Puppet of Fate

It looked ridiculous.

            Also, terrifying. A hideous war mask with a prominent brow and a beak. It was an antique. In the shadowed eye slits her yellow eyes were hard and unblinking. Besides that, she wore the green Crann Kingdom tabard like other soldiers and knights of the realm. The banquet hall was a sea of green, sown with oak trees. A forest of men and women in armour drank and shared stories.

            “Where did you get that?” Danielle Long asked Catherine Harper about the mask.

            “It was part of the royal collection, a gift from the queen.” In the shadow of the tarnished mask, it was hard to see her lips moving. Only tiny scratches in the layer of black silver sulphide showed it was a truly priceless piece. It resembled a carved mask blackened with boot polish. “Her majesty said it symbolises that even things which are tarnished can be cleaned up to redeem themselves. I prefer to think that even things which are broken and stained can be valuable.”

            “She came to you personally?”

            “Queen Malin has been visiting me regularly.”

            “You have the queen’s ear?”

            “She mentions you sometimes.”

            Danielle coughed out cider. “Me?”

            “She has a pet name for you. She calls you the Puppet of Fate.”

            “Why?”

            The beaked mask was still as the woman beneath laughed. “Because you keep wading up to your neck in shit and coming out clean. Werewolves, talking trees, harpies,” Catherine raised a pale finger each time.

            “They weren’t werewolves. They were loup garous.”

            The woman in the bird mask shrugged. She pointed to the sling around Danielle’s arm. “What’s that all about?”

            “Horse riding practice. Horses don’t seem to like me. I still have to learn to ride to become a knight. And to read.” Attention paid to the broken arm was repaid with a screaming pain from her elbow to lower back. More cider was needed.

            “Why didn’t your da’ teach you?” asked miss Harper, sipping watered down beer from her flagon. Yellow eyes sank into miss Longbow as the bird faced woman rested her cheek on a closed fist, elbow propping her up.

            “I thought everyone knew my dad was a drunken oaf?”

            “Never cared about knights until they all got slaughtered at Worldworm’s Bridge. Barely care now I sit at the next table down from them. Not friends with so many as you.”

            “I only really know Sir Fabian,” she said of the man who trained her to fight with a sword.

“That’s one more’n me. Not long an’ you’ll be one as well.” The more she drank, the more Catherine sounded like the commoner she was.

            “I have to learn to read, write and ride first. That won’t be any day soon.”

            “Doesn’t matter how many rungs the ladder has, hero, as long as you’re on your way up.”

            “I’ll drink to that.” Danielle flashed her white teeth and exhaled the scent of fermented apple sweetened with honey.

            “I’ll drink to anything these days, long as I’m breathing.” Miss Harper clinked her flagon against miss Longbow’s. Both drank until there was nothing left.

            “Ever think about all of the men we’ve killed?”

            “Yeah,” said the war mask-wearing woman, “and I think fuck ‘em. They tried to kill us all. I want to grab their golden hair, cut a red line across their throats, and watch the life drain from their blue eyes. They’re a plague. I wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for Emperor Righteous Cane and his crusade. We need to kill them all.” The yellow in her eyes was darker. She rolled up her sleeve, making Danielle wince at the scars on her arm caused by silver coins. “This wouldn’t have happened to me if it wasn’t for them. Causing death, bringing those harpies to the blood of slaughter.”

            “I gave you those scars Cat,” she was interrupted.

            “NO. You saved me from turning into a monster.” The clawed gauntlet flashed to Danielle’s shoulder as the now drunk woman squeezed it. Pain giggled down the fallen rider’s arm. “I will always be grateful to you for saving me. Know that.”

            “I was just trying to say I’ve had enough of death. Hurting people, killing people, it scars your soul. I have nightmares about what I’ve done.”

            Images of dying soldiers on the top of the wall overtook reality. Leather wrapping on a red knife in her hand. Hot blood on her face as the snow fell. Screams. Groans. Pleas for help or mercy. Crying. Grown men weeping at their own mortality. Young men dying for a man they had never met.

            “You were gone a while Puppet of Fate.” Yellow eyes peered through the fog in her mind. Laughter and the clink of cutlery met her ears again.

            “I’m not always asleep when the nightmares take over.”

            “I can walk you back to your house. The noise sets me off as well sometimes.”

            “No.” Danielle screwed up her eyes to squeeze out the last of the inevitable tears and wiped them away on her sleeve before anyone could see them. She couldn’t let Catherine follow her home. No one could know about the secret stashed away at the cottage.

            “Sure?”

            “I’m sure. I just need to clear my head. Easier to do that alone. You understand?”

            “More than most.” The mask nodded. Yellow eyes blinked shut for a moment.

            “Thank you.” A grateful hand rested on Miss Harper’s shoulder.

Danielle’s brown eyes scoured the table for something she could take with her. Half a loaf deformed in her clutch.

            “Didn’t think you were hungry?”

            “I will be later. Goodnight, Cat.”

            “Goodnight, Dan.”

Bread in hand, the walking wounded left the dining hall. The sweaty heat gave way to a dry chill. Her footsteps echoed off the granite walls. Oaken doors creaked on their hinges. Cold winds whipped the air from her lungs. Fresh powder crunched beneath her feet. A now familiar sting spread across her face where flesh met the breeze.

Leonor was quiet. Soldiers were feasting. Commoners were off to bed. Guards stood watch on the walls. Here and there the slush on the cobbles was still pink with the blood of friends and foes. The stink of the pyres still clung to the buildings. Acid tasting breath threatened consequences if she didn’t get inside fast.

Fumbling with numb yet painful fingers she found the key in the leather pouch and turned it in the lock.

Red fabric revealed a burst stitch. Orange light revealed the chaos of her home. Yellow hair revealed her secret. His blue eyes still looked at her with fear.

            She threw the bread with her good arm. He caught it and looked.

            “It’s not poison.”

            “I know,” he said. She heard the cold bread ripping in his jaws. “Thank you.”

A knock on the door set her heart to the gallop.

            “Danielle. I’ve got something for you.” It was Cat.

            “What?”

            “Your shield, again.”

            “Thanks,” she looked at the boy who had half chewed bread in his mouth. A waving hand told him to hide in the bedroom. A blinking nod was all he gave before creeping to the half open door. “Just a moment.” The boy disappeared into the shadow of the bedroom. The door creaked quietly shut.

            “Not want your father’s shield?”

            “I do.” Danielle moved to the door and checked again that the bedroom door was closed. She tugged the stiff door open, sending a shock of pain up her broken arm.

            “Hiding something, Longbow?” The hawk mask was inscrutable. The eyes beneath had a shadow of suspicion across them.

            “Of course not. Can I have my shield?”

Catherine held the shield in two hands. Only Danielle could wear it on one arm with a sword in the other.

            As she took the shield with her good hand the uninvited guest glided past her into the cottage.

            “I need to sleep,” said the owner of the shield. It took all her concentration not to yell at Cat to get out.

            “Come on. You know I was jokin’ show me around. Give me the tour. I know Lupita is still at the feast so it’s not like I’ll walk in on her naked. It’s nice here.” The nosey woman with a beaked mask ran her hands over the books on the table. “Serious woman, Lupita. Magic.”

            “Yes. She is.” It was too short. She knew she was being too impatient.

            “Thought I heard a voice when I was outside.”

            “Probably mine.”

            “You put on an imperial accent when you’re alone?”

            “Cat. Please. I need to sleep.”

            “I’d better help then. I’ll get the bedroom door for you.”

            “NO NEED.” That was it. She was over the line into ‘look at me, I’m hiding something’ voice.

            “I insist.” The unwanted guest was at the bedroom door in a heartbeat and a kick slammed the door against the wall.

            “I really hoped I was wrong,” said the yellow eyed woman. Danielle saw her draw a knife from her belt.

            “Catherine, please let me explain.” She edged to the doorway. The boy had his hands up, standing by the bed because there was nowhere else to go.

            “You fucking TRAITOR!” Cat had a knife in her hand and murder in her yellow eyes.