Aftermath

TW: illness, death and grieving.

Waiting drove Sir Danielle Longbow mad. Pacing between the infirmary and the dungeons she was wearing through her leather boots. Her armour clinked together on her broad shoulders as she moved. Danielle was used to the sound of her second skin.

Knights injured in the fight with harpies the night before groaned in the hospital beds. They would live or die, that was one thing. Being bitten by a winged vampire was another.

Walking down the granite stairs of Leonor Castle into the dungeon being used for isolation, she heard the screams. Two friends and a stranger fought for their lives in adjoining cells. Each patient had a silver tipped crossbow bolt aimed at their heart. Pure metals could kill a harpy, and held off the transition in those who were still human.

Behind bars, Catherine Harper sat on a stone bench meant to be a prisoner’s cot. Silver coated chains circled her wrists and ankles. Despite swearing up a storm of curses to herself and rocking back and forwards as her flesh scorched, the assassin was in the best shape of the three. She’d been bitten years before. Catherine knew how to fight the change.

Unlike Catherine, Jennifer Sadler in the middle cell was new to the burn of silver during a transition. Her screams stabbed at Danielle’s eardrums. Jennifer tugged at the chains and trembled in agony. Flesh anywhere touched by the silver was red and blistered as if she was clapped in irons fresh from the fire. Her plain tan dress was muddied and damp from rain.

“Kill me!” Jennifer pleaded. “Please. I can’t. I can’t. It hurts. Kill me please.”

“Hold on, Jennifer.” Danielle took a moment to rip the young woman’s name from the chaos of memories filling her head. “You can beat this. It will fade.”

“No.” Shaking her head, her black hair fell over her bloodshot eyes. The brown had tinges of yellow. “I don’t want this. Please.”

“Fight,” Danielle shouted. “Fight it.”

“She’s screaming in my head.” Jenny clamped her hands over her ears. Blood ran from her nose. Done begging, she wailed with monstrous intensity.

Sir Longbow walked to the last cell. Lying on a stretcher, likewise bound in chains, was Sir Narinda Novem. Stitches glistened in the cooked flesh of the wound Danielle had cauterised across her carotid artery.

Jenny on the bars. A knight still wet behind the ears flinched with his crossbow in hand. Sir Morris Blueberry turned, having the sense to aim down. The two other guards looked at him, then back to their targets.

“Sir,” he said with a voice that had the high pitched break of puberty all over again. He rushed to unlock the door with the key around his neck. Iron screeched, adding to the curved scratches in the floor as Morris pushed the door open.

“How is she?” Danielle asked her wife.

“Still alive,” Lupita said, mopping the sweat from the brown skin of her brow. “That’s a victory in itself. I don’t know how long she can fight this though.”

Narinda’s body convulsed on the stretcher. Spasms travelled from her middle to her head and toes. Her eyelids sprung open, eyes golden yellow. Unfocussed, the eyes turned Danielle’s stomach.

“Should I hold her down?”

“No. Hold her hand. We can’t help her fight this. Right now all we can do is talk to her and make sure she knows we don’t want her to die. You hear me, Narinda? Danielle is here.”

Taking her knight’s hand, Sir Longbow squeezed gently. Tenderness of the moment was thrown off by Jenny Sadler’s roaring pleas for death. “Don’t listen to her, Narinda. The three of you are going to be alright. Just keep fighting.” Yawning behind her hand, Danielle sighed. Trying to blink away exhaustion did nothing. “Picture everyone you love. Think of everyone you want to see again. Hold onto life. Cling to who you are. You’re not a monster. Sir Narinda Novem you are too strong to give up. You crossed the ocean. You proved yourself as a Nameless Knight. You fought monsters. This is not the end. Do you hear me? You’re going to live.”

Danielle looked through the bars at Jennifer Sadler thrashing like a child having a tantrum. “That goes for you as well. You’re not going to die so hurry up and fight it. We killed the harpies. There’s only one left. If she’s screaming in your head then tell her to shut up.”

Lupita reached for Danielle’s free hand when the knight yawned again. Knowing there was nothing good to distract her with the witch and healer asked about the other bad news. “Who died?” Bodies had come back from Afon Fos wrapped in cloth.

Pulling a list on a scrap of parchment from a pouch on her belt Danielle squinted at it. Being able to read didn’t mean she liked to, unlike Lupita. “Mostly new recruits.

Sir William Oakly-” before she could continue the list, Danielle was interrupted.

“Will is dead?” Morris asked with glistening eyes.

“Yes, Sir Blueberry. He was dropped from a great height. His ribs had punctured his lung. He fought for life. Only great strength let him make it back to Leonor. You knew him well?”

“Since we were born. Spring children.” Freckles on Morris’ face quivered with emotion. “Our mothers were close. His mother died when the empire broke through the wall. Who’ll tell his betrothed? Agnes wants children. She’s forward about it. A dozen red haired scamps she says.

He would have been a good father. He was funny. Told the most outrageous jokes. Once he told me one in a bar. I laughed so hard my beer came out of my nose.” Mirth and grief wrestled for control of the young knight’s face. Devastation won out He sniffed. “Is it normal to have a headache when you think about these things?”

“There’s no wrong way to feel when someone dies,” said Lupita. “Seems to me that you loved him like a brother.” She smiled, the line of her off white teeth broken by a single strand of her tightly curled black hair.

“I do.” Morris corrected himself. “I did.” He winced.

“And you always will. Love never dies.” Kissing Danielle, Lupita moved to the door of the cell. “I need to see the coven. Sir Narinda needs our help.

“Could the royal coven have saved Will?” Morris asked with the first spark of anger rising up from his gut.

“We can’t save him now. Perhaps we can save Sir Novem. Be strong, Sir Blueberry. Your friend’s betrothed will need the comfort of a friend. We all know the pain of loss in Leonor. My mother was burned at the stake for the magic that later saved the kingdom. She taught me the healing I use now. We all lost family when the empire waged war upon us. Sir Longbow lost her father-”

“To drink. Not in battle,” Danielle broke in.

“My apologies, dear wife, did the middle of my sentence interrupt the start of yours?” Lupita frowned.

“Sorry. Go on.”

“Fear not. I was going to.” Turning back to Morris, Lupita continued. “My point is, we’ve grieved as you are. Talking about it helps. If you need to talk to us, or your friends, do that.”

“Thank you, Mistress Lupita.”

Nodding, Lupita left to fetch her coven.

Danielle held Narinda’s hand which was a warm brown, lighter than Lupita’s dark skin. The contrast showed how pale Danielle’s was. “You can do this,” she said. “Keep fighting, Sir Novem. Jennifer’s screaming defied her wish for silence.Through the bars Jenny’s eyes still had a touch of brown to them. She fought in her own way, howling that she couldn’t.

“How are you, Catherine?” Danielle yelled to the assassin two cells down who was an old pro at resisting the harpy transition.

“Sometimes I wish I was a man,” Catherine replied. “That way the bite would have killed me quickly.”

“If you’d been a man in those days you would have gone to your death on Worldworm’s Bridge with the rest of the king’s knights. You would have died long before the harpies came to Crann.”

“They would never have taken me as a knight back then, even if I was a man.” Catherine groaned.

“Holding on?”

“It’s getting easier. That last harpy is flying away. I can feel it. Can you feel it Jenny?”

“I feel fire burning from my wrists and ankles. I want to die.”

“That’s the spirit Jennifer. Stay positive.”

“I hate you,” Miss Sadler roared.

“Live through this and you can take your revenge. How about a duel?”

Glaring through the bars, Jenny’s eyes flashed pure gold. She screeched a monstrous sound. She strained against her chains to lunge at Danielle.

“No. Concentrate on everything you love. Stay with us.”

“I can’t. She says-”

“Ignore her. As soon as my duties are done here I’m going to put a sword through her. She will not be coming back.”

Blood dribbled out over Jennifer’s lip as she raged in feral fury. “PROMISE?”

“I swear it. I will kill that harpy.”

“And I’ll help,” said Catherine.

Through the bars Danielle saw Jennifer Sadler find her strength. Kneeling in the straw spread across the granite flagstones, the woman bitten in the streets of Afon Fos grabbed at her hair and shook her head. “Shut up. Leave me alone. You can’t have me.” A roar that sounded vaguely like no rumbled between her gritted teeth.

“That’s it Jenny. Tell her. You’re stronger than she is. And she’s far away by now.”

Anguished screaming turned to defiant cries.

Sir Novem twitched. Danielle squeezed her hand. “We’re all fighting Narinda. You keep fighting.” Pale from blood loss, the knight’s normally chestnut skin had a grey tinge.

The clap of leather shoes hit the stairs by the dozen and echoed off the walls. Danielle’s heart lightened as Lupita led the royal coven, many wearing their pine needle green uniforms. The gold oak of Crann flapped on the folds. Danielle stepped away from Narinda as the men and women who came to the kingdom as fugitives from witch hunters formed a circle.

“Can I-”

Lupita shook her head. “We will look after her now. Attend your other duties. I’ll see you at home.” Ignoring the others around her, Lupita went to kiss Danielle on the cheek. Turning to meet the touch lips to lips Danielle held her lover’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together for a moment too brief for them and far too long and uncomfortable for the coven.

Winking with her last look at Lupita, Danielle walked away.

Dark morning had become midday. Danielle shook and kneaded at the bags under her eyes with her scarred knuckles.

Checking her list again she had a courier take her to the home of the first family whose hearts she would break. Her empty scabbard flapped at her side. She hoped the sword made from the metal of her father’s could be retrieved from the river that circled Afon Fos.

Well known in Leonor, eyes followed her.

“Did you kill the monsters Sir Longbow?” asked an old woman with a basket of peat balanced on her head.

“All but one.” Danielle couldn’t look the crone with a bent back in the eye. “Are we close?” she asked the young lad who typically delivered messages.

“Aye sir.” He nodded. “The next left. Third floor.” He slipped in something splattered across the grey granite cobblestones. Catching his arm, she righted him.

At the door of Sir Iain Moorfoot’s family Danielle knocked on the painted steel door and stepped back. “Where are they?” she asked when some time had passed with no sound beyond the door.

“It’s midday, Sir. They’ll be working.”

“Know where?” Why would you? she thought.

“Mary Moorfoot works in Roslinlee Printers on Inkers Row. Aisling works in a paper mill on the old Border River.

Groaning, Danielle reached into her purse and pulled out coppers. Thrusting them into the boy’s hand she told him to fetch Aisling Moorfoot with a coin and to tell her it was urgent. Nodding, the boy ran.

Roslinlee Printers stank of ink from a block away. Men and women with hands stained black carried printing press blocks and stacks of fresh paper towards the mill. Others stacked newly printed pages to be taken to the binders at the end of Inkers Row. Books from Crann were driving down the cost of reading across the continent and netting the kingdom a fortune in the process.

Danielle found the Moorfoot matriarch straightening a printing block and testing it on paper that wasn’t fit for the final product.

“Mary?” Danielle’s stocky shadow fell across the woman whose skin was pale, fingers black and forehead swiped with ink from wiping away sweat.

“Aye. ‘At’s me. Who’s askin’ You’re a knight?” Mary rolled her r sounds as she spoke, which was common among the working class Cranners.

“I’m Sir Danielle Longbow. Can you tell your boss you need the day off? I’ll cover your lost pay. We need to talk. In private.”

“Sir Longbow? The battle.” Mary’s eyes snapped from her jagged fingernails to Danielle. “How is he? Injured?”

Biting her lip, Danielle struggled to look Mary in the eye. “He was bitten. Sir Moorfoot died fighting the harpies.”

“What?” Mary spoke the word as if she thought someone had called her a whore under their breath.

“Harpies were working in pairs to pull off knight’s helmets and bite them. Their talons can paralyse.”

“I don’t need a fucking lecture on them. I need my husband. Aisling needs a father. What am I supposed to tell her?” Mary put her hands on her hips and glared.

“I’ll tell her myself. I’ve sent for her. We’ll meet her at your house. You know she can go to the school now. She’ll be taught to read and write. Unless Leonor is attacked she’ll never have to fight like we did.” Danielle said, referencing the battles fought by all of Leonor’s citizens when they had been attacked by the northern empire years before.

Mary’s boss came to ask her why she wasn’t working. Danielle compensated him for Mary taking the day off. Grumbling, he snapped at another worker to take Mary’s place.

“Where is he now?” Mary asked as they walked slowly back to her home. “I want to see him.”

“In the military mortuary. Do you want to take your daughter to see him? His body is swollen. He won’t look how you remember him.”

Hearing those words Mary gave Danielle a look as vicious as any of the harpies. “He should have stayed in the mill. It’s a good wage.”

“I’m sorry Missus Moorfoot.”

“Dinnie tell me you’re fuckin’ sorry. That’s nae good to me. He trusted you. Stories about the mighty Sir Longbow. He believed in you.” Danielle’s headache intensified. She bit back justifications and apologies. Mary didn’t want to talk. “Who’s paying for his funeral?”

“The kingdom pays for the funerals of its knights. He’ll have a place in the warrior’s cemetery after the cremation.”

“He was a good man. A good husband. Worked hard since he was six. Always put food on the table. Never hit me. Even when we yelled.” Mary clenched her fists with knuckles that would have been white if not for the ink. “Why couldn’t you save him?” Danielle kept her eyes down. There was no good answer to that question. “Are you sure it’s him? You said the body’s swollen. Maybe it’s somebody else.” Mary nodded, building false hope for herself.

“It’s him, Mary.”

Blossoming delusional hope turned into fury in a heartbeat. “You’ve ruined us. We were happy. We had work. A home. He saw the wages a knight gets paid. A title. Iain thought it was a miracle. The chance to have people call him sir. You know what the Moorfoots were? Hunters. Tanners.” She spat. “From that to knights. I’d be a lady, he said. Lady Moorfoot. I don’t feel like a lady. Just another widow now. Fuck you. Fuck your knights.” Mary spat. Every footstep on her stairs smacked down hard. Her key twanged off the door before her shaking hands negotiated the lock.

Armour racks lined the wall. Crann standard armour sat next to the empty one where Sir Iain’s armour would have been. The swords made when the threat of an imperial attack always felt a day away rested in scabbards on the wall.

“He was younger than you wasn’t he?” Danielle asked.

“Of course. All the older ones charged off into arrows on Worldworm’s Bridge.” Mary stopped at Iain’s armour stand. “I helped him dress yesterday. I tightened the straps. I kissed him goodbye. Ye never think it’ll be the last time.” She touched a band of metal around her marriage finger. Caked in ink, Danielle hadn’t seen it before.

“Shall we sit, Sir?” Mary asked coldly, gesturing to seats around a small circular table lined with the rings of the trunk it was carved from. Slumping into her seat the mother cradled her head in her hands and wept.

Danielle sat heavily opposite the widow. Brawny, hairy arms resting on the table, Danielle thought of the other names on the list.

Bangs of Mary stabbing the table repeatedly with a fork roused Danielle from grim contemplation. Shivering, her cheeks a waterfall of tears, Mary slammed the fork down continuously. The prongs bent but she kept on.

Footsteps beyond the door stopped on the landing. Aisling entered with the courier boy.

“Mammy? What is it?” Aisling asked. Her golden hair sat atop her head in a tightly tied bun.

“Come and sit down with your mother please, Aisling.” Danielle said, pointing to an empty seat with her right hand as if it was her home. “I have some bad news.”