knew what she did, she wouldn’t subject Serpico to that.

They ventured into the south woods under the guard tower’s watchful gaze. Serpico picked up a branch as Farnese looked over the thin debris layer covering the ground.

“I’m sorry for my failure,” said Serpico. “My inability to let you do anything on your own held you back. We could have gone to any port in the south but I steered us to Vritannis because I was afraid you were in over your head but this was everything you needed. I didn’t trust your assessment and for that I’m sorry. I’m proud of you and your accomplishments since we left Albion. As much as it pains me to say, the only way you will continue growing into the person you are meant to be is if I leave your presence.”

Farnese wrapped Serpico in her arms and nuzzled her head into his shoulder.

“You’re always so serious,” said Farnese confused by the mix of pride and sadness invoked by his words. “You pledged to serve me your whole life and I won’t let you out so easily.” Serpico dropped the wood then reciprocated her hug.

“I have caused you suffering. I’m so sorry,” said Serpico. Farnese shushed him then enjoyed the rare moment of contact. She let go once the silence grew awkward and the gesture over stayed it’s welcome. Serpico regathered his meager collection while Farnese gathered small sticks for kindling. A wind cutter flew into a fallen tree cutting the trunk into logs.

“Who would have thought magic was real,” said Farnese. The feather duster slid back into it’s sheath. “Or that we would be traveling with a witch or that they were such interesting creatures.”

“It is mysterious,” said Serpico as he stacked the logs. “To think I found kinship with wind spirits. How ironic that someone who felt so grounded could feel a connection with being so free.” The words were not intended as such but Farnese felt them as a hard blow. A sudden sadness came over her at the thought that he was trying to free himself from her.

“Arggggg,” howled Isidro from the woods. Farnese and Serpico followed the noise to a closed eyed Isidro standing among trees. An acrid burning smell drifted on the air from black lumps laying at the boy’s feet. An acorn balanced on the salamander dagger’s flat side asIsidro mumbled. A ragging fire consumed the nut instantly. The flaming acorn fell as Isidro shook his head then jumped backwards when the fire reached his feet.

“What are you doing,” asked Serpico. The surprised boy looked at them.

“Ummm,” said Isidro shifting his eyes around, “tryin’ ta roast acorns… but they keep doin’ this. Jus’ burnin’ up.” He gestured towards the field of ash lumps.

“I can help you with control, if you would like,” said Serpico pulling out the feather duster. He held the blade before his face. “See those leaves?” Serpico’s eyes guided her gaze to a clump of budding leaves on a low branch. A small wind cutter freed the leaves. Another swipe produced a small tornado that held them in place on the path.

“You need to say a little prayer then visualize what you want them to do,” said Serpico, “You’re the type of person who does things all or nothing and the Salamanders react to you and that’s why the fire bursts so strongly. You need to work on your patience. Hold up the blade and don’t try to make fire. Think only of making it a little warmer. Warm enough to touch but not warm enough to burn.” Serpico directed Isidro’s free hand over the blade. “Trust that your spirits won’t harm you. Do you feel it?”

Farnese sat against a tree in the shade looking at her silver blade. Spirits of Death avail yourself to her. Nothing happened. She held the blade high pretending that it turned black, visualizing the swirling blackness but nothing happened. She felt the eyes of the two men upon her and embarrassed at her own incompetence. The dagger slid back into it’s sheath then she hung her head hoping to disappear.

“M’lady,” said Serpico, “do you want to return home?” He pulled her upright by the hand. Isidro held a dry leaf over the dagger. A single salamander jumped from the blade, swam a black hole through the leaf then dove into the blade. The leaf caught fire and he watched it burn.

“HOT, HOT, HOT,” yelled the boy. The leaf floated down as he frantically waved his hand. His ragged shoes stomped out the small fire. Farnese’s giggles caught his attention. The thought felt selfish like she was being a bad friend but in his moments of struggle, she felt a certain happiness to realize that she was not the only one.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Her muscles burned from the heavy wood when she reached the cabin. Schierke’s frantic voice carried through the door. The wood dropped onto the porch as Farnese scrambled inside. Guts’ legs hung off the bed as he seemed barely able to brace himself with both arms. Schierke’s palms waved at the Black Swordsman as she blocked him from standing. Casca rooted through Farnese’s bag by the fireplace.

“Guts,” implored Schierke, “you aren’t ready.” Guts leaned back preparing to push himself onto his feet.

“You lay down this instant,” said Farnese walking to the bed before taking her stern mistress pose.

“But...,” said Guts.

“No buts,” said Farnese, “you’re going to hurt yourself. What are you thinking? If you injure yourself now, you will just delay us further.” Guts opened his mouth to talk. “Now!” The wounded man laid back then moaned. His arms folded across his chest as his lip pouted. She hated such a vulgar, childish display from a man she respected somuch but at the same time she was glad to see him with so much energy.

The white splotches dappling his salt and pepper hair mixed with the constant pain from his un-healing wounds made Guts look ten years older than he did a month ago. The fresh bandages on his chest already stained light pink. Her fingers ran through his hair and his sour expression dissolved into shock. She lingered on a thin white skunk streak running up the middle. “How old are you?”

“Twenty five,” huffed Guts. What could cause someone so young to age so unnaturally fast? Puck and Ivalera floated over the blossoming red streak on his bandages. Sparkling powder like grains of sunshine floated from their wings onto the wet spots. The elf powder dried the pooling blood as Gut’s pained face calmed again. Her hands lingered in his hair as she thought of Schierke’s strand tied around her finger. What forbidden fruit waited to be plucked? Guts watched her from the corner of his eyes and she moved her hand as though caught.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hannah washed Casca’s hands from the chairs by the window. The mute woman watched Guts hobble around the room with the aid of a cane and Farnese’s shoulder. Guts’ massive body weighted down Farnese like she was trying to support a tree.

“One more step,” said Schierke. The man’s iron physique pushed harder into Farnese’s body. Her hand reached up to his chest trying to steady him as his foot lifted off the ground. Where was Serpico when the heavy lifting was needed? Yet, she wasn’t entirely opposed to this work. Sweat beaded on his shirtless chest. To her surprise, she found his musk not unpleasant, maybe even a little exciting. His iron muscles rippled while moving next to her body. The experience felt a little taboo, maybe a little forbidden. Heat reddened her cheeks as the man huffed in her arms. Maybe, she could come to find this work quite agreeable. His foot pounded into the floor boards as though someone dropped a cannon ball. “Good, now another.”

The cane wobbled then broke contact with the floor. The monstrous man’s legs gave out as he tumbled on top of Farnese. The rigid silver shirt protected her from his crushing weight but for a moment she wished she wasn’t wearing it. Her arms wrapped around his back as she stared into his confused, startled eyes. How she longed for him to look at her like this as more than an accident. How she wished he would smile: the warmth directed only at her. Casca looked down at them and Farnese’s wicked desires turned to sadness. Casca threw her chair over then pounded on Guts’ back.

“Ohhhh,” yelled Casca. The Black Swordsman winced as the blows rained down like a meat tenderizer.

“Ow,” said Guts, “Help! Get me out of here.” Schierke tried to help but she was no match for his bulk. Farnese’s hand pushed on his chest fueling her lust further. Guts’ shoulders and head pushed up driving his hips into hers and she groaned. Casca pounded his shoulder and head. The door creaked open. Schierke lost her grip on Guts and he tumbled onto Farnese. A loud, sensual moan escaped her. Firewood tumbled on the floor boards. Farnese’s arms wrapped around Guts neck as she pulled herself up enough to look over his shoulder. A mortified Serpico looked down at the pair like he was going to murder someone. The whole unfortunate experience was worth it just to see such emotion on his face. The overwhelming effort crumpled her as she fell backwards with another groan.

“A little help here,” said Guts. Serpico and Isidro rushed to the fallen warrior then grabbed an arm and with the help of Schierke lifted Guts up enough for Farnese to wiggle out. Casca wrapped her head in her arms.

“Harumph,” said Casca as she turned her nose up at Guts.

“I’m okay, my precious,” said Farnese as she reciprocated the hug. Isidro, Serpico, Farnese and Schierke struggled to lift Guts back onto his feet. A deep red line stained his chest as he laid on the bed. The Black Swordsman was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Guts hobbled down the cobblestone boulevard aided by a cane. A young girl pushing a hoop with a stick smiled at him.

“Good Morning,” said the girl’s father tipping his hat.

“Mornin’,” said Guts with a gruffness that betrayed just how hard walking was. The early spring day was warm enough that he didn’t wear a shirt. His butchered, perforated body had mostly healed under the intense regiment of healing salve and elf dust. She could not see it, but according to Schierke the wounds to his ethereal body were still quite severe.

The little witch and Farnese trailed behind Guts. They wouldn’t leave the vicinity of Hannah’s house for fear of his wounds incapacitating him but he was making good progress. When the rest of the town heard their savior was mobile again, they made a point of coming by just to say hello. Guts protested these walks saying they were embarrassing but she liked to believe he was grateful for the attention.

“I met mistress Flora quite by happenstance,” said Schierke. “We went on a trip to Vritannis to see a human city but I was separated from the group at the border. Flora found me wandering the country side. I knew who she was of course, everyone knows. She was famous in the Magi world until she self exiled two hundred years ago.

“She was nothing like I dreamed... Miserable… bitter… living her days alone in the spirit tree. Outwardly she was quite pleasant but underneath there was a melancholy. I begged my parents to let me intern with her and it ended up being the best decision of my life.” The Priest walked by, smiled then waved to Guts who struggled to return the gesture while leaning on the cane.

“Why does the Holy See hate witches so much,” asked Farnese. The young girl stared ahead as though Farnese had just asked her the most important question in the world.

“I don’t know, not really,” ventured Schierke, “We learn of The Holy See, naturally, and the uniform belief system but that side… the human side… was never really part of the discussion. It was as though the world outside of the Magi was a distant realm that existed only as an idea. The children thought, ‘Why would anyone not want the benefits of magic?’ and the adults never offered more than a collective shrug.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I’m gonna be the best eva,” said Isidro. Water splashed out of the bucket as they walked up the river bank. Casca held Farnese’s arm as they navigated the muddy steep incline. “Even better than Guts!” Farnese admired the young man’s enthusiasm. What he lacked in tack, he more than made up in his willingness to jump right into things and a strange cunning that defied her understanding but seemed to work out in the end. “Are you still try’n ta learn the sword? I can teach ya!” Farnese laughed then covered her mouth as the boy deflated.

“I’m sorry, no,” said Farnese, “the blade doesn’t suit me.” Although his immaturity was grating sometimes, underneath the bravado and impulsiveness was a little boy just trying to figure out his place. She was a better part of a decade older than him and still trying to understand the same thing so who was she to judge?

“I can’t wait for the big man to get better so he can show me somethin’ badass,” said Isidro. “And bombs! He needs ta get me more bombs! Bombs and fire go togetha like salt ‘n wata’!” Isidro placed the bucket down once the ground evened out then pulled out his dagger. “I’m workin’ on control with your boyfriend.” The blade flared brightly then calmed down to a light orange glow before disappearing into the water.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Farnese. The boy’s eyes shot to her.

“Really?!?!,” shrieked the boy. They traveled together for several months and he still didn’t know such basic information about his companions? That was her fault, she supposed. Farnese was so busy with Casca, Guts and Schrieke that she hardly had time for Serpico let alone Isidro. “Brother?”

“No, he is… was my servant, now he’s just a friend,” said Farnese. The boy shook his head then turned his attention to the bucket.

“I’m warmin’ the water but not the bucket. Watch,” said the boy. Bubbles formed in the water and soon it was in a rolling boil. “Cool as a cucumba’!” He touched the bucket side then whelped in pain, jumped to his feet and waved his hand in the air.

“Let me see,” said Farnese. A light pinkness stained his finger tips. “Oh my!” Farnese kissed his fingers. “All better.” He cradled his hand by his chest.

“Ya know, I ain’t a kid,” said Isidro. The smile on his face said otherwise.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The troll army raided the church courtyard. Guts tore apart the never-ending hoard one giant swing at a time but it was no use, there were simply too many of them. He looked up at her on the roof.

“M’lady,” said Serpico, “Everyone’s depending on you!” Her hands looked tiny in the puffy brown robe sleeves. She lifted the staff. White cloud like spirals of fire descended from a sky glowing as though the sun came directly over them. The fire touched the ground then burst in a white glowing aura that engulfed the whole courtyard. Trolls burst into flame as the barrier spread. Thier corpses disintegrated like sand castles in the surf. The peasant crowd cheered for her. “You did it!” “Magic!” “She cast real magic!” The power and the mystery were hers to command. The unassailable fortress of her mind housed miracles like those from the days of old.

A smiling Guts looked up at her from the courtyard.

“Guts,” shouted Guts with the voice of Schierke. “Where’s Guts!?!” The young girl’s voice grew frantic as Farnese struggled out of sleep. A witch’s hat blocked light streaming in from the cabin window. The head disappeared as she sat up. “Monkey boy get up!” Schierke shook Isidro and he turned his back.

“Go away, I’m sleepin’,” said Isidro. Serpico sat up from the floor by the fireplace.

“Guts, his armor and sword are all gone,” said Schierke. Farnese jumped from bed fully dressed already. “I’m afraid that he’s off doing something stupid!” Isidro pulled himself up as Farnese strapped on her silver dagger. Hannah exited the small bedroom off the main room. “Can you watch Casca?” Hannah nodded and with that they were out the door.

Serpico jumped on the roof then bounded north across the river. Farnese traveled up the main boulevard towards the church.

“Guts,” she yelled. “GUTS!” A man in all black armor carrying a massive sword should be easy to find. He felt better but not good enough to venture far in his heavy armor. By the time she finished scolding the pig-headed man, he’ll wish he had passed out somewhere.

A crowd gathered in the church courtyard as the Priest looked down at a pudgy man wearing a bowler hat and inquisitor robe. The grave Priest scowled while the peasants around the courtyard looked terrified.

“Guts,” yelled Farnese. A peasant woman’s tear-filled eyes caught her. Her hands squeezed the shoulders of a young girl wearing her finest frock.

“Heresy,” shouted the Inquisitor, “for a man of God such as yourself to erect a pagan monument. Trolls, witches, monsters, water spirits! Have you all gone mad?”

“It’s true,” shouted the Village Chief. The burly bearded man shrunk under the Inquisitors gaze.

“True? None of this nonsense is true! There is only one truth,” said the Inquisitor. As if sensing impending danger, the Inquisitor turned away from the grumbling crowd. “We will find the truth, believe me!” Father Zelo’s eyes met Farnese. He smiled then embraced her.

“Miss Farnese! Blessed be God! Walk with me child,” said Father Zelo placing his arm around her shoulders before walking down the street.

“What brings you to this village,” asked Farnese. The villagers huddled at the church stairs. What would happen to these good people once Father Zelo reported them to The Holy See? The Inquisition would shake the peasants in its blood soaked jaws as it turned this village into a death camp.

“Keep walking,” pleaded Father Zelo as they headed towards the courtyard exit. “Providence, my good child. Providence! I was passing through and came across that heretical vulgarity by the church. The church! Aghast, how horrid! And now the missing Vandimion daughter. God truly blessed this trip! We must report as soon as possible. A full inquisition…” The silver dagger plunged into his stomach. The soft man looked down at her hand buried in his flesh. His uncomprehending eyes pleaded with her for an explanation. Blood poured from the wound as the blade left him. “Why… what?” Her arm piston-ed death as the thirsty silver perforated him without resistance. He fell to the ground. Farnese straddled him, lifted the dagger over her head with both hands then stabbed through his rib-cage, piercing his heart with a wet crack.

“Hnnnnn,” wheezed Farnese as she pulled the dagger. “Hnnnn…. Hnnnn….” Her head buzzed with a tight, stress induced pounding. The blade punctured his chest repeatedly in wild two handed plunges. The Inquisitor’s life gave out yet she kept stabbing. Bones crunched as her hungry blade shredded apart the corpse.

“Miss,” said the Chief. The adrenaline fueled pulsing gave out as her tension melted away. She held her blood soaked hands towards the scowling Priest as though begging for absolution.

“What have you done,” asked the Priest.

“Bury him where none may find him,” said Farnese. “Act as though he were never here. Tell them nothing even under pain of torture as it won’t save you anyway.” A white moth floated from the corpse then landed on her chest. A lingering cold pressed where the moth disappeared into her. Her hands hugged the cold to hide her shame. She stood aware of the blood all over her clothes and hands. Was that the right thing to do? If they just sacrificed a few people to the inquisition then it’s bloodlust would have been satiated. Now it may come to nothing or total devastation. Maybe the inquisitor brought total devastation from the beginning.

Schierke’s voice entered her mind: We have found him under the bridge. Farnese ran up a small road lined with homes headed towards the river. Scherike, Isidro, Serpico, and Guts watched her run down the bank. Serpico looked at her with his stoic gaze and Guts smiled. The woman connected into his chest then wrapped her arms around him.

“Guts,” said Farnese. A heavy hand rested on her head.

“What’s gotten into you,” asked Guts. She saved the village or doomed it and the worst part was she didn’t know which. “I’m strong enough now so let’s hurry.”

“Yes,” said Farnese, “let us go.” Serpico looked at the blood on her sleeves then made eye contact. She buried her other cheek into Gut’s chest unable to bear Serpico’s inquiring gaze.

“What did you do,” asked Serpico. Farnese fished for an answer but could not think of one. She cried into the cold, unyielding steel. “Who’s blood is that?”

She sniveled then wiped away the tears leaving a blood streak across her cheek. Guts grabbed her wrist then pulled her blood soaked hand closer to his face.

“I…,” stammered Farnese, “I… the inquisition, I had to…”

Guts dropped her wrist then continued up the river bank. Schierke clutched her hat over her chest and shrunk away from Farnese’s gaze. Isidro followed Guts.

“What’s done is done,” said Guts. “Wash off and lets get out of here.” Schierke left Casca, Serpico and Farnese standing under the bridge. The slow moving water goose pimpled her flesh as pink clouds swirled within the clearness. Blood stains trailed up her sleeves and splotched her shirt. She fumbled with the buttons until Serpico’s fingers intervened.

“Father Zelo, he was going to report the village to the inquisition,” said Farnese. Her eyes met his stoic gaze that neither asked for an explanation or required one. “I had to.” The shirt came off then entered the water in a red streak.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Cloistered within the veiled garden of the Vandimion Compound, Farnese only visited the ocean a few times. The vast rolling blue never held much for the girl who lived in a mansion that seemed endless in its own way. All of that changed as Farnese stood on a cliff overlooking the beach. Early evening twilight gave the endless blue a light orange sparkle. The salty breeze blowing off the sea nipped at her skin. Schierke held her hat on with one hand. The ocean seemed no longer just a dead thing pulsing as it stretched to the horizon. Mysteries and truths she longed to uncover lied deep within its currents. Yet she found her eyes drawn south towards the highway. They couldn’t be more than half a day’s walk from the curse and bounty of the Vandimion’s ancestral home.

“IT’S… SO… BIG,” shouted Isidro taking off towards the beach followed by the walking party.

“FREAKIN’ HUGE,” called the boy. His backpack tumbled through the sand followed by his carrier bag. He hopped on one foot while pulling off his shoes. His jacket and shirt joined the rest.

The boy launched into the air, spread his arms then crashed into the shallow surf. Farnese laughed as the boy stood covered in wet sand looking back as though confused as to why the ocean wasn’t as deep as his imagination.

“That looks like fun,” said Serpico. The boy bounded through the surf kicking up water as he left the rest behind.

“What a child,” said Ivalera, “Gettin’ worked up just seein’ the sea. It’s just a big puddle! And it’s sticky and stinks like salt. Right Schierke?” The witch stood just outside the wave’s reach staring into the sparkling blue vastness.

“I understand Isidro grew up in the mountains, so it comes as no surprise,” said Serpico. The elf flew to the girl then lifted the brim of her hat.

“Right Schierke,” asked Ivalera. The wind blew Schierke’s hat down the beach like a tumble weed before stopping at Guts’ feet. The Black Swordsman gingerly bent down to pick it up. His hand trembled as he held out the rogue clothing. The girl took her hat. Guts inspected his shaking fingers before stopping it with a fist.

“Guts,” said Schierke, “Uhhhh, are you all right?”

“My body’s not all that delicate,” said Guts, “don’t worry.”

“But,” interrupted Schierke, “you really should take off that armor and rest for at least four or five more days.”

Casca ran after Isidro and Farnese followed. Guts and Schierke’s conversation became inaudible over the rolling tide. She wished to hear it but the shore provided countless ways for Casca to hurt herself. A crab scuttling along the shallow water found itself in Casca’s grip. She examined it against the fading light as though it were a jewel. Frantic pincers waved about warning the woman to let it go before clamping on her thumb. Casca yelped then crushed the small crustacean. Her finger poked the dead crab as though she thought it was just tired and needed a reminder to play some more. When the creature moved no more, she dropped it into the surf and ran towards Isidro who kicked the water as he played.

Farnese grabbed Casca’s shoulders then shook her head no.

“M’lady,” said Serpico. “I have missed the breeze off the ocean. We should make seafood stew for dinner.” Casca took her momentary distraction to slip Farnese’s grip and run into the ocean fully dressed. Farnese stopped at the water’s edge not wanting to get her clothing wet and salty. Casca walked behind the marching Isidro. For a second she felt like she watched her children play. Serpico’s hands covered her shoulders as he stood behind her. What did she do to deserve such a strong sense of belonging? Was this what it was like to be loved? To feel loved?

Casca ran into an approaching wave then fell into it with her arms open.

“Come back to the shore honey, you don’t want to get swept out,” called Farnese. Casca returned to her feet then ran further into the water. Her desire to stay dry and comfortable were distant memories while Casca played dangerously. Farnese handed Serpico her traveling bag and satchel then waded waist deep before dragging her to the shore.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The young witch sat with her feet buried in the sand and robe pulled up to her knees. The sun filled the distant horizon with yellow red fire. Isidro practiced his sword while waist deep in the water. Guts watched over him.

“M’lady,” said Serpico, “we should find shelter.”

“Go ahead,” called Guts. Serpico and Farnese took the highway south to the city square. Although larger than the rural villages that dotted the backwoods highway, the small city contained little more than an inn, church and houses. A general store and pub met them in the Inn’s lobby. A bearded man wearing unusually fine linens for a peasant stood behind the counter.

“We are looking for accommodations for six,” said Serpico.

“Oh,” said the man rubbing his beard. “’fraid the inn’s full tonight. We got an ol’ cottage down by the water. Reckon it’s the wrong season for it, might’n be a bit drafty an’ cold. None-a-tha lords goin’ ta Vritannas could stand it. Ev’n has its own kitchen.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Serpico.

Farnese wandered the crowded pub wondering how such an out of the way place could have so many people. Old men played a game of dominoes at the table by the door.

“Did you hear girl,” said a gray haired man beneath a worn out black tri-corner hat. “They say the band of the hawk saved Princess Charlotte.”

“I’m afraid I do not know who that is,” said Farnese. The old man gave her the side eye before returning to his game.

“You been livin’ under a rock, missy.” said the man. “The Kushan sacked Wyndham and killed most everyone livin’ there and captured Princess Charlotte. Here say the old band of the hawk, the heroes from the 100 year war been going ‘round the country side attackin’ the Kushan. Here say their old leader, Griffith went right through the heart’a the whole army ta free her. Here say the Kushan been using black magic and that’s why the whole Holy See Dominion’s gatherin’ at Vritannas to declare war on um.”

“Oh,” said Farnese. There was that name again, Griffith. From here on out everything has to do with Griffith.

“Say miss,” said the man, “anyone ever tell ya you look like the missin’ princess?”

“Real shame,” said another player. “What happened to the Holy Iron Chain Knights. Say they were come upon by the Kushan Army while protecting Albion. Didn’t stand a chance.”

Serpico carried cloth bags bursting with food to the table.

“Well gentleman, it was nice meeting you all,” said Farnese. She took Serpico’s arm then left the inn.

Schierke’s voice whispered into her head with a picture of a dilapidated cabin on the beach: Everyone meet here. Night took hold in the brief time they walked to a small path descending slick stairs carved into the rock cliff to a cabin by the sea.

Casca sat on a chair next to an empty fireplace. She smelled of salt water and sweat. Farnese lifted her out of the seat then took the woman to a spare bedroom with her backpack. Casca’s spare robe was covered in juice stains and grime. Farnese changed the woman all the same as anything would be better than the itchy, irritating salt covered robe. At times like this she wished Casca would be a little cleaner. The never ending chore of washing their clothing had come upon her again much sooner than she wished.

Serpico stacked wood under the tripod in the fireplace. Guts entered with Isidro while Schierke looked through the contents of Serpico’s shopping bags. Guts removed his gauntlets and arm armor. Before she could process what was happening, a bandage covered Guts stood by the door naked from the waist down. Schierke dropped a cloth sack on the table as she stared at him rummaging through his backpack. Farnese’s hands covered Schierke’s eyes then turned her away.

“What are you doing,” protested Schierke. “This isn’t anything I haven’t seen before! Stop treating me like a child!” The young witch tried to pull from her hands but Farnese held her tight. Guts laughed.

“A life time of livin’ with mercenaries and I don’t think of stuff some times,” said Guts. He put on ragged black trousers. Serpico took the cloth bag from the table then cut up an onion and garlic. Guts sat at the table. Schierke cut off the blood speckled bandages to reveal a chest covered in holes and scars. Ivalera and Puck showered yellow sparkles while Schierke rubbed the dust into his back. Farnese tied a clothing line between two fixtures then hung Casca’s robe up to dry.

“Looks good, what is it,” asked Isidro. Casca looked over Serpico’s shoulder as he dropped muscles into the bubbling broth.

“Bouillabaisse style seafood nabe,” said Serpico.

“You have made progress but you still must not push yourself,” said Schierke. Her hand floated over his back as she closed her eyes.

“Yea, I feel a lot better,” said Guts.

“May I help,” asked Farnese. She picked up the healing salve without waiting for an answer then spread it across his chest. Why was her hand hovering over his back? Was Schierke trying to use magic on him? Was she reading his thoughts or casting a spell? Farnese paused for a second over his chest then closed her eyes. Nothing happened. Farnese and Schierke finished covering him in potion then Schierke redrew the talisman over his brand. Farnese cut new bandages from white cloth then wrapped him once the talisman was complete. The delicious aroma of Serpico’s seafood filled the cabin by the time they wrapped the warrior.

Soon everyone had a steaming bowl of open muscles in a reddish broth full of chopped vegetables and seafood. Hers tasted like a small piece of heaven compared to the foraged food and salted meats they ate since leaving the water spirit’s village.

“This is my first bounty of the sea in so long,” said Serpico, “I wished to practice my art.” Guts winced as he took a bite. “Is it too salty?”

“It just reminded me of the cuts in my mouth,” said Guts, “This stuff’s good.”

“What’s with that hair though,” said Isidro as he bit his spoon. “You don’t look like the Black Swordsman now. The Slightly-white Swordsman.”

Casca took one bite of the hot stew, panicked then spilled the bowl all over the floor.

“I finished your alterations,” said Serpico. Farnese spooned some of her stew, blew on it then fed it to a reluctant Casca. The woman pushed away her arm but Farnese persisted. The spoon entered her mouth then her eyes shot open.

“Ohhhh,” said Casca.

“Food,” said Farnese as she gathered another spoonful to blow on.

“Fwuuu,” said Casca as she leaned towards the spoon.

“Fwuuu,” said Farnese believing the sound was an attempt to mimic her words. The spoon disappeared into Casca’s mouth.

“That takes care of your clothing makeover for now,” said Serpico looking over Guts. “Your equipment layout is now altered with ease of use in mind.”

“Not bad,” said Guts reaching all over the bangalour then his pouch. “You’re a handy guy.”

“What kinda place is your homeland anyway,” asked Isidro. Puck floated next to the boy as he refilled his bowl from the boiling cauldron.

“Elfhelm,” said Puck using a minature spoon like a sword, “A utopia amidst the sea, far to the west. The flowers blossom. The birds sing and the elves dance the day away etc.”

“Elf-hell,” said Isidro.

“Not Elf Hell,” said Puck, “Elf-HELM”

“It’s swarmin with guys like you, right,” asked Isidro, “Elf-Hell”

“I have heard of it from my mistress,” said Schierke. “On a legendary island in the western sea, an island called Skellig. Like the forest of the spirit tree, it belongs to the interstice, so it is unrecorded in that area of ocean and regular humans cannot reach it. It is said that many magicians live with the elves on that island. I have always wanted to see it once with my own eyes.”

Farnese wiped Casca’s mouth with a silk handkerchief as she watched Schierke talk. The wonder and power were no longer something she could only admire from a distance. Isidro approached Schierke and she bonked him in the head with her staff. Farnese would regret the decision to do nothing. The opportunity untaken would be an albatross hung about her neck for the rest of her days.

“Um Schierke,” said Farnese as she approached the bickering children. “I have an earnest request to make. Would you take me on as your pupil so I may learn magic?”

“La… Lady Farnese,” croaked Serpico, “What did you just say?” Her knee connected with the hard wood so she could be at Schierke’s eye level.

“Would you be willing to teach me magic,” asked Farnese. She ignored the excited chatter from the party. Farnese made up her mind that she wanted this and no words of discouragement would dissuade her. Her hands clutched Schierke’s hand. “I have been thinking about it ever since the trolls! To be honest, my heart trembled that time so much dread and excitement at all the miracles you caused... at the art called magic. In this unknown world, into which I took my first steps, I was powerless. I just hugged my knees and cowered but when the time came that I had to protect someone, even one such as I... what gave me that courage was Casca and the magic dagger I got from you!” Farnese removed the silver dagger then held it towards Schierke like someone awaiting a king to knight her.

“But that is just a silver knife so…,” said Schierke. Farnese brought her intense eyes to Schierke who backed away.

“To me the dagger was undeniably magical,” said Farnese. “Flora said accept the great mysteries and explore the entire universe from within your world. That is the way of magic. If there is a light of reason that illuminates the unknown darkness then please I ask you to impart it to me.”

“It is said that magic is quite unmasterable if one can remember a time when they did not study it,” said Schierke. “That is because more than any other reason, as a person ages they become bound by the world view of the physical world before their eyes and those prejudices become harder to abolish. But you have been through some thoroughly dreadful experiences so that does not seem to be a concern. I am still in training myself but I think I can at least teach the basics.”

“Thank you so much teacher,” shouted Farnese. Serpico laughed out loud then put his hands to his head.

“Zwagghh, L-L-Lady Farnese…,” said Serpico, “A witch?!?” Farnese took a spell book from the table and handed it to Schierke.

“First, let’s learn the basics,” said Schierke.

One can find their destiny in strange places. Farnese always looked for someone else to fill the emptiness. She found that reason not in the towering pillar of strength that was the Black Swordsman or the Vandimion name or leading an army or even the relentless support of her close friend. In the end, she needed someone weaker than herself and a girl still finding her own place in the world to teach her to fill her emptiness with her own strength.

Chapter 12: Restless Night

The sun barely peaked over the forest as an eager Guts limped down the small country highway.

“I know you’re anxious to continue,” said Schierke, “but we should rest a few days.”

“No, I’m fine,” said Guts, “We’re almost there. I can rest on the ship.”

“Mistress,” said Farnese, “If you don’t mind, may we begin my instruction?”

“Where to start,” mused the young witch. “If you look at a portrait of a ship from a distance, you would see distinct things: the ship, the sea, the clouds. But if you examine that same painting very closely, you would see an intricate layer of brush strokes. Our reality exists like that painting. Non-magical people view the physical world from a distance. It’s the tree over there, the water you drink or the ocean breeze. Wholes. Solid Objects. Existence. Magi view the layering of all energies that make up the physical world like the brush strokes. We call that ‘OD’. Every living being has another form constructed from its Life Energy called the Ethereal body. It’s our minds, our thoughts, our feelings. Magi have learned to separate the ethereal body from the physical body to manipulate the energy within the OD.

“Magi manipulate energy in many ways. Fetishes are items enchanted with spirits like Serpico’s sword or Isidro’s dagger. They bond with the owners and grant them their power. The stronger the spirit, the stronger the fetish. How well the fetish works depends on how strong that person’s attunement. Serpico and monkey boy have unusually strong affinities which is why they have become so strong despite having no magical training.

“Fetishes that use secondary elements are said to be cursed. Gut’s armor is inhabited by a darkness spirit called a Kitsune. The darkness spirit craves above all to twist the user to its will. My mistress carved a seal into the armor to protect Guts’ life force from being corrupted by the spirit but it still exacts a heavy price. Magi can use low level curses quite safely. For instance the hair tied around our fingers or storing sunlight in a staff.

“Witches have infused elemental energy into a slew of salves, potions, charms, and ointments that don’t require the use of the Witch’s OD or any attunement. Anyone, even non-magical people could use them. Their creation requires extensive knowledge of the magical properties of plants, animals, and minerals.

“Spells are basically prayers to spirits to perform a task. The OD of an area has a great effect on any given spell. Fire Magic becomes more potentent when the sun is out or you are by a fire source. Staves are made from the branches of spirit trees and act as conduits for collecting and discharging elemental OD. Without the staff, the OD would have nowhere to congregate so they couldn’t respond to my spell.

“Invocations are the highest level spells. The caster makes contracts with great spirits to lend you their power in exchange for some of your OD. Unfortunately, at this stage of my training, I don’t have much experience with invocations that is why the water spirit so easily controlled me. I could teach you the invocation of the Kings when the time comes, but unfortunately teaching you others is beyond me.

The Black Swordsman stopped.

“Guts, is something the matter,” asked Schierke. Guts swayed as he stared down the road.

“Guts,” asked Farnese reaching for his shoulder. The large man’s metal armor clanked off the road. Schierke placed two fingers on his neck.

“Guts, are you OK,” asked Schierke, “GUTS.” Farnese held her hand over her mouth as the young witch held her hands over his chest.

“Big guy,” asked Isidro. Serpico, Isidro, and Farnese stood over the immobile man as the young girl checked him.

“Can you hear…,” said Schierke. An armored hand grabbed her wrist.

“Quit fawnin’ over me like a baby,” said Guts. The Black Swordsman groaned as he pulled himself up.

“That’s it,” said Farnese, “We are returning to town and resting several days and I will hear no objections.”

“But we’re almost there,” objected Guts.

“You won’t do anyone any good in this condition,” said Farnese.

“Ok, mom,” said Guts. Farnese’s cheeks flushed at the insult as disappointment soured his face.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Serpico hummed as he stirred a pot over the hearth. The tune vaguely resembled the nursery rhyme she learned as a baby. The relic from her childhood slipped into her mind at unexpected times. She sang the same song when she brushed Casca’s hair or did the laundry. Why was he thinking of her song now? Had the tune slipped into his subconscious from observing her? Had he really kept such a close eye on her? Her thoughts turned to that poor girl she thought she was saving. Theresia had the right to choose her own path. Farnese was not the arbiter of who lived and who died.

Schierke handed Farnese a small black book with a red and gold pentagram embossed into the cover. Illustrations decorated pages opposite a strange but vaguely familiar language that didn’t seem right, like writing one sees in a dream.

“Spell books are written in the Ancient Tongue, the language of the Magi that predates the common tongue,” said Schierke. “You will have to learn it if you want to become a real witch. I don’t expect you to learn it simply by seeing it but familiarize yourself with it.”

“Beach time,” shouted Isidro. A stiff salty breeze wafted into the cabin as the boy, only wearing a tattered old pair of shorts, shivered in the doorway. “Ahhh, here we go!” The door slammed then his feet pounded down the porch.

The Black Swordsman watched the sunset from a window facing the sea. The young witch cleared her throat and Farnese retreated into the book. An illustrated knife cut through a crudely drawn vegetable that she couldn’t tell if it was a human heart or an onion. Was this some kind of joke? Had the young witch given her a cookbook to study? Farnese gave up trying to make sense of the gobbly-gook words and flipped through the pictures. One colorful illustration of a flower had a strange resemblance to a vagina at the right angle. She giggled.

A shirtless Guts plopped down on a chair across the table. The young witch slathered healing salve on his back while he watched Farnese. The awkward attention made her too nervous to continue flipping through the pages.

“Did I interrupt your lesson,” said Guts. Farnese blushed as she turned the book around. He examined the vaginal flower for a moment even turning the book upside. “I don’t get it.” The leather tome dropped into the table. The young witch’s smile didn’t match the sadness in her eyes. Was she developing a little crush on Guts? Schierke was so strong, mature and serious that Farnese forgot sometimes that she was such a little girl. But Farnese wasn’t much older than her when she developed her first crush.

A dangling apple interrupted Farnese’s thoughts. She plucked the fruit from Schierke’s hand.

“You must learn to read OD before you can do anything,” said Schierke. “Close your eyes.” Farnese’s eyelids shut. “Visualize the apple as it sits in your hand with your mind.” Farnese tried to conjure an image of an apple but it was fuzzy, incomplete like a child’s picture. That substance-less image sat over the darkness, imposed as though it were separate from anything real. Farnese’s breath calmed as she concentrated on her hands. Maybe she could see through touch? The apple had substance now but all she saw was darkness. “What do you see?”

“Nothing,” said Farnese, “I see blackness.”

“I am not surprised one such as yourself cannot view OD,” said Schierke. Farnese opened her eyes again. Schierke’s eyes were on Guts who watched Casca help Serpico make dinner by stealing carrots while he wasn’t looking. “You must spend at least an hour a day in meditation until you can see the essence of the apple in your mind. Teaching reminds me of the time I spent with my Mistress…” Schierke pulled on her hat then tugged the brim down to cover her eyes. “Work on this… I require some air.” The girl disappeared through the front door.

The apple remained a mystery within her grasp. Was she truly so pathetic that she couldn’t see something as simple as fruit within her mind’s eye? Life Energy… OD… Ethereal bodies… Spirits… Magic’s language was so strange, so different. How could she master something so outside the grasp of her understanding? Farnese sighed and tried to visualize the apple again. The smooth red skin blotched with a black spot just under the stem. Her finger traced the ridges along the bottom. She owed Schierke a try at least. Her whole life no one gave her a chance. Sir Carideo wouldn’t teach her the sword. The Holy See truly ran the Holy Iron Chain Knights. Guts refused to teach her the sword as did Serpico. Schierke was the only one who believed in her competence enough to teach her. Farnese thought on the girl’s eyes watching the Black Swordsman watch Casca. No pleasure came from seeing her old friend Longing take home in a mind so young and vulnerable. Schierke had likely never known a man before meeting Guts and providing such intimate care can produce strange effects. Did the Black Swordsman know? She doubted it; he was a man oblivious to all but danger and battle.

Farnese put the apple on the table then picked up the spell book. She pretended to read as her eyes peered towards Serpico cooking. Schierke’s crush reminded her of her own and how poorly she handled it. Guts was closed off to the world and his heart was set on Casca. Surely one as intelligent with thoughts so clear could see this. Was Farnese really the one to judge her? Farnese’s impure thoughts often came bubbling to the surface. Guts and Serpico were both out of her reach yet she kept groping for them, longing for them. Wanting… Always wanting…

“Kids shouldn’t be wanderin’ alone at night,” said Guts. The fully armored swordsman stood over her. Her knees quaked as the fierce warrior looked down at her. Was Farnese just projecting her own desires onto the little girl? Guts clanked out of the cabin.

“Oh no, ummm, please don’t,” pleaded Serpico. Casca squatted in the corner holding her robe and cloak above her waist. Farnese grabbed the apple then dragged Casca outside. Her back turned away from Casca squatting in the brush. The cold air dulled her touch ever so slightly as the night’s blackness added another layer of sensory deprivation. Maybe she could succeed deprived of these senses? Farnese held out the apple and closed her eyes. Nothing came to her. Her thoughts turned to the essence of the apple. What did it mean to be an apple? She pretended to grow on a tree surrounded by others. Now she was just being ridiculous.

“Casca,” called Farnese. The woman no longer squatted in the underbrush. She walked around the cabin but Casca wasn’t there either. Footprints from the day’s activity poxed the chewed up sand. “CASCA!” Only the gentle crashing of waves returned her call. The little witch would know what to do.“SCHIERKE! Guts!”

Farnese pinched the hair tied to her pinkie and tried broadcasting her thoughts: Casca’s missing!No response came so she thought harder but still silence.

Farnese burst into the cabin. A surprised Serpico looked up from the cauldron as Farnese’s head darted from side to side. “Casca’s gone again!” Serpico removed the tripod from the flame then followed Farnese out the door.

Isidro shivered up the beach with his arms crossed over his naked chest.

“Help, Casca’s missing!” shouted Farnese.

“Le… let me g-get dressed,” said Isidro. Farnese walked down the beach shouting “Casca” and before she knew it darkness engulfed them. An orange light bobbed down the beach as Isidro held the salamander dagger like a torch. “What happened?”

“I brought her outside to relieve herself and she ran away,” said Farnese.

“Really,” said Isidro, “you took her to relieve herself and she walked off? As always not the quickest horse in the herd, there, Farny.” Serpico’s hand rested on his rapier’s hilt as he stared at Isidro from behind his stoic wall. The sea breeze howling off the ocean drew Farnese’s attention towards the moonlit black swells that tumbled into eternity.

“I don’t know what to say,” said Farnese, “I was meditating and lost track of her.”

“Maybe this’s a bad idea after all,” said Isidro, “Bein’ a witch and her babysitter makes for a full plate.” Farnese drew a fist to cover her quivering lip.

“Lady Farnese, at least wear this hood, you will catch cold,” said Serpico pulling an arm from the sylph hood.

“But,” said Farnese. The young boy walked down the beach followed by Puck floating after him. “Do you think the same?”

“M’lady,” said Serpico. Farnese caught her hand winding up to slap him then held it by her chest. Serpico held the same posture as when the Black Swordsman charged her in the Misty Valley. Her Serpico felt the same way. No words were needed to confirm it. “Where have Guts and the others gone at a time like this?”

“There,” shouted Puck pointing up the beach. A small figure sat hunched over just outside the tide’s reach. Farnese would have dove on her knees and rained kisses upon Casca’s precious head had she not been holding a small child. A light skinned toddler boy with raven black hair stared out into the ocean. Casca’s arms wrapped the boy as she rested her chin on his head.

“EVERYOOOONNNEEE,” shouted Schierke. The young witch held her hat down as she walked towards the party standing over Casca.

“Is there something the matter,” asked Schierke.

“Well, that,” said Isidro gesturing towards the child with his thumb. Guts’ eyes broadened. The naked boy squirmed then fell out of her cloak before turning his back on Guts and burying his face into her chest.

“Who is he,” asked Schierke.

“We don’t know, lost perhaps” ventured Serpico. “All alone out here, and naked to-boot.” Casca leveled angry eyes at Guts as she swaddled the child in her cloak.

“Anyway, let us return to the cabin,” said Schierke, “The child will freeze out here. There is good news you should all hear.” Farnese helped Casca to her feet. The woman lifted the child onto her shoulder keeping the cloak over his body. Guts stared up the cliffside as they walked off.

“Is something wrong,” asked Serpico.

“No,” said Guts.

Serpico’s stew filled the cabin with a salty, seafood smell that made Farnese’s mouth water. Casca placed the naked boy by the window as Serpico moved the tripod back. The Black Swordsman laid out the contents of his throwing knife bangalour on the floor by the entrance then removed a whetstone and oil from his backpack. A shrill metallic grinding screetched as he sharpened the blades.

“The Skull Knight said the King of the Elves in Elfheim may be able to save Casca,” said Guts without looking up from his work.

“Is that true,” blurted out Farnese. Serpico handed her a bowl that Casca immediately wrenched from her, spilling most.

“King Hanafubuku is said in legend to be a great elf king,” said Schierke, “I think there is little doubt.”

“This is wonderful news, Guts,” said Farnese. Casca spooned stew into the child’s mouth. A hunched over Guts barely able to keep his eyes open watched Casca feed the child. Although he seemed barely conscious, Farnese saw a strange contentment, as though he were a man who struggled his whole life indulging in a rare moment of peace. Casca looked so maternal feeding the boy. Sadness tinged her thoughts when she realized they made a beautiful couple.

“Guts,” said Farnese in a soft, pained way she never meant to be heard by anyone. Guts’ attention shifted to her. Serpico snapped a branch then fed it to the fire. Every eye was upon her.

“Yeah,” said the clueless Guts.

“They certainly have grown attached,” said Serpico.

“Still,” said Farnese, “Let’s check around local villages tomorrow.”

“What’s your name,” asked Isidro. The naked boy hid behind Casca’s back as Isidro got closer. “Where’d you come from? What a change in attitude… weird kid.” The child watched Guts around Casca. The Black Swordsman made eye contact and the boy disappeared. His contentment soured as he returned to sharpening the blades. The boy walked from Casca’s arms to Guts who still pretended to ignore him even as his eyes followed. Guts held a blade towards the light to examine the edge. The young one climbed his cloak like a cat on curtains.

“Wh… what,” stammered Guts, “Com’on!” The boy perched on his shoulder. His tiny hand groped down Guts’ armor over his brand. “Hey!”

“Maybe your armor fascinates him,” said Farnese. The boy pulled the breastplate’s neck as Guts swayed trying not to throw him off.

“Don’t just watch, do something,” pleaded Guts. Casca jumped to her feet then stormed the man.

“No sweat,” said Isidro, “it don’t wear out anyway.”

“Oooo,” shouted Casca as she reached for the boy. His little hand finally invaded the armor. Guts’ back jerked sending the child towards the knife pile. Guts and Casca caught him in their arms before he reached the deadly tools. Thier cheeks rested together as they examined the boy.

The surprised child looked at Farnese like a babe in his doting parent’s arms. He had Guts’ hair, Casca’s eyes and a skin tone that mixed Casca’s light cocoa with Gut’s stark white. They looked like the perfect family: mother, father and son.

“Hey Schierke,” said Ivalera, “Do somethin’! Get in there! Take what’s yours! Love’s a battlefield!” Schierke jammed the elf into her hat then shoved it on her head. The creature cursed and pitched a ruckus as the young girl blushed.

Farnese’s eyes stared blankly at the pages. Regardless of how many times she told herself that he would never be hers, she never wanted to believe it. Not really. She could not deny such overwhelming beauty. The Black Swordsman and Casca were meant to be together and she would do all in her power to ensure that came to pass. Although she used the book to hide her face, she could feel Serpico staring at her. Her silk sleeve wiped away the tears forming in her eyes, unsure of whether they were tears of happiness or sadness.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The undershirt fit the little boy like a night gown. Casca cuddled him on a bedroll next to Farnese who laid awake with her eye’s closed. She could feel Guts’ gaze upon them like heat from a fire. The man hadn’t stopped looking at the mysterious boy since he arrived. The usually free spirited Casca took to the child with an earnestness so uncharacteristic that Farnese wondered if this child could somehow be hers. Farnese’s eyes cracked open but she couldn’t make Guts out in the blurry yellowish haze so she opened them fully to find the man staring past her from the window. Guts’ eyes moved to her and they stared at each other until his attention turned out the window.

“What is she to you,” asked Farnese.

“You need to rest,” said Guts, “we leave for Vritannis in the morning.”

“Please, tell me,” implored Farnese, “I have used my body as a shield for her so many times. I have a right to know what I lay my life down for.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Guts. He stared out the window, unwilling or unable to look her in the eyes. The already fatigued man slumped down. His inhuman strength and size masked the growing weakness but Guts was being used up. He was shriveling like a raisin.

“How can a man who seems to feel so much always try to hold it inside,” asked Farnese. Guts adjusted his shoulders maintaining his view out the window. She waited for a reply that never came. “There are those who love you. Comfort and protection aren’t things that only you have to give. You should let others carry some of the burden.”

“Dependence is the burden of the strong,” said Guts.

“Maybe you need to be a little weak sometimes,” said Farnese. Guts scoffed. A thick white fog rolled in through the open window. Farnese would have thought it smoke if not for the lack of smell. Guts moaned then grabbed for the brand. Serpico sat up as the Black Swordsman moaned followed by Schierke then a half sleeping Isidro. Guts’ hand pulled away dappled in blood. Casca wiggled then burst into life with a scream. Farnese’s arms wrapped around the disoriented woman clutching to the young child. Casca’s hand gripped the robe over her brand as she panted.

“Guts,” said Schierke.

“What is it,” asked Serpico.

“Something’s coming hidden in the fog,” said Guts. The party jumped out of bed then dressed in a flurry of clothing. Farnese brought the moaning Casca onto her feet then soothed her as she ran her own fingers through the mysterious boy’s hair. Was Casca’s treatment of the child just a mimicry of how Farnese took care of her?

“Fun,” said Isidro, “it’s been a while since we saw any action!”

“The usual wraiths, perhaps,” asked Serpico

“The talismans are flawless,” said Schierke, “That should not be possible. This OD is closer to monsters who attacked the mansion of the spirit tree than to wraiths.” A loud thud rattled the cabin door followed by another. The pounding quickened as the wood cracked. Guts lifted the Dragon Slayer from the wall. The door shattered inward in a flurry of fragments. A giant lizard standing on rear legs covered in scaly leather roared then lunged for Serpico. The bodyguard jumped back as the dagger-like teeth closed on empty air. Farnese shrieked then dragged Casca and the boy further into the room. Her dagger shook at the beast as though the small blade could do anything against such a huge monster.

“Wh-what’s this friggin huge lizard,” shouted Isidro, “A dragon?!?”

“No,” said Serpico, “This is a crocodile, an animal from a foreign land.” The scaly monster stood on hind legs again clutching a spear in its thumb-less hand.

“It st-stood up,” said Isidro, “crocodiles’re crazy!” Isidro rolled as the spear flew past, smashing a barrel with an explosion of water. Guts’ repeating crossbow clicked as a shower of arrows smashed into its leathery hide. Arrows climbed its torso until several embedded in the reptilian skull. The monster roared then fell silent as death dragged down its lifeless body.

“This was produced by some kind of spirit dwelling in the animal,” said Schierke, “A magical life form. A kind of so called ‘familiar.’ A forbidden and taboo form of life magic. But just who would…”

“We have trouble,” shouted Serpico from the doorway, “A whole swarm of them!!”

“Ivalera,” said Schierke opening her bag. The elf removed cards from the bag then jammed one on the wall. “Tonight is a full moon. The time when the power of magic is most manifest. Even though this is not a church or holy ground, I can still affix the formation of the four Kings. Please buy me a little time until the completion of the spell. Farnese, please see to Casca and the child.”

“Y-Yes mam,” said Farnese. The child held on to Casca’s neck as she hugged him. Guts tied the Dragon Slayer to his hand using bandages.

“Guts,” said Schierke, “in your shape, you’re still…”

“I’m fine,” interrupted Guts. “This’ll be perfect for getting back into practice.”

“Couldn’t get outside if you wanted to, there’s so many,” said Serpico. A green army marched up the bank towards the cabin. Isidro threw berries and lizard men darted away. One berry landed in a creatures mouth. Its jaws blew open as flames consumed its face.

“Sweet, they burst open,” said Isidro. Serpico jumped out the door then floated towards the disoriented crocodiles. Two opened their mouths trying to catch the floating bodyguard like a snow flake. A raging wind slash sliced the creatures into pieces in a deadly tornado. Serpico jumped off the raging tornado then drifted towards another. A spear flew towards him only to avert in a sylph whirlwind dancing from his cloak.

A crocodile marched towards the door. Isidro rolled at the monster who dropped onto its belly then opened its mouth. The boy changed direction just enough to avoid rolling right into its snapping teeth. The monstrous jaws opened again awaiting the boy to come a second time. A berry flew into the mouth then exploded. The crocodile reared onto it’s back legs as Isidro stabbed its stomach with the salamander dagger. The creature burst into flames as fire ropes as thick as snakes burrowed through its flesh like worms in soil. Isidro rolled to another walking towards the house then slit its flank open with his short sword. The salamander dagger drove into the gushing wound. Fire consumed its body as it crawled away.

Farnese watched from the open window. The gale-ing wind rattled the open shutters. The smell of burning flesh floated on the breeze. Her bodygaurd and the boy dispatched the monsters with such ease even Guts hung back by the doorway to watch. Isidro followed the flaming crocodile talking to Puck. A half dozen beasts emerged from the mist. Isidro froze holding his daggers in a defensive position. Guts leapt over the flaming corpses then landed between Isidro and the approaching six. Although he moved with superhuman speed and agility, Farnese could see the wincing tension gripping his neck and face as the sword cleaved a monster down. The blade split a reptilian head in half at the jaw line before traveling through another’s arm. A spear shaft shattered as the colossal sword cut down another.

Serpico landed next to Isidro as Guts plowed through the swarm.

“WOW,” shouted Isidro, “S’like he’s totally recovered!” Isidro stabbed the closest monster as Serpico followed him into the fray.

Schierke held her staff out while chanting in the ancient tongue. Farnese’s puny blade and her piddling strength stood no match against one of these creatures. The trembling dagger pointed out the door, not for the sake of defense, but to steady Farnese’s mind. A crocodile crawled past Guts’ leg then climbed past chared corpses. The beast stood then walked to the door. Farnese backed into the room remembering that time the monster popped her ice barrier like a bubble. Her prayers to the psychopomps received no answer: the dagger sat unchanged in her grip. Where was the frost barrier or the skittering darkness when she called upon it?

A monstrous hand gripped the door frame as the hulking creature entered the cabin.

“YEEEE! Here, here one’s here,” squeeled Ivalera as she waved her arms. “What’re the men doing?!?! DO something, you! Turn it into a bag!” Farnese’s feet spread apart as she held the dagger with both hands. A blow to the throat was her only shot to kill it. If that didn’t work then she would be dead. The monster surveyed the room until its gaze fell upon the boy. The crocodile exited the cabin. Farnese’s knees gave out as she fell to the floor with a sigh. The dagger fell from her grip, clanging on the floor boards. The child met eyes with Farnese then buried his face into Casca.

“Huh,” said Farnese.

“What just happened,” asked Ivalera.

“Markto, Ategh, Geplah, Gedulah, le orahm,” said Schierke. The white fire pillars descended from the sky, engulfing the cabin in whiteness until the blinding light dissolved into the protective aura. The young witch’s calmness enraptured Farnese; magic’s power was nothing short of a miracle, and its caster just as great.

Schierke’s voice entered Farnese’s mind: Everyone. You are all all right? For now at least, this cabin is secure. But they are not like the trolls who have only astral bodies. Though they are warped, their bodies are of flesh. The spiritual sensitivity of their astral bodies wrapped in the membrane called matter is quite dulled. There is a limit to the efficacy of the bulwark against them. If they continue to advance on it, eventually…

That will take too long! These familiars do not possess the will power to act individually. There is sure to be a nearby spellcaster controlling the mob. If you defeat him…

The men fought within the white aura surrounded by a field of corpses. Schierke chanted with her eyes closed and moved her staff as though it were a divining rod. Flaming crocodiles walked towards the cabin. Patches of burnt away skin exposed muscle and bone. Blood seeped from joints as they gained on the entrance. Farnese’s breath heaved in and out. How could she stop three of these creatures when one was too big for her? The men slaughtered the never ending beasts yet she couldn’t protect herself or Casca.

“Hnnnnn… Hnnnnn…,” said Farnese not even managing the word hurry. Her vision swam. Her legs felt like lead. Her dagger weighed down her wrist like an anvil. Despite the crippling fear, despite the certainty of her death. She remained in the doorway. They would not pass her. Her mistress told her silver had magic properties that repelled spirits and she needed to believe. Faith would be her shield once again. If the talismanic properties of silver meant anything, then she would block their way. If she could not believe the words of her mistress then her hope in magic was lost before she ever tried. The three flaming crocodiles stopped at the porch stairs as though they could move forward no more. Her warding magic worked!

There behind some rocks on the shore shouted Schierke’s mind followed by an image. Serpico cleared the crocodile army in a single leap then landed on rocks. A wind cutter swirled from his blade. The crocodile’s eyes cleared as the animals returned to their bellies. The ones by the porch walked down the steps towards the shore. The tension holding Farnese’s body in place melted as the threat joined the march towards the ocean.

“The Familiars,” said Farnese.

“Okay, if we’re gonna beat it now’s the time,” said Isidro.

“Wait, not yet,” said Schierke as she meditated on her staff. Thick fog carrying an acrid death smell rolled off the crashing surf so dense Farnese confused it for the light barrier. Electricity from the fog tickled the hairs on her arm.A mound forming in the ocean grew larger as it rolled closer to the shore.

“Serpico, move away from there, NOW,” yelled Guts. Sylphs exploded from his robe as he leapt towards the cabin. His stride lasted five meters before he bounded off the ground again.

“What gives,” said Isidro, “are there fish walkin’ around this time?” The mound peeled open as a giant amalgamation rose from sea. Elephant like ears and trunk framed eyes that looked small and beady on its giant skull. Dagger like teeth protruded from a shark jaw. Fur covered the creature’s round, bulbous body. Stiff membranes extended off its limbs like hands made of fish fin.

“What is that,” exclaimed Serpico when he reached the cabin.

“I… I do not know but as with the familiars,” said Schierke, “it too is a life form produced by an ethereal body inhabiting some kind of animal.”

“Th-there’s some animal like THAT,” asked Isidro, “It’s bigger ‘n an ogre!”

“Are… are we safe,” asked Farnese.

“If it were just an ethereal body, perhaps,” said Schierke, “but my bulwark cannot stop an object that huge! If it storms us, the cabin and everything else will be flattened! We can’t run, it’s blocking our path off the beach!”

“Suits me, runnin’ ain’t my style,” said Guts. Serpico bounded off a crocodile’s head then jumped at the elephant with his feather duster ready to strike. The trunk let fly a geyser blast of water. The beam tossed Serpico like a rag doll back to the cabin. His flailing body smashed through the roof as he fell into the bed among a shower of wood fragments.

“Are you hurt,” asked Farnese wrapping him in her arms as she checked for damage. The smiling man tried pulling away.

“That was careless,” said Serpico, “thanks to the spirits, my life was spared.”

“The caster controlling it is at sea, too far away,” said Schierke. The thick black trunk appeared over the hole in the roof. Serpico scooped Farnese into his arms then followed the party out the door as the roof crashed into the building. Farnese ran asthe amalgamation knocked the front wall over as though it were a pile of blocks.

“T-talk about strength,” said Isidro. Guts readied the Dragon Slayer then stepped between the beast and them.

“Guts,” called Schierke, “You mustn’t! If you continue fighting…” Guts charged the rampaging beast then cleaved. The mammoth head reared as its eye dangled from the socket. Guts sidestepped it’s crashing trunk then sliced its hairy chest. The animal reared on its hind flipperstrying to stomp Guts as he rolled to safety. The massive sword bounced off the tree trunk legs and it trumpeted.

“W-wow,” exclaimed Isidro, “He’s not givin’ an inch with that huge thing! Looks like Guts’s back to his old self!” Guts panted so hard Farnese could hear him from the cliff side. He staggered forward clutching at his chest. His knees shook as he leaned forward to steady himself. The shark jaw opened like a bear trap then snapped towards the stunned man. “LOOK OUT!”

He jumped back as the jaws snapped on empty air. The black trunk connected with his breast plate like a cannon ball and the Black Swordsman flew into the cliff side.

“GUTS,” yelled Isidro. The monster walked towards them. “Geh! Here it comes!” Isidro pulled the salamander dagger then ran towards it. Serpico’s arms lifted him from under the arm pits. “Com’on we gotta help him!”

The Vandimion rapier left the sheath at Serpico’s side as he and Isidro stood before Farnese, Casca, Schierke and the boy. The monster walked through Schierke’s barrier as though it were not there. Farnese didn’t bother lifting her dagger, she could do nothing to help. The stunned men just watched as it limped towards them.

“AHHH,” screamed Guts. The jackal helmet folded over his head as the bandages holding the Dragon Slayer tore off his hand. Guts’ scream turned into a high-pitched, inhuman shriek of pain and rage as the armor blackened and grew spikes.

The jackal headed man jumped on the beast’s head then jammed the Dragon Slayer into its other eye. Guts jumped to avoid the swinging trunk then cut off the appendage in a motion so fast Farnese could only see a black blur. The Dragon Slayer rained down wild cuts in an explosion of blood and fur. The amalgamation howled in futility with no effort to stop its butchering. Each blow opened a new gushing red spring as blood covered Guts from head to toe.

“DAMNNNN! That’s strong,” exclaimed Isidro, “It’s inhuman!”

“But now his wounds will open again,” said Farnese. Schierke jammed her staff into the ground.

“I will draw him back,” said the young witch. The Dragon Slayer finally hacked through a leg. The beast tottered then fell with such force wind pelted their eyes with sand. It howled in pain and Guts leapt into its open mouth. For a brief moment there was silence on the battlefield after the monster’s jaws snapped shut. With one final leap, Guts sprang through the boulbous back in a geyser of viscera. The jackal-man leaned back and howled like a wolf at the moon. As she watched the victor gloat over the corpse, Farnese didn’t know which one was the monster.

Guts jumped from the body towards the closest crocodile. The sword cleaved the monster down the middle like he was unzipping it. The Dragon Slayer butchered an already dead crocodile as the frantic beasts laying on the beach took to the sea. The black blur struck down the fleeing animals and corpses alike.

“C-crazy,” said Isidro, “At this rate, he’s gonna kill every last one of ‘em! That’s one sick fightin’ style though. They’re not resistin’; he’s not hesitatin’… I feel kinda ill.” The senseless butchery scared Farnese. Guts had always been a fierce warrior capable of easily handing out death but he never did so more than he had to. This creature was not the Guts she knew. Her hand covered her mouth as the breath barely escaped the grinding tension churning her stomach. The jackal headed monster was someone else entirely. Schierke groaned then swayed. Farnese’s hands caught her shoulders to keep her standing.

“I hope I’m wrong,” said Serpico, “but according to legend those called berserkers inspired fear not only in their enemies but also among their allies. Not for their relentless fighting style alone but because whether friend or foe, they were said to slay everything around them.”

“Schierke, are you well,” asked Farnese. Schierke’s shoulders rolled as she moaned again.

The berserker stood in a field of dead crocodiles then turned towards the party by the cottage ruin. Guts took a labored step as though he was resisting the urge to walk towards them but still did.

“Uh, uh uh,” said Isidro, “Oh, you called it! Hey aren’t you done yet?!?” The berserker dragged the Dragon Slayer with one hand as he picked up speed. His second hand shifted to the blade. Serpico stepped between Farnese and Guts with his rapier shaking. He looked as though he was going to pass out. Farnese wanted to believe from his injury. Nothing could make Serpico so scared.

“Everyone get back,” shouted Serpico.

“Serpico,” yelled Farnese. Schierke’s panting turned frantic as Guts lifted the massive blade within striking distance. Farnese reached for Serpico, her hand brushing into Schierke’s hair. A vision of Guts emerging from a great blackness guided by a pair of white light arms filled her mind. The feeling shot through her like a bolt of lightning until she moved her hand. The intensity of that connection left a lingering tingle in her fingertips. The jackal-man cried out then fell on his knees clutching his head.

“What was that,” asked Isidro, “is he back to normal?” The helmet peeled off then folded onto his back. A deep braying cough spattered the ground with blood. “GUTS!” Serpico ran towards the man followed by Isidro. Schierke gasped then fell into Farnese’s awaiting arms.

“Schierke,” said Farnese as she eased the girl to the ground. Her eyes opened with a grogginess like awakening from a deep sleep. An armored fist punched the ground as Schierke sat up.

“SON OF A BITCH,” shouted Guts. The man stood on all fours then punched the ground again. Schierke pulled herself up with her staff.

“Being so set in your own ways,” said Schierke as she hobbled over to the prone man. “Will make you old before your time. Right?” The girl radiated a soft, sweet smile. Guts sat up on his knees then smirked.

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Guts. The smirk turned into a charming, impish smile. Guts looked content despite the blood leaking from his hairline in red streaks.

“Yeaaah right,” said Isidro patting Schierke’s hat. “I don’t know what that’s about but as long as we got her magic, you can get back to normal right? Good enough then!”

“Are you aware of how serous this is,” asked Schierke, “One wrong move and Guts’ life will be endangered!”

“How’s that different from any other time,” asked Isidro. “We might’ve been in a tight spot, but it was thanks to that armor that we weren’t smashed by that huge thing right? Badass killer moves and such can be risky, that’s why they’re so awesome!”

“I… I think so too,” said Farnese. The whole party turned to look at her. “We should be genuinely happy with what we’ve accomplished. We are all aware of the dangers. This is how we have survived thus far.” Guts limped over to the cabin and picked through the rubble. Isidro cut off a crocodile tail.

“Isidro, Puck help me,” said Serpico, “We’re looking for my equipment that went flying.”

“What? With all this good food,” said Isidro. Serpico picked the feather duster out of the sand by the shattered house then re-sheathed the sword.

“Forget the food, we’re leaving now,” said Guts.

“Before that, we must see to your reopened wounds,” said Schierke.

“Ooooo,” cooed Casca. The woman frantically looked around. “Aaa! AAAAA!” She waved her empty hands at Farnese.

“What’s up,” said Isidro as he cut off another tail.

“Casca,” asked Guts. Farnese watched her frantic hand gestures.

“Where’s the boy,” asked Farnese. Farnese and Guts walked along the beach shouting. Isidro turned over a crocodile. Serpico picked through the rubble of the house while Schierke closed her eyes to scan the OD. After a few minutes, the group returned to the ruined cabin.

“It’s no use, I see him nowhere,” said Farnese. “He was just here but a minute ago…”

“I should find him quickly by his OD, but for some reason I can’t find anything,” said Schierke.

“Same here,” said Isidro, “I even looked under the crocodiles.”

“Oooo,” moaned Casca looking up at the clouds illuminated by the full moon.

“It’s all right,” said Farnese as she wrapped her arm around her shoulders, “I’m sure he went home.” Serpico distributed everyone’s bags from the rubble pile as Casca watched the sky.

“It cannot be helped, anyway,” said Schierke, “Let’s get away from here. Nothing says we have seen the last of these.” The party walked past the amalgamation’s corpse as Farnese took Casca’s hand.

“Come Casca,” said Farnese. The woman groaned as her eyes turned from the sky. Farnese smiled and the woman’s concern melted away. This was the least Farnese could do to keep from crying. She swore to protect the child but didn’t keep him safe. His disappearance was another failure in a lifetime of failures. What was that boy? What was his connection to Guts and Casca? Why did she love him so? The boy was another miracle she didn’t understand and couldn’t explain.

“Guts,” said Schierke, “we need to do your medicine.”

“We don’t have time,” said Guts. The party walked down the beach watching the rolling tide glimmer in the moonlit ocean.

Serpico wrapped an arm around his ribs as he limped. Guts left small blood spots in the sand as they marched for hours without rest. The sun broke the eastern horizon by the time Vritannis came in to view. The massive city looked peaceful in the orange haze, like they were walking towards a dream.

“This is where I grew up,” said Farnese. Casca’s eyes followed Farnese’s finger towards the city. “It can be a bit scary because it’s so big, so make sure you stay with someone else all the time, Okay? And if you ever get scared just let me know and I’ll help you, Okay?”

“Woohoo, we made it,” said Isidro pumping his fist.

“Even Windham isn’t that big,” said Guts.

Foreboding gripped Farnese as they approached the city, like she was walking into a trap. Serpico squinted at her from behind his stoic facade then released a large, charming smile.

Chapter 13: Vritannis

The sun fully rose by the time they reached the rocky bank separating the beach from the grasslands outside the northern gate. Vritannis was the largest city on the continent but to Farnese it was always home. Like most homes, its grandiosity was familiar and its grandeur ordinary. As she read the wonder in Isidro and Schierke’s faces, she realized just how special the city actually was.

A sea of armies marched in the grasslands outside the walls. A smoke filled breeze carried the din of men eating breakfast together from camps that stretched as far as she could see. An endless line of carriages, soldiers and peasants marched down the highway entering the city.

“Woooooo! So many people,” exclaimed Isidro. “Wowwww… It’s an army! There’s a number of ‘em.” Serpico shaded his eyes as he looked over the fluttering banners.

“It’s actually a muster of armies from all the Holy See’s territories,” said Serpico, “The Great Knights of the Chuder Empire and the Kingdom of Balden. From the East, the Royal Knights of the Duchies of Morgar and Wallatoria. The army of the newly established Randel Commonwealth under the Paneria Alliance, the Army of Lana and mercenary groups of Faris, Nise and Vritannis and various others.”

“H-how did you know that,” asked the gobsmacked boy.

“Because Serpico was a Herald of Arms,” said Farnese. “He has every coat of arms of national and royal knight troupes memorized.” Schierke held her hat onto her head as she looked over the people marching in formation. This world was laid apparent to Farnese during her time with the Holy Iron Chain Knights but must be quite queer to the young witch who spent her whole life cloistered among nature.

“What’s wrong,” asked Guts. The witch’s puffy doe eyes looked up at the mountainous man.

“Nothing,” said Schierke, “It’s just so… barbaric.”

“Yeaaahhhhh,” shouted Isidro, “gets the blood goin’!!” The party headed down the dune grass towards the highway. “Hey! Which army is the strongest?” Serpico and Isidro talked on the state of the nations while Farnese concentrated on Schierke. The girl looked ill and dizzy as they joined the throng heading towards the entrance. The scent of cooked pork from a full pig roasting on a spit filled the vendor ally. Another sold fragrant herbs. Blacksmiths sweated profusely from forges as their hammers pounded metal. Barkers proclaimed the virtues of their wares. Every stall added to the mounting cacophony of sound and smells that left Schierke covering her mouth. By the time they reached the heart of the alley, the young girl swayed propped up by her staff.

“Are you all right,” asked Farnese. Her touch steadied the girl’s shoulders.

“The crowd’s bothering me,” said Schierke, “The overwhelming presence of human life energy... The OD feels like a can of coins shaking in my head.”

“That’s the problem with bumpkins,” said Isidro, “If you ain’t serious, they’ll mess with you.”

“But when there’s this many people swarmin,” said Puck. The elf pulled on a peasant man’s lip. The yokel drooled a little but didn’t notice the pest. Was Farnese like this the first time she met the elf? She had not seen him or even perceived his presence. To the magic folk, was Farnese in her ornate armor aboard her charger little more than that slack jawed peasant?

“Hark, brethren gathered for the Holy War,” said a man in a polished breast plate with a frilled white collar adorning a blue silk shirt. A similarly attired man wearing a plumed hat stood on a barrel behind the barker with his chest puffed out. “If you’ve confidence in your skills, come ride with us!! We are the Band of the Dawn Fang!! As you know, gentlemen, our deeds of arms include going unbeaten in the Randel War of Independence…” A man beat on a drum during pauses as the barker enumerated their achievements.

“Who’re those flashy guys,” asked Isidro. Heads turned to the Black Swordsman walking through the crowd. The giant man stood out even among warriors.

“He’s a recruitment barker,” said Guts stopping to watch the exited speech. “That’s how mercenary bands enlist troops. The guy on the stand’s the leader.”

“The leader does this himself,” asked Isidro.

“To choose a mercenary band, you look at the leader first,” said Guts. “Does he look dependable? Does he look wealthy? And most important is whether he gets on well with the soldiers. That one looks too high and mighty. Mercenaries aren’t patriots or champions of some great cause. It’s all about earning enough to eat. Strength is the rule for a mercenary band, but first you gotta see if the boss is on your side or the employer’s.”

“Indeed,” said Serpico, “to mercenaries, war is just business. It is usually the case that they are driven from their homes by war and are too destitute to subsist. They fight because they must. So it makes sense that a commander who values his men, even above victory, is more welcome than a great one who wins at the cost of their lives.”

“Your life’s on the line either way,” said Guts, “the real question’s whether you risk it for your comrades or be just another pawn.” Guts didn’t just talk of loyalty and duty. Even useless comrades were safe guarded as though they were priceless friends. The thought touched her; She was his priceless friend. Farnese squeezed Casca’s hand as Guts talked hoping that somehow the woman would pay attention to his words and understand the strength of his devotion.

“So they should be strong, with a charismatic leader everyone likes,” said Isidro. The boy flexed. “If you’re a man, you get ahead by your own skills!”

“Oh, I recall one with charisma,” said Serpico. “Sir Griffith, the mercenaries he led were the Band of the Hawk.” Griffith… The name Guts shouted at the council of demons in Theresia’s story. The Black Swordsman looked away with an intense but distant gaze, a poor attempt to hide his reaction. “In the hundred-year war between Midland and Chuder, he never lost to his Chuder opponents. He was the legendary mercenary leader who, after the Band of the Hawk became part of Midland’s regular army, brought about the surrender of the impregnable strong-hold of Doldrey, defeated the Holy Purple Rhino Knights said to be the mightiest in Chuder’s army, and finally led to the conclusion of the war.”

“Yeahhhh,” shouted Isidro thrusting his finger at Serpico as though it were a rapier, “I know that one!! Every man does!! Any rate, it’s no exaggeration to say it was thanks to hearin’ that that I decided to go down this road. Yeah that Griffith dude was incredible but the Band of the Hawk’s Raiders captain, that guy was wicked strong!” The Band of the Hawk… that mercenary band that ruined every ball for a year. Farnese heard of the raider captain. He was said to be a man of imposing size capable of cleaving whole armies himself. Second only to Sir Griffith. Peer to the Band of the Hawk’s legendary woman general, his alleged lover… Could Guts be that legendary warrior, the hundred man killer?Farnese’s gasp caught the corner of Gut’s eye.

“They say he took down those primo Rhino guys single handed,” said Isidro.

“But ironically it can also be said that the discord between Sir Griffith and the King was the cause of the fate of Midland today,” said Serpico.

“Oh hey,” said Isidro. “Didn’t you used to be a mercenary Guts? What group were you with?”

“It was a long time ago, I’ve forgotten,” said Guts. Casca looked around the crowd bored.

“Rumor has it the Hawks were later destroyed by the King’s scheming,” said Serpico, “but some also say that they remain in Midland and are fighting the Kushan. I do not know the real truth.”

Serpico, Isidro, and Guts continued through the portcullis into town. Farnese followed the men with Casca. Guards watching the crowd file though intercepted the dawdling Schierke.

“Hold it, girl,” said a guard. “What kind of outfit is that?”

“Teacher,” called Farnese.

“This is the Holy See’s inner citadel,” said the guard, “Right now it’s the same as holy ground. We won’t let you enter in such an outrageous getup!”

Serpico pushed through the gawking crowd towards the stunned girl.

“The outfit is for performances, good official,” said Serpico. The guard looked at Serpico who wore a charming smile.

“A performance,” asked the guard, “It’s not allowed even for performance.”

Schierke’s staff pointed towards the men as she spoke the ancient tongue. The guards tensed then froze while staring into space. Schierke walked past the motionless men.

“What’s wrong, they’re as stiff as boards,” said a watching peasant.

“Let us proceed,” said Schierke.

“I-I hear ya, but wasn’t that a bad idea,” said Isidro.

“It is alright,” said Schierke, “I can manipulate the OD of people to divert their attention.” Schierke held her staff out then mumbled. The guards looked left at the same time.

“How did she do that,” said a peasant. “Is she really…” Schierke enchanted the peasants watching her. The people surrounding her stared ahead with blank expressions. Schierke didn’t understand the people of the Holy City. Vritannis would not be so understanding and curious as the country folk she met so far. They would give her to the Holy See to be burned...

“C’mere,” yelled Isidro pulling on her sleeve.

“What is it,” asked Schierke.

“We can’t have you dressed like that,” said Isidro,”We gotta buy you some normal clothes somewhere.”

“This is normal for me,” said Schierke. The girl leered at Isidro.

“You’ll be burned at the stake,” said the boy.

“I won’t tread so clumsily,” barked Schierke, “I’m not you!”

“Why’re you so stubborn,” said Isidro. The boy knocked off her hat. The garment floated under the wheel of a passing carriage.

“Ahhh,” squeaked Schierke. “My… my hat!” The girl knelt in the mud, picked up the hat then clutched it to her chest. “Why… why…You.. You’re so cruel.”

“Wh-what,” stammered Isidro, “Over a worn out hat? You should listen to advice.” The teary eyed girl leered at Isidro then ran into the city before disappearing into the crowd.

“Idiot,” shouted Isidro, “If you wander ‘round the city like that…” He trailed off as she left his sight.

“Hey Droppy, you suck,” said Ivalera taking Farnese’s angry mistress pose as she talked. “That hat and her clothes were handmade by Flora!! Everything else burned in the Fire! They’re mementos, y’hear!” The elf flew into his face then shoved a finger between his eyes. “Makin’ a girl cry… You are a monkey! Schierke wait!” The elf flew over the crowd into the city.

“Isidro,” said Serpico. The boy looked down at the dirt then kicked a rock. Was he worried about her? They got along like oil and water yet did he care for her?

“We’ll go look for lodging,” said Guts. “We’ve got thought transference, and I don’t think anyone here could do anything to a genuine witch but we can’t have dinner getting cold. Go bring her back.” The boy nodded then ran into the city. Guts, Farnese, Serpico and Casca entered the massive stone, wood and glass maze that was Vritannis.

“How much money do we have left,” asked Farnese.

“About fifty lira,” said Serpico.

“Is that enough to purchase passage to Skellig,” said Farnese.

“I don’t know how much that will be, M’lady,” said Serpico. The massive cobblestone boulevard bustled with so many people Farnese had trouble hearing Serpico. Hosting the armies of several nations congested the broad streets like she had never seen before. Farnese tugged on Serpico’s shirt then pointed out a two story building hanging a sign that simply read ‘Inn.’ They pushed through the masses that parted for Guts as though a force field pushed everyone out of his way. Uneasy eyes looked up at the black metal encased giant with a mix of spectacle and fear. Even the apathetic city that made Farnese feel invisible couldn’t help but notice the Black Swordsman who obliviously walked through the parting crowd like a fish swims through water.

The front door opened into a lobby just as busy as the main boulevard. Men chatted on arm chairs amid a cloud of pipe smoke. A nobleman wearing boots unused to hard work leaned on the hearth’s mantle as he chatted with a rigid young woman weighted down by a silk gown like Farnese used to wear as a child.

“A room to rent,” shouted Serpico. Casca’s arm wrapped around Farnese’s waist as the overwhelmed woman looked around the bustling inn.

“Eh,” asked the burly man at the front desk cupping his ear.

“Do you have a room to let,” said Serpico. The man looked at him with a confusion unfitting his inquiry, as though he were trying to hire a butcher to sew a dress instead of renting a room from a hotelier.

“We need a room,” boomed Guts. The crowd quieted as it took notice of the armor clad giant.

“Ain’t no rooms here,” said the man, “ain’t no rooms anywhere. Ain’t you seen the people? ‘fraid we won’t have nothing ‘til the Kushan business’s settled.” Guts stormed out of the inn. Farnese and Serpico rode the wake of the parting crowd into the street.

“This can’t be the only inn in the city,” said Guts. Another inn off the main boulevard was also filled as was the one after that and the one after that. The three walked down a narrow alley flanked by stone buildings towards a stone archway capping the exit onto another street.

“Alas, every inn must be full,” said Serpico. Guts looked towards the ocean.

“Guts,” asked Farnese. Casca walked into her back when she stopped to address the alert man.

“Isidro needs me,” said Guts. The Black Swordsman tossed his travel sack to Serpico then ran out of the alley. The stunned pair watched where he left for a second then met eyes as if to say they expected nothing less. Casca picked a small white flower veined with purple from a flower box outside a brick row house. Her hands held it out to Farnese.

“That’s Candy Tuft, my darling,” said Farnese closing Casca’s fingers over the flower, “but we mustn’t pick flowers from people’s gardens.” The woman tore off the petals then threw them like confetti. Farnese hoped it wouldn’t come to this but in times of desperation they always had outs in a city like Vritannis, it was their home after all.

“Could we stay at your home,” asked Farnese. The dilapidated buildings grew worse as they walked. The small side streets were not nearly as crowded as the main boulevard and she was glad for it for Farnese never felt more isolated and alone then when she was trapped in a crowd.

“That would be inadvisable,” said Serpico, “Vandimion servants work at my home. We would be found out immediately.”

“Do you have money,” asked Farnese.

“Aye, M’lady,” said Serpico, “but if it comes to that, it would be best for me to get it alone. I could get in and out unnoticed. We have one final option, M’lady that I have been avoiding thus far. It’s in a rougher part of town.”

“We have Guts with us and a witch, I do not believe any part of town could be rougher than them,” said Farnese.

“But,” said Serpico before looking up the street behind his stoic wall, “its in the shadow of the Vandimion mansion.” Panic surged at the source of so much pain. Surely someone from the endless throng of servants coming and going must be able to recognize her. Maybe if they don’t expect her so close, she can avoid detection.

“Alright, let’s go,” said Farnese. Serpico guided them to the main boulevard that ran through the commerce district. Farnese lifted her hood then gripped Casca’s hand tightly. They walked along the massive wall. The thronging crowd chattered excitedly about the world famous Vandimions, their wealth, and the missing daughter presumed to be lost at Albion. The wall disappeared to the open cast iron gate. Guards flanked the cobblestone driveway as a carriage clicked towards the cul-de-sac. The massive three story structure loomed over the rest of the city like a giant among ants. A guard made eye contact so she hurried past the entrance dragging Casca. They entered the square where Serpico fought the boys by the pontiff’s statue then headed towards the alley where Serpico’s mother lived before entering the pub by the cobbler shop.

Merrymaking filled the pub. A young girl took an arm full of mugs into the crowd. The dining room smelt of shepherd pie and spilt beer. A clean cut man with thick glasses who Farnese would have thought a man of learning had it not been for his muscular physique filled mugs from a barrel on the counter top. Serpico approached the counter with his hand resting on his rapier’s hilt. A drunk man gave Farnese a toothless, rotten grin and she turned away.

“Hello Sir,” said Serpico. The bartender turned then stood up straight.

“It’s you, boy,” said the Barkeeper, “I ‘eard you went proper. Been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” said Serpico followed by a smile. The muscular man frowned long enough for Serpico to turn nervous before the innkeeper lunged over the counter to hug him. Serpico broke into his real smirk.

“Why you ‘ere,” asked the smiling Barkeep.

“We need a room,” said Serpico. The man rubbed his naked chin.

“Rooms are ‘arder ta find then a mermaids arsehole,” said the man. A fat man in dingy clothing watching Farnese and Casca blew them a kiss. Her hand clutched Serpico’s shirt. “Been too busy to clean out the old store room but reckon for the right price I might find the time.”

“How much,” asked Serpico. The disgusting man reached for the bottom of Casca’s robe. Farnese pulled her away and the toothless man chuckled.

“Ten gold,” said the man. A skinny man poxed with acne scars joined the growing crowd watching the women.

“What,” exclaimed Serpico, “That’s robbery! How could…”

“We’ll take it,” blurted out Farnese.

“But M’lady he’s just negotiating,” said Serpico.

“I don’t care, we’ll take it,” said Farnese. Serpico handed a gold deca-libre to the man. He bit the corner then put the heavy coin in his pocket.

“Always nice ta see an old friend,” said the man. “’ILDE!” A middle aged woman wearing a flour covered apron entered the bar from behind the counter. “Take em to the room.”

“I thought you had to empty it,” said Serpico. The man laughed then went back to filling mugs.

“Follow me, dearies,” said the woman. They ascended a staircase to a second floor dining hall then continued up another flight to a thin hallway with two doors. “I’m sorry, Serpico dear, about ‘arry. Him and money, you know.” The woman removed a key then opened the room. A potato bag laid in the center of the otherwise clean and ready room. Hilde threw the bag over her shoulder, handed Serpico the key then left. A table with four chairs sat in the room center. Bunk beds lined two walls with a small table and chairs by a window overlooking the alley connecting them to the square.

“How did you know of this place,” said Farnese.

“I ran errands for the owner quite frequently as a child,” said Serpico as he dropped his bag. “He was a cheapskate then too. I need to retrieve my savings. I’ll be back soon. You’re quite safe here.” Serpico pulled the sylph hood over his head then disappeared into the hallway.

The mattress poofed as Casca fell onto the bed. Farnese took the chair by the window watching for Serpico. The hooded figure walked down the alley towards the commerce boulevard. The contents of Farnese’s backpack tumbled onto the hardwood floor.

“No, Casca,” said Farnese. The woman picked through the bag’s belongings until Farnese pulled her off the floor then grabbed a hairbrush. Casca flailed as Farnese pulled her onto a chair then ran the brush through her knotted hair. The first few strokes were a battle against the much stronger woman but once her hair evened out and the knots disappeared, Casca gave in to the brushing with little more than a gentle cooing.

Farnese laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. Her fingers clamped on the hair tied to her finger then she closed her eyes. A one legged pirate crossed words with a broad man wearing a mustached helmet.

A knock broke Farnese from the vision. She jumped to her feet fingering the silver dagger’s handle while thinking of the best place to position herself to ambush any would be attackers. While wrapped in her thoughts of self defense, Casca pulled open the door.

“No, wait,” shouted Farnese. The door swung open to reveal Hilde holding a basket overflowing with apples. The woman entered then placed the food on the table.

“I jus’ found out how much ‘arry charged you,” said Hilde, “and I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Farnese, “I’m afraid we wouldn’t have had any other place to stay.”

“I meant to ask,” said Hilde, “are you a noble?” Farnese felt her jaw hanging agape then shut it.

“Well you see,” said Farnese fishing for a lie but nothing came. How could she tell her she was the missing Vandimion child? A whole army would come to retrieve her before the night was over. “I’m traveling in secret, with my companions and…”

“No, never mind,” said Hilde, “A barkeep’s wife should know not ta ask questions of someone payin’ like you do. The name’s Hilde, if you need anythin’ just ask.”

“Well,” said Farnese, “We could use some girl’s clothing. She’s about twelve but small for her age.”

“Bring ‘er round,” said Hilde, “she might fit in me daughter’s old clothes. You’ve seen the comely lass servin’ drinks? ‘ats ‘er.”

“Thank you,” said Farnese. The woman bowed then exited. Farnese sat across from Casca then picked up an apple. Casca already de-cored one and had another in her hands. She clutched the apple like a squirrel holding a nut then turned her back as though to hide it.

Schierke’s voice whispered in her mind: Where are you? Farnese sent visions of the streets and landmarks that the party could use to reach the hotel. We will be there soon.

Cores piled up on the table as Farnese tried to visualize the apple again. The fruit was not just a dead thing in her hand but brimmed with life energy. She needed to understand the essence of that energy, not just view the physical form. Farnese held Casca’s hand then closed her eyes again. Calming energy pulsed from Casca’s touch. Farnese imagined the same energy swelling from the fruit. A thin jumble of red dots floated in the air. The red mist pulsed with energy like goose pimples in her hand. The strange sensation startled her enough that she dropped the apple on the floor.

“Was that the essence of the apple,” asked Farnese. Casca’s hand withdrew from her grip then picked up the apple. Farnese smelled the exposed flesh of a core. Her fingertips rubbed the smooth skin as she concentrated on the smell. A light red mist came again, this time a little fuller than before. The essence vibrated in her hand like the window frame of her moving carriage. OD carried so much power. How could she ever hope to master it when merely peeking at it shocked her?

The apartment door squealed open. Farnese’s hand grabbed her dagger as if by reflex but then when slack as Isidro walked through the door. Bruises swelled his face in red lumps. Farnese jumped from her seat then rushed to the boy who put up his hands defensively.

“Woah there killer,” said the boy. His lip curled into a swollen half smile as Farnese guided his chin around to examine the damage.

“You poor thing, what happened” said Farnese. Schierke walked in behind him followed by Guts who had to dip under the door frame.

“Where’s Serpico,” asked Guts.

“He had to run an errand,” said Farnese.

“Let’s go eat, I’m starvin’,” said Guts. The tall man ducked back out of the room. Isidro’s face pulled from her grip then he disappeared as well.

“Schierke,” said Farnese, “The owner’s wife was kind enough to give us some clothing for you.”

“Go,” said Guts, “I’ll get us a table.” Farnese took Schierke’s hand and walked her to the front bar where the owner filled mugs. The loud crowd turned almost manic in its desire to make noise.

“What can I do for ya,” asked Harry.

“May we speak with Hilde,” asked Farnese. The Barkeeper shouted his wife’s name and she appeared wiping her hands on her apron.

“Oh my word,” said Hilde, “you must be the girl. How precious you are!” Schierke hid behind Farnese as though this plain woman were a dragon. Hilde bounded up the stairs followed by Farnese holding Schierke’s hand.

“Don’t worry,” said Farnese, “We will keep your robes safe. We know they are special to you.” The young witch smiled. The three entered the door opposite their room into the inn keeper’s apartment.

“Hope you don’t mind the hurry, dearie, it’s our busy time,” said Hilde. Clothes flew out of a large wardrobe as the woman dug out a brown frock with a long white skirt. She held the garment against Schierke’s body. “Perfect.” Schierke examined the stitching then fiddled with the button on the collar. Hilde tossed Schierke’s hat aside. Farnese went to help but Schierke clutched her hand so hard she couldn’t use it. The girl’s sad eyes looked on the verge of tears so Farnese just held her until the robe came off.

Farnese slid the frock over Schierke’s head.

“Mistress,” said Farnese and she buttoned the collar. A white head covering tied under the girl’s chin. Leather shoes covered her feet. Ivalera flew before Schierke’s face then down to her shoes.

“Why,” said Ivalera, “just why.”

“How darling,” said Hilde, “So much better than your witch costume!” Schierke picked up the robe, hat, and sandals then clutched them to her chest. They stopped to drop her clothes off at their room then headed downstairs. Farnese held her hand while herother held up the dress as she slowly descended to the dining room.

Guts, Isidro, Casca and Serpico sat at a food covered table just off the landing. Guts and Isidro jammed handfuls into their faces as Serpico sipped from a mug and Casca looked around the busy pub. The man who tried lifting Casca’s robe laid at the base of the table unconscious. The parties attention turned as they approached.

“Tadahhh,” said Ivalera with a flourish. Schierke blushed then looked down.

“Wowwww,” said Serpico. A small smile cracked Guts’ lips. Isidro’s bruised face gave away little but the speed by which he looked away when Farnese made eye contact told her all she needed to know about his thoughts.

“The inn’s proprietress was kind enough to let us have some of her daughter’s old clothes,” said Farnese.

“It is somewhat constrictive and difficult to move in, and I feel nervous without my wand,” said Schierke looking at her hand, “It feels awkward…”

“But oh so lovely,” said Ivalera. Farnese walked Schierke to the table where Serpico moved over to give her room. The rigid girl managed to sit with some guidance as an angry sigh left her lips.

“It is to be endured while in this city,” said Farnese.

“It suits you quite well,” said Serpico. The girl looked towards Isidro then blushed. Farnese’s hands rested on Schierke’s shoulders. Was she perhaps wrong about who Schierke liked? “You look like any other city girl, at least.”

“Weeelllll,” said Isidro as he sipped from a mug, “It’s a nice disguise. No one’s gonna guess that what’s insides a scaaary witch who levels villages.” Schierke stared daggers at Isidro. Maybe not.

“Wh-what,” asked Isidro before turning away.

“Heeeeyyy,” said a drunk man with a plumed hat shading an unkempt beard and sad eyes. Three ragged old men staggered towards the table. Their clothing said ‘mercenary captains’, all be it not very successful ones. Their arms supported each other against their drunken stupor

“Hey Good Lookin,” said a drunk leaning right into Farnese’s face as though he were expecting a kiss. She backed away but her hands anchored on Schierke’s shoulders kept her from going too far. “What have we here? Three girls this corner but ones a kid.” The drunk man with no teeth put his hand on Casca’s shoulder. Casca looked at him then cooed.

“So want to come have a drink,” said the drunk as he pushed his mug towards Farnese.

“I must decline,” said Farnese. The man pushed his mug harder as beer splashed onto Schierke. The girl shrieked, stood then looked at her soiled clothing.

“Ahhhh,” said Schierke. Farnese rested her hand on her dagger hilt. Isidro jumped from his seat clutching a turkey drumstick.

“HEY DRUNK ASS,” yelled the boy shaking the meat like a sword.

“What boy,” said the drunk. His face wrinkled into a serious glower. “You think you should be here? A kid in a place like this…” Guts’ unarmored hand wrapped in white bandages connected with the drunk’s face. The man flew backwards into another table, knocking it to the ground. Four soldiers stood as their dinner and drinks spilled.

“What the hell,” said the toothless man. Guts stood and the men shook like beaten dogs as he towered over them. The four soldiers from the damaged table took one look at Guts then turned their attention on the rogue laying on their dinner.

“That was payback for stainin’ our girl’s nicest clothes,” said Guts. The way Guts said ‘our girl’s’ as though he and Farnese had a child gave her the shivers. The soldiers threw the drunk off their table. The drunk’s friends rushed to defend him by shouting obscenities. Soon the parties where throwing dishes, chairs and fists at each other. The other patrons joined into the fray as the pub erupted into an all out brawl. The strange mustached knight from Schierke’s vision crawled around the floor picking up food. One of the drunks crawled towards Schierke with his hand reaching for her dress.

“Eheheeh, wimminnnn,” said the man. A vase smashed into his head as Schierke panted wildly then dropped the broken handle.

“Not bad at all,” said Guts. Schierke unleashed a full face smile that caused Guts to smirk.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A shirtless Guts slept on a bottom bunk. Serpico slipped on his sylph robe while Isidro tied on his cloak. Schierke looked out the window as Farnese rummaged through her bag.

“I’m coming too, wait for me,” said Farnese.

“But M’lady,” said Serpico, “Pirates and kidnappers who would kill for the chance to abduct a pretty young woman roam the docks. It’s not safe for you there and certainly not for Casca.”

“I can take care of myself and Casca,” said Farnese, “besides, I should be there in case we need to throw around the Vandimion name!”

“But you renounced your name, M’lady,” said Serpico, “It would be improper!”

“We could do some magic training,” said Schierke. Farnese sighed then slipped into the chair across from the young witch still wearing peasant clothing emitting the faint smell of beer.

“Fine,” said Farnese. She was not going to fight everyone. Besides, the sooner she learned magic, the sooner she would be able to help the party with more than babysitting. Farnese grabbed an apple from the dwindling bowl. The door shut behind Serpico and Isidro.

“Close your eyes,” said Schierke. An overwhelming body odor stench blocked her concentration. Casca rummaged through the apple bowl.

“First, we need to bathe her,” said Farnese. She drew a curtain shut over Gut’s bed as Schierke moved the wood tub into place. The bath slowly filled with warm water as Farnese carried buckets up from the kitchen. Her thighs and arms burned but eventually she had enough. Casca’s stained robe was so stiff Farnese thought it would stand on its own. “Bath time, precious.” Casca’s foot slowly entered the water then quickly exited. Farnese crossed her arms. “Come now, it’s not that hot!” The woman lowered into the water as Farnese pulled up her sleeves. The bar of soap lathered a rag before she dropped it into the tub. The bobbing soap caught Casca’s attention as she tried to push it to the bottom only for it to float again.

“What did you think of the city,” asked Farnese, “it’s quite something isn’t it. I never knew how big it was until I left. Even then I thought, it’s not so big, the rest of the world must just be small. I should take you to some of my favorite places. We can get you some new shoes. Would you like that?”

“May I join you,” asked Schierke. The witch knelt by the tub.

“Of course, mistress,” said Farnese. Schierke’s hands cupped water than dumped it on Casca’s head. Water flew everywhere as the woman shook her hair then trumpeted the water off her lips. “Now, now, no need to make a mess.”

“Why do you talk to her like this,” asked Schierke, “like sometimes she is a child and some times a friend?”

“Because to me… she sort of is like both,” said Farnese. “I wish she would consider me a friend anyway…” Farnese laid Casca down gently by the shoulders then massaged soap into her hair. “I’ve always longed for a girlfriend and Casca is the closest thing I’ve ever had. I hope the real Casca is in there somewhere hearing me and she appreciates being treated like a person.”

“Your… our group is a strange one,” said Schierke. “I have trouble wrapping my head around you sometimes. What is Serpico to you?”

“We have a long, complicated past,” said Farnese, “He was my servant, he is my friend. I’ve struggled with a deep love for him that was never reciprocated.”

“That is strange,” said Schierke, “I thought you were brother and sister?” Farnese laughed.

“No, we are not related,” said Farnese, “although he says he sees me as a sister so I can understand the confusion.”

“Yet, you like Guts,” said Schierke. Farnese stopped washing Casca’s hair to think a minute.

“Nothing is ever so clean in matters of the heart,” said Farnese. “My feelings for Guts are a fleeting, fickle thing constantly butting heads with my understanding that he loves Casca… profoundly, in a way I may never compete with. What about you, do you like anyone?”

“Well,” said Schierke turning a shade of red, “I know that I shouldn’t, that I am much too young for such things but…”

“I can hear you,” moaned Guts turning over in the bed. Farnese covered her face as it was now her turn to blush. What had he heard? They removed Casca from the bath then toweled her off and dressed her.

Now that Casca was taken care of, they sat at the table once more. Schierke put an apple between them.

“Look closely please, so as to burn the image into your mind,” said Schierke gesturing towards the fruit. Farnese stared not allowing her eyes to blink until the tears welled and a painful dryness came. “Slowly close your eyes.” Farnese let her eye lids drop shut. A pulsing yellow swirled around the impression of the apple. “Now imagine it. The image of the apple you just saw… Shape, Color as much detail as you can.” The red mist cloud swirled around the vague yellow energy. An image started coming together until it broke apart into swirling color particles again.

“It is no use,” said Farnese, “the image is blurred and will not take firm shape.”

“That is how it is at first,” said Schierke. “This is the first step towards becoming a magic user.” Schierke held out the apple. “It is basic practice for tangibly imagining phenomenon within your mind.”

“Tangibly… imagining,” repeated Farnese.

“Magic is not accomplished merely by reciting a spell and drawing symbols,” said Schierke, “it is the chaining of images in conjunction with those things that first yields efficacy. The essence of magic is the world of thought. It is practiced in the astral world. You have already felt a portion of that Farnese.”

“The trolls and the ogre and that light, yes,” asked Farnese.

“That four hued light is the manifestation of power,” said Schierke, “from me personally proceeding into the astral world, offering supplication and receiving assistance from the beings known as the four cardinal Kings. The astral world is comprised of wills and powers, memories and portents in various domains. To accomplish things in the midst of that, more than anything it is necessary to make your mind, your ethereal body, adhere firmly as a projection of your physical body, so as not to lose yourself. We magic users call that unwavering stable projection a body of light, a luminous body.”

“Luminous body,” asked Farnese taking the apple from the outstretched hand. Why was learning magic so impossibly complicated?

“That apple is your first step in obtaining your luminous body, Farnese,” said Schierke, “Persistent practice is sure to bear fruit. Please do your best.” Farnese owed Schierke her best. That moment of weakness where she indulged in negative thoughts would get her nowhere. She must trust in her mistress and give her full effort for…

Casca pulled the apple from Farnese’s hands then bit it.

“My luminous body,” exclaimed Farnese.

Farnese lost herself in concentration until feet pounded up the stairs then Serpico and Isidro walked into the room.

“Ahhh man, forget it,” said Isidro, “not a single bite. That was sure a vain effort.

“Welcome back,” said Farnese, “how did things go?”

“They went no where,” said Isidro.

“We tried every maritime trading firm and even a private ship captain in the city,” said Serpico, “but every ship has been commandeered as a warship or has accepted military related commissions. They curtly… well all of them turned us away without negotiation.”

“We walked our legs off all day in that crowd,” moaned Isidro.

“We over estimated our prospects,” said Guts, “I assumed something’d work out so long as we reached a port but it looks like this is different from how our journey’s been left to chance so far.” Farnese looked down at her bag on the floor. They were really out of options. She hoped against hope that everything would work itself out somehow.

“Guess now we’ll just have to plunder some ship,” said Isidro rubbing his chin. Her chair’s legs scratched the floor catching the group’s attention.

“Ummm,” said Farnese, “would you mind leaving this to me?” Her head dragged her chin down to her chest as she couldn’t make eye contact.

“What Farny, you got some idea,” asked Isidro.

“Eh,” said Serpico, “Lady Farnese, you cannot mean...”

“I may be gone for a while,” said Farnese strapping her rapier to her belt. She bounded for the door not wanting to wait for a response. Her feet tapped down the stairs as Serpico entered the hallway. The busy pub patrons took no note of her as she walked through the dining hall then exited to the alley before heading to the main square. The Vandimion mansion looked over the wall. Her old home. The place of so much misery and despair but now her only hope. Just looking at it filled her with emptiness. A pair of hands rested on her shoulders and she felt comfort despite the emptiness. A stoic Serpico looked into her eyes then she turned back to the mansion.

Chapter 14: Chattel

Landscapers trimmed the boxwood bushes and cleaned the home’s sparkling white marble walls as the raisin-like smell of fresh mulch wafted into the street. Soldiers milling around the mansion noticed the woman standing outside the open gate. Whether from the ravages of time on her memory or the overwhelming number of people working at the compound, she didn’t recognize any of them. Four years seemed like an eternity. Would anyone there recognize her? She changed so much in that time.

Her next step would take her back into a world she thought she left behind. Her trembling hand steadied on the rapier hilt while she fingered the dagger with the other. After a last long, deep breath she took that first step. Entering the compound felt like falling and once she passed the walls her breath exploded in a full body tension like smashing into ground.

“M’lady,” said Serpico putting his hand on her shoulder, “It’s not too late to go back.” Her breath returned at his calming touch. Once her pounding tension melted away, she continued towards the mansion. The landscapers watched her walk up the driveway with disinterest. More statues than she remembered dotted the cul-de-sac and lined the roof. A woman wearing robes holding laurel and an apple stood over the balcony from which she watched the carriages during her presentation. The smooth, beautiful face with featureless eyes vaguely resembled her mother. Young maidens holding stone fruit planters danced around the driveway. The clean white facade showed no scars from the fire. The idea that some things could heal in this place comforted her. A guard held out a hand as they approached.

“State your business,” said the gruff man. A green clover sigil adorned the top right of a shiny silver breast plate. Puffy, frilly sleeves stuck out of the arm holes. Brown trousers ran down to heavy boots with large silver buckles. The pointed steel helmet had an open face so she could look into his eyes. He seemed more suited to protecting a ball than guarding a nation at war.

“Summon Ms Ricci or Sir Carideo, I wish to speak with them,” said Lady Farnese. She slipped into her angry mistress pose as easily as a bird flies.

“Ms Ricci works in the estates now and Sir Carideo retired,” said the guard.

“Bring me the head valet then,” said Farnese.

“He is busy attending to the guests, please state your business,” said the guard.

“I wish to speak to Lord Vandimion,” said Farnese.

“Lord Vandimion does not entertain guests without an appointment,” said the guard.

“For once my father will see me,” fumed Farnese. The guards exchanged a look. “My name is Farnese de Vandimion, daughter of Federico Vandimion duke of Vritannis and…”

“Enough,” said the guard, “not a week goes by someone doesn’t come by claiming to be the missing princess…”

“Ugggg,” exclaimed Farnese, “I tire of this conversation. Get me someone of importance!”

“Wait here,” said the guard. The man walked up the stairs then disappeared into the mansion’s front door.

“Was that wise,” said Serpico, “to just blurt it out.”

“They don’t believe me anyway,” huffed Farnese. The gaurd reappeared with a maid. The woman held up her black frock’s bottom while walking down the stairs.

“My name’s Vanessa, head maid for the Vandimion estate. May I help you,” asked the maid. Farnese undid her belt then slid off her rapier before handing it to the woman.

“My name is Farnese and I wish to speak to my father, please show him this as proof of my claim,” said Farnese. The woman fingered the clover sigil then looked to the guards.

“Follow me,” said Vanessa before ascending the stairs then entering the foyer. The crystal chandelier threw sunshine drops all over the grand staircases. “Please wait here.” The maid walked down the hallway towards her father’s study. The clean white walls showed no signs of water or smoke. The paintings she assumed destroyed remained on the walls. Farnese paced the hall towards the ballroom entrance admiring the mansion interior which showed no signs of damage. A creeping shame dragged on her as she thought of the attempt to kill herself in the thrall of a hopeless love. How naive could one girl be? There was always hope, sometimes it took root in strange places but it was there all the same.

Footsteps echoed down the cavernous walls. Her father stared as he clutched her rapier. Farnese’s hands rested by her sides as her head bowed. She felt small all of a sudden. The tall man walked past Serpico then towered over the disappointment. Wrinkles creased his face more than she remembered.

“F… Fa…,” stammered Farnese.

“Why have you come here,” said Lord Vandimion. Her power of speech failed her entirely as her hands desperately tried to grasp something but only found each other. She looked up at him and the man raised his nose as though smelling something putrid.

“I heard about the Holy Iron Chain Knights,” said Lord Vandimion, “that they were destroyed by a Kushan invasion while guarding Albion. It would seem, you worthless girl, that you are a failure even at martyring yourself. I won’t say that was your indiscretion but figurehead or not you were in charge of a band of knights. For you alone to survive shamelessly and further, go into hiding… You will of course appear before the Holy City’s Court Supreme to receive judgment. It would seem that no matter where you go, the star under which you were born will see to it that you sully the honor of our Vandimion Name. Until I say otherwise you’re to abide quietly in this mansion.”

“Y-yes,” stammered Farnese. Her chin hung low on her chest. Lord Vandimion turned down the hallway. Her strength completely failed. She wanted little more than to run up to her room and curl under her blankets and hug her dear rabbit doll. But it was gone as was every other thing she clutched for comfort.

“Lady Farnese,” called Serpico. His voice broke her from the negative thoughts.

“F-FATHER,” she yelled. The man continued without acknowledging her.

“S-ship,” she said so quietly Serpico couldn’t hear, “I… Friends… A ship…” The man stopped for a brief moment to look over his shoulder then continued. Vanessa approached Farnese then bowed her head.

“M’lady,” said the maid, “we need to bathe and dress you properly.” She dragged Farnese down the hallway. Serpico talked to her brother, Magnifico, by the grand staircase but Farnese couldn’t make out their words as she traveled towards the bathroom.

A stone woman poured steaming water from a vase into a small pool overflowing into a large one. Three young women greeted her at the door. They chattered and, before she knew it, her clothing laid in a pile on the floor. The girls seemed particularly impressed with her silver chain-mail shirt and dagger.

“How exciting, M’lady,” said a young woman with sandy blond hair and dimples. “We’ve heard so much about you!” The head maid scooped up her clothes as the blond girl brought her into the warm water. A woman massaged lavender soap into her scalp while another cleaned her finger nails with a pick. The third scrubbed her body with a cotton cloth. “You’ve been all over the continent! What was your favorite place?”

“Oh,” said Farnese. Her constant state of tension melted away in the relaxing waters. The girl continued asking questions, talking about knights and battles and war with heretics but Farnese was in no mood to humor the conversation so she just talked on her own. She would trade every servant in this room for five more minutes fighting with Casca over cleaning behind her ears. The way she whimpered like a puppy when she got soap in her eyes. How Farnese always seemed to win their fights after much struggling unless Casca grew serious then it would be over in an instant. How peaceful were those moments of chaos and how chaotic was this peace? Money, status, happiness, they were all an illusion. These servants did not long to serve any more than those people she murdered longed to be burned alive. A whole system where every person lied worse than the person below them until you climbed to the heights of delusion and grandeur to find the biggest liars of them all.

“Did you meet the pontiff,” asked the blond maid cleaning her hands.

“Leave me,” said Farnese. The girls looked at each other then retreated. She slumped into the water and blew bubbles that reminded her of her ward. Who will give Casca a bath now or hold her hand when she is scared? Who will keep her safe when the tide of battle threatens to swallow her? She missed Isidro and his scampish ways. Guts acted as though he needed no one, but his wounds were not healing and his thoughts were troubled. Schierke liked teaching her magic as much as she liked learning. How can Farnese drown in loneliness again having tasted the sweet wine of friendship? What will become of their mission with her gone? Serpico would take care of them, she was sure of it. He was always so dependable. They can do without her, at least.

“M’lady,” said the young maid, “Your change of clothes is prepared.” Farnese dunked her head under the water and held her breath. The tension filled her lungs as she tried to remain underwater as long as possible. A young face looked down as bubbles popped from her mouth. The tension and pressure mounted until she couldn’t take the pain and reemerged from the water with a gasp.

Farnese stepped out of the pool before extending her arms. The three women patted her dry with towels as she looked around the room. She put on pantaloons. A maid dragged a slip over her head then two women fixed a corset on her body, tying the strings so tight she could hardly breath. The garment made the heavy silver shirt feel almost pleasant.

“Where are my dagger and shirt,” said Farnese.

“They were damaged, so we thought we would dispose of them,” said the blond woman. “Should you require, we will prepare new ones.” They could not so easily replace gifts from her mistress. Farnese marched out the door. “M’lady, you are not decent! P-please wait! Your clothes!”

The three women ran after her. One held out a dress as though seeing her prison uniform would entice her back into the cage.

“Lady Farnese,” called Serpico from the hallway by the store house. “I…” He closed his eyes then turned red. Farnese followed a maid carrying a basket into the store room.

“You, wait right there,” she called and the woman turned. Farnese grabbed the moon hilted dagger and heavy silver shirt then clutched them to her chest feeling like that little girl again. Magnifico’s dirty blond hair had a brownish hue unlike her father’s. A large overcoat with puffy shoulders covered his intricate gold accented tunic tapered around his waist where it met trousers of a similar fabric. A jade ring hanging on a leather string around his neck matched his belt buckle and the buckles of his boots. The outfit cost more than most estates.

“Your behavior is as unprecedented as ever, little sister,” said Magnifico. Serpico stood in the entrance looking at her behind his stoic wall. “No wonder Father’s amazed.”

“Magnifico, brother,” said Farnese. She perked up suddenly aware of her impropriety then tried to hide behind a smile.

“Would you mind joining me for a constitutional around the maze,” asked Magnifico.

“Of course, just let me dress first,” said Farnese. “Can you keep these safe for me?” She handed Serpico the knife and shirt without waiting for an answer then disappeared into the bathroom. The maids pulled a formal gown over her head. One laced the dress while another brushed her hair. The girl tried to knot Farnese’s hair into a bun but it was too short so she pinned a lace head covering embroidered with flowers onto the short blond mess. Frilly silk sleaves extending past Farnese’s hands hindered her ability to do fine actions. Pointy leather shoes completed the outfit. The dysfunctional clothing made walking difficult. A silk train dragged behind her so she lifted up the dress.

“Ahem,” said a maid who looked at part of her slip sticking out the bottom. Farnese dropped the garment enough to cover the slip. She felt like a bow legged pirate waddling down the hallway to the warehouse but Magnifico smiled all the same.

“Much better,” said Magnifico. Was it? Was it really? Farnese frowned, sighed then followed him into the northern courtyard. “Have you met with our other brothers?”

“No, I have only met with you and father,” said Farnese. Magnifico’s smile exposed his unnaturally white teeth.

“Naturally,” said Magnifico as he took the eastern branch towards the maze entrance. “The Vandimions aren’t very tightly knit. How long has it been? We’ve not seen each other in years, since before you were sent to the convent. But much regarding you has reached my ears. Your work with the Holy Iron Chain Knights and the unfortunate troubles that followed.” Farnese watched the ground as her brother spoke both out of shame and for the curious accumulation of snow pocketed against the hedge maze. A thin frost twinkled off the green walls. The hedges opened into a small pool with a clover shaped fountain bubbling water. The cold prickled the exposed skin on her neck and cheeks. “A pity that, but lift up your eyes.” A hand pulled up Farnese’s chin then directed her gaze to Magnifico’s. “There’s no need to worry. No fault lies with you. Instead, father deserves the blame. He gave his tacit consent when the Holy See’s priests made you the leader of the Holy Iron Chain Knights, though you know nothing and now see how he speaks to you.”

“Was he raising a pure flower in a greenhouse to protect it from the uncleanliness of the outside world,” continued Magnifico. “That’s hardly what that was. He just aimlessly left you to yourself. He did nothing short of abandoning his responsibilities as a parent. Even when you set fire to the mansion, father was the one to blame for goading his only daughter that far. Even if the words Vandimion Devil Child passed people’s lips, that is not your own indiscretion.”

The thought, naturally, crossed her mind as well. How sweet it was to blame her parents and the rotten job they did raising her but most grow up in worse circumstances and become perfectly functional people. Her father did not earn her the title of ‘Devil Child’. Her father did not instruct her to enact great evil. The shame belonged to her. The guilt would dwell within her mind until her final days.

“I, too, have sought comfort in thoughts of blaming others,” said Farnese. “Mother was neglectful. Father uncaring. I told myself, I was too weak and young and useless to be held accountable. It’s not that I don’t understand how you feel…”

“Eh,” interrupted Magnifico as his angry face stared at his reflection in the fountain, “that BASTARD thinks of his family as nothing more than cogs in the giant machine called Vandimion! Inferior products that don’t meet his approval are cast off without hesitation or any show of concern! Just as if they were stones by the wayside!” Magnifico… the black sheep of her family. Giorgio was born to be the head of the Vandimion Bank. Pontifico was born to be the next pontiff. Magnifico had no such purpose when he was born like a third rook with no spot on the board. Father whisked him away to a boarding school then college and finally to lead trading operations in a remote outpost to the north. Farnese looked at her forlorn visage in the water next to his angry one and realized they were not so different.

“So,” said Magnifico, “what brings you here?”

“I had hoped father could use his influence to secure a vessel for me and my friends to travel across the great ocean,” said Farnese.

“A journey to the west, by ship, with companions,” asked Magnifico. “For a woman, you… No. Rather I guess this is like you.”

“We talked with traders throughout Vritannis, but every ship was engaged with the war effort so I thought to see if father would use his influence,” said Farnese.

“Vritannis is now literally overflowing with anchored ships,” said Magnifico, “but its no exaggeration to say nearly all of them are involved with the war. The idea of finding a ship to carry personal travelers at a time like this, even if you did ask father he would never consent to such a request that held no personal interest…” Magnifico stared off into the water as if he were a sooth-sayer gazing into his crystal ball. The man folded his hands behind his back then walked away from Farnese. “A single ship… That would not be beyond my power.”

“W-what,” asked Farnese.

“But in return, I too have a request to make of my sister,” said Magnifico.

“A request,” asked Farnese.

“I have come to town accompanying an old friend from college, Roderick, The Sailing Prince of YS, on a mission to deliver a statement of neutrality to the Holy See,” said Magnifico. “YS is not like the rest of the continent, being an island nation cut off by a raging channel. They developed a culture where women of strong character are viewed positively. Being of seven children in a prestigious family he very much understands our neglect, having been shoved to Sea at an early age and forgotten.” A serious Serpico watched them by the entrance. Her sense of foreboding came back as her eyes connected with the bodyguard’s and he could only look away. “You would be expected to bare many children, lead your house hold and raise them as you saw fit, as is custom in YS. Unlike any political match our father would dream up, you have a real chance at happiness.” Marriage, a prison with golden bars by another name.

“I would consent, if it means securing passage for my friends,” said Farnese, “When would I get to meet him?”

“Wonderful! Right now,” said Magnifico gesturing for Serpico to join then. The solemn bodyguard walked to the pool. “The matter is settled.” Serpico bowed then turned to leave but she grabbed his arm.

“Please, return my shirt and dagger to Schierke,” said Farnese.

“Yes, M’Lady,” said Serpico. She stood from the fountain then dusted herself off.

“May I have a minute,” asked Farnese.

“By all means,” said Magnifico, “When you have composed yourself, please meet us at the greenhouse by the entrance. I must warn you, Roderick is the most deplorable romantic.”

The woman exited the maze where the enameled greenhouse sat like a tomb. She hurried to the forking path then walked towards the cemetery. Her dress bottom dragged through the muddy ground half covered in snow past the open gate into the graveyard. Gargoyles stared down at her from Lucrezia’s monument. Her Great-Great Grandmother must have been an exceptional women. Her grandmother’s legacy echoed through the generations while Farnese’s worth didn’t exceed a boat passage for three. She continued north down the path to her sacred tree.

The black, charred husk of her holy tree jutted out of the healthy forest that had healed from the fire she set burning her dress. A fire licked idol laid among the thigh high burnt stump. Her knees connected with the soft muddy ground. Tears burst from her eyes as a whaling, gasping sob closed her throat and chest. Her destiny was the same as when she was a child: to be sold to a nobleman like chattel. Fate was a circuitous path leading back to itself. She would allow herself this one moment of sadness and reflection and would cry no more as there was soon work to do. A women’s work of pretending and appearances, of being what everyone else wanted her to be. Of taking the voice within her that wanted to scream forth and choke it into a whimper. But in this moment she could just be the thing she had always been: a hurt, scared little girl struggling against the darkness. The darkness of night, the darkness in her own soul, and now the darkness of the future.

Farnese found a measure of contentment by the time the last tear wrung from her eyes. Her over-sized silk sleeve wiped the snot from her face. Her breath was calm and clear again. She stood, dusted herself off then walked through the cemetery, down the forking path and back to greenhouse.

A sweet floral smell filling the tiny glass building wafted from red roses occupying every planter. There was no way this was done just now. They had been planning this meeting for quite some time. How did Magnifico know she was coming? Everything was so very convenient, all of it. Roderick was everything she wanted in a husband. Everything she ever wanted… Serpico’s smiling face entered her thoughts. Serpico directed them to Vritannis. They could have much more quickly gone north or east but instead they took the long route south. He disappeared often to gather firewood, forage, or buy supplies. He apologized for not being able to let her go. He was the one who talked to all the ship captains, couldn’t find passage and didn’t want her involved in the matter. They spent many nights together in the mess hall at Albion talking of her dreams of getting married and having a big family. A man as unchanging as Serpico could not understand that people change. Dreams change, Serpico.

A tall, handsome ship captain wearing a breast plate adorned with nautical themed enameling entered the green house behind Magnifico. Calm blue eyes greeted her between thick black hair and a handsome square jaw. The muscular, tan man was a full head taller than her. By most standards he would have been considered quite imposing but the monstrous Black Swordsman still dwarfed him.

“There you are, Farnese,” said Magnifico, “Excellent. I’m pleased you accepted my request. No need to worry, I won’t steer you wrong. Go on and introduce yourself my old friend.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Farnese de Vandimion, I am Roderick of Schtauffen, an officer of Ilth navy,” said Roderick. Despite his rugged handsomeness the man had a quiet, melancholy way. Farnese looked into his eyes but Roderick couldn’t maintain the contact instead looking over the flowers. Did he regret this decision so soon?

“Greet him,” said Magnifico, “he’s your fiance!” Farnese held out a listless hand that Roderick took with an enthusiasm matching hers.

“Your Lordship,” said Farnese. He bent to kiss her hand.

“I would be honored if you would call me Roderick, Lady Farnese,” said Roderick.

“How do you do, Roderick,” said Farnese courtesying. “Then likewise call me Farnese.”

“Roderick is an old friend from my college days, he’s third in line to the royal throne of Ilth and a ship’s captain in the Ilth Navy. It’s said…,” said Magnifico.

“I have heard much about you from your brother,” interrupted Roderick, “about the Vandimion devil child and the wandering princess.”

“Uh, Roderick, that’s kind of abrupt,” said Magnifico.

“Yes, that is correct,” said Farnese. Her brother looked like he had a stomachache as a bead of sweat leaked down his face. “I am sure you did not hear the worst of it.” Roderick laughed a hearty belly laugh then leveled a smile at her that would have made most women weak in the knees but immediately put her on her guard. Roderick put his hands on her shoulders then brought his eyes an uncomfortable closeness to her own.

“You ARE interesting,” said Roderick. What a polite choice of words.

“Look around Farnese, at the roses spread throughout this greenhouse,” said Magnifico. “Roderick’s given them all to you.” The man smiled and leaned back his head as though proud of himself despite the fact that the gesture gave away the whole plan.

“All these, that’s incredible,” said Farnese.

“It was a bit of an effort making it worthy of the daughter of the esteemed Vandimion family but do they please you,” asked Roderick. The man reminded her of every suitor who came to balls in her youth seeking to curry favor with house Vandimion.

“They do, thank you very much,” said Farnese. The man held two hands in a square looking at her as though framing her in a picture.

“Oh yeah,” said Roderick, “well, you make for quite the picture surrounded by roses. But you know, for my part, I just can’t bring myself to roses. Roses are said to be ladies among flowers. A symbol of evident nobility, they bloom fully and haughtily. All other flowers look like mere window dressing. Yes, indeed just like noble women. Competing through dress and showiness inside the greenhouse that is noble rank. But even when roses are gathered by the hundred or the thousand, you can’t tell one from the next. These roses are a fitting adornment for you. A white lily of the field which scatters not even when struck by a strong wind.”

The speech felt so rehearsed and fake. Farnese knew she was not worthy of such fine words but that was just the currency by which he tried buying the affections of Lord Vandimion’s daughter. The happy man smiled. She felt a great sadness as her hands longed to clutch something. Her rabbit, her page boy, a gauntlet, Guts’ arm, the silver dagger.

“I need a moment,” said Farnese as she rubbed her hands.

“That is fine,” said Magnifico, “but we are attending a ball and you need to come so others may see you and Roderick in public together.”

“That would be my pleasure,” said Farnese. Her head bowed to Roderick then she hurried out the door. The south path brought her to the mansion. Late afternoon already threatened a cold evening as the sun started its nightly descent. She found the apple bin in the storeroom then ran back towards the maze where Roderick and Magnifico talked within the green house. She zig-zagged down paths until she hit the river. A small bench sat in a large square before a bridge. Her breath puffed out in white clouds as she sat. A snow flake fell.

Farnese stared at the apple until her eyes burned from the effort ingraining it’s image on her vision. Her breath lightened. Calmer. Calm. The scent of spring filled her mind. The taste of apples danced on her tongue. To understand the essence, she must be the essence. Align her thoughts and feelings with the energy contained within the fruit.

The stress and negativity which just flooded her thoughts disappeared as she concentrated. Her eyes closed onto a dense red mist swirling around yellow lightning streaks of energy. The blackness darkened. A bird tweeting in the distance grew quieter as the hum of vibrating energy rattled in her hands. The coldness on her skin faded away. All senses disappeared as though she were now nothing but darkness. The red mist formed a red ball that pulsed with so much energy she could barely hold it. The object exploded with energy like a galaxy churning in the palm of her hand. The red blob pulsing with the mysteries of the universe took the shape of an apple. At the bottom of the apple, this sunburst within her palms, she could see her small white finger tips. Her luminous body gazed on the essence of the apple and somehow it was staring back at her.

 

 

End Book 3

 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Queens of the World