Chapter Text
I walked back down the steps, more slowly than I wanted to; the wind had picked up, and the steps had a new coating of gritty snow over the bits of ice already. I didn't look back at the kindly-faced inquisitor. If I had, I would have been tempted to walk back up to her and strangle her for her blind obedience...
I stepped inside the main hall, and took a deep breath before I approached the big desk. Haurchefant was standing in front of the desk, muttering terse orders to a trio of young knights, his brow furrowed. An entire stack of letters sat beside him, and he grabbed them and slapped them into the hands of the knight in the middle of the group. “Get going!”
The three saluted, spun round, and I stepped neatly out of the way before they stampeded over me. All three young faces were set with determination.
Haurchefant met my eyes and gestured. “Well?”
“They've taken him to...” I swallowed. “A place called Witch Drop?”
“Witchdrop?!” Haurchefant almost yelled. Everyone in the hall paused, staring at their usually-cheerful commander. He took a breath, shook his head, and waved away the attention.
“Damn it,” he said, quieter. His eyes were full of outrage. “This is madness! The inquisitor does not have sufficient grounds to subject him to that manner of trial!” He snapped his head up and looked right at me. “I will not stand idly by and allow an innocent man to die. Berylla, I would dispatch you and one of my knights to Witchdrop. Stall the inquisitor, beg him, I don't care. Do whatever you must to keep Lord Francel alive!”
I nodded. Haurchefant waved to one of the older knights that always stood near, and the man stepped forward briskly, nodding to me before saluting Haurchefant and then heading straight for the door. I followed, glancing back once to see Haurchefant bending near his second in command, giving her rapid orders of some sort. Her face matched his for grimness.
As we made for the northern gate, I asked the knight, “What is Witchdrop? Oh, and your name, please.”
The knight half smiled as he swung up into the saddle. “Hourlinet, miss. Witchdrop is a place of trials. A deep crevasse is there, and the trial generally consists of asking the accused to take a leap of faith.”
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the now-howling wind. “Leap of faith?”
“They leap, and if they fall, then it is said Halone will sweep them up into her halls before they suffer any pain.” The knight's lips twisted. “Or they will reveal their true Dravanian ties, and take wing.”
“That's...that's ridiculous. Barbaric!” I protested.
“Lord Haurchefant would agree,” Hourlinet nodded. “But there were times when such tests were effective, I suppose. However,” and now his brow darkened, “such a trial is meant to be reserved for much more serious crimes than suspected heresy based off a single rosary. I don't like this situation, miss.”
“Just call me Berylla,” I said. “It's easier on both of us. You folks say “miss” and “my lady,” and I keep looking behind me to see who you're talking to.”
He laughed a little. “As you wish.”
He pointed. “The spot is just there, past this large rock. I suggest loosening your weapon. I cannot but think there will be strong resistance to our words.”
As we neared the black rock, we both dismounted and ground-tied the birds, who stood stock still, heads cocked, eyes keen. We walked forward, and I could hear the inquisitor's smooth, pitiless voice, carried on the wind.
“Prove your innocence in the eyes of gods and men. Leap from the cliff and entrust your fate...”
Hourlinet strode forward, putting himself between me and the tall inquisitor. Just on the other side of Guillaime, Francel stood, shivering in his House finery, his strawberry-blond hair disheveled. He stood straight and proud, despite the pure terror in his eyes.
“Inquisitor Guillaime!” Hourlinet called out. “In the name of House Fortemps, I beseech you─stay your hand! We are come on behalf of Lord Haurchefant. My lord has uncovered evidence which suggests that the charges against Lord Francel are without merit. We humbly request that these proceedings be suspended until such time as a full reexamination of the facts has been conducted.”
I set my feet, trying to feel the ground under the snow. The wind screamed, twisting through the crevasse, sounding like a mad, dying thing.
Guillaime stared at us both with cold, uncaring eyes. His thin lips tightened. “Lord Haurchefant has allowed his personal relationship with the accused to cloud his judgment. That he should harbor private doubts, I might have allowed...but that he would dare interfere in legal proceedings sanctioned by the Holy See, I cannot.” He raised his voice, and his left hand; his guards moved towards us, eyes eager and swords already drawn. “To defy the will of an inquisitor is to commit heresy! A crime for which there is but one punishment!”
Hourlinet drew his steel and shouted over his shoulder to me. “We must hold them until Lord Haurchefant arrives, Berylla! And remember─no harm can come to the inquisitor!”
I nodded once as I drew my axe. Then the two guards rushed us.
I whistled for Joy, but the wind snatched the sound away, and with a curse I scrambled out of the way of the guard's first wild swing. I side stepped, almost slipped on a hidden patch of ice, and managed to draw the man away from his fellow guard. He swung again, and I bashed his sword away, then pressed the attack, backing him up into the rocks. He stumbled, and I swiped at him, a testing strike. He ducked, cursing, and I eased back, watching him.
“Bitch!” He lunged forward, trying to skewer me, and I spun to my left, letting my weapon gather momentum for the swing. He howled as the blade bit deep into his arm, and dropped to his knees.
One down. I turned, looking for Hourlinet. The man was holding his own, but behind him I saw Inquisitor Guillaime gesturing. Four more men came pounding up as if summoned from the rocks.
“Damn it,” I growled, and charged them.
They scattered before me like tenpins, and one slipped and toppled right over the edge with a strangled scream.
“Get the woman!” Guillaime snapped.
Hourlinet finished off his opponent and dashed towards the newcomers.
I strode back toward him, swinging my axe in a wide circle; we managed to put our backs together before the remaining three got themselves organized.
“That's one hell of a chopper you have there,” Hourlinet grunted.
“Yep,” I replied, “and I've got the arm to use it, too. HAH!”
One of the three made the mistake of charging me, his spear raised. I cut his legs out from under him, the force of my strike sending him skidding across the snow to fetch up against the rocks. I heard a crack of metal on stone, and he went still.
Hourlinet sliced at another, and they backed up a little, eyeing us, and each other. I braced, knowing the next attack would be more coordinated.
“Kill them!” the inquisitor hissed.
“Haurchefant! Thank the gods!” Francel shouted.
The two guards paused, not dropping their sword points. I cautiously glanced around to see Haurchefant and five knights walking up. All five of them had their weapons at the ready; Haurchefant alone held his sword point down.
His expression was furious, but his voice was calm as he projected to make himself heard over the howling wind.
“It is not our intention to defy the will of the archbishop. But this trial─like many others, I fear─has been orchestrated by enemies of House Haillenarte. They have used you and your fellows to sow discord, Inquisitor─to set brother against brother, that we may tear ourselves apart.”
Guillaime sniffed disdainfully. “The fevered imaginings of a desperate man. What proof have you of this?”
Haurchefant pointed to the two guards who threatened me and Hourlinet. “Ask your men there.”
Both of them stared at the silver haired lord for a moment, then started to step back.
Guillaime turned to them, and if I hadn't been so busy trying to look three ways at once, I would have sworn that he nodded to the two men in some kind of signal.
But just as I wondered if I'd really seen such a gesture, a blood curdling screech split the air, and a thunder of wings threw a flurry of snow into my eyes.
I blinked rapidly, but by the time I'd cleared my vision, Hourlinet was already screaming in pain.
I screamed in pure rage, right back in the face of the monster that had just ravaged the man at my back. The wyvern's scream was louder and its breath stank of rotting meat.
I swung, and its snake-like neck pulled its spiny head out of the way at the last moment, leaving me to scramble for balance.
Then it snapped its head back forward, jaws clashing.
I kicked it in the teeth. “Oh, no you don't! Eat steel!”
Haurchefant roared then, and he and his five knights charged forward.
The wyvern swept its wings forward and neatly clothes-lined two of the knights; I heard tearing flesh and realized the wing-thumbs were spiked. The scaly creature hissed its pleasure as they screamed, scrambling to recover their blades.
I dove forward, under the wyvern's belly, slashing upward. It was an awkward attempt – axes not being meant for such uses – but nonetheless it made the monster howl and focus on me, hopping and flapping as it tried to bite at me even as I rolled between its feet.
I completed the move and rolled to my feet. I spun around, just in time to see the wyvern opening its mouth and fire blossoming in its throat.
“Shit!”
I threw myself to the side, and felt the flames scorch my left side. I landed hard, grunting in pain as rocks bit into my leg and side.
But I scrambled back up on my feet and bellowed a challenge at the creature. “Bring it!”
It snapped its jaws and hissed, and stomped forward two steps.
Then it shrieked, its neck stretching as it pointed its head to the sky, and it whipped its tail – or what was left of it. The severed end of the tail flopped in the snow, spraying blood. The wyvern struck with a wing, and one of Haurchefant's knights went sailing into the rocks, slamming into them and sliding down, stunned.
The creature shrieked again, eyes glowing, and readied another burst of fire. Haurchefant took a stance directly in front of the creature and raised his shield.
The wyvern's eyes focused on him, and opened its mouth wide. It spewed fire – not five feet away from Haurchefant – but the flames splashed against the shield, rendered harmless. Not even a tendril made it past.
I took advantage of the moment of distraction, and stepped in. Raising my axe in both hands, I chopped down with everything I had. My blade sank deep into the wyvern's neck.
It tried to scream again, but I had cut through much of its throat, and blood flowed out as if from a fountain, gargling. The creature staggered, and swiped with its wings one more time, before toppling over and expiring.
I pulled my axe loose, and wiped it clean on a patch of snow.
Haurchefant nodded to me, and turned back to the inquisitor – who stood like a statue, absolutely unfazed by the bloody corpse not ten feet from him, nor any of the other carnage.
Haurchefant stooped, and grabbed something from the hand of the dead guard – another of those odd rosaries. He threw the item at the inquisitor's feet.
“A heretic in the ranks of the Temple Knights. This has grave implications...” Guillaime bowed his head, eyes closed for one moment. Then he opened them and looked at Haurchefant. “Your claims...would appear to have merit, Lord Haurchefant. I shall withdraw my charges against Lord Francel, pending further investigation.” Then he turned his cold gaze to me. “I trust you have not lost sight of that which first brought you to Coerthas, Berylla. Pray locate your errant airship...and use it.”
I heard the venom in his voice, and gave him a sharp, feral smile in return. “Nothing would please me more, my lord inquisitor,” I said with deadly sweetness. I itched to punch him. But I contained myself, and stepped back, letting Lord Haurchefant do his job.
Stiff courtesies were exchanged, and the living were seen to. Francel stepped over to me, and I nodded to him. “Thank you,” he murmured. I just nodded again.
Haurchefant came over, having made certain his men had things well in hand. Francel bowed deeply to him. “Lord Haurchefant, I have not the words to express my gratitude. But why would you risk your reputation to save mine?”
Haurchefant shook his head. “Because I know you, boy. You're too loyal to betray Ishgard, and too devout to question your sentence. Had we been any slower, you'd have jumped of your own free will.”
Francel colored. “I...I would have done whatever it took to redeem House Haillenarte.”
Haurchefant looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. “Praise Halone it did not come to that. But it profits us little to dwell on what might have been.” He gestured courteously to the younger lord. “Let us quit this place, and get back to Camp Dragonhead.”
As we walked towards the road, Haurchefant let his steps lag behind, so that he and I were just out of earshot of the rest. The wind seemed to finally be dying down a little.
“I must thank you, Berylla,” he told me quietly. “And, may I say what a pleasure it was to fight alongside such a fearless and skillful warrior.”
I shrugged. “Just doin' the job,” I said lightly. He glanced at me, and I half smiled. “I was glad to be able to help. He seems like a good fellow, and he surely didn't deserve such ridiculous treatment.” I rubbed at the side of my nose.
“If you don't mind my asking...”
“Hm?” Haurchefant raised his silver eyebrows.
“What's that inquisitor's problem? He seems very...” I shrugged one shoulder.
“Most of the inquisitors of the Holy See are quite passionate about their calling,” Haurchefant answered. I looked over at him, and caught him giving me a faintly disappointed look.
“Well, forgive me if I seem rude, but he's a very passionate jerk.”
Haurchefant rubbed his lips, and didn't answer. But the merry glint had returned to his eyes, and that made me feel a little better about this whole messy business.
“I guess all is well that ends well, yeah?” I offered.
“Indeed.” Haurchefant nodded. “Please, take advantage of our hospitality back at the camp. When you feel rested, come and speak with me again.”
“Will do,” I nodded. Then we had reached the road, and the others. Joy whistled to me, and clacked her beak. I laughed a little, and gave her a quick scratch under her chin feathers. She wasn't completely mollified, but she stood for me as I mounted. When we turned back towards the camp – and a warm stable – her mood improved quite a bit more. I chuckled as she picked up her pace without my asking.
I did take advantage of the camp's facilities – most particularly the unusual but very welcome hot springs. The women-knights of the camp were more than happy to share their space and their stories as we relaxed in the steam.
“This is really quite clever,” I commented, looking around the simple wooden “room” that allowed for a touch of privacy and also neatly contained a portion of the heat.
“The men prefer the open air,” said one ice-blond lady, as she re-braided her damp hair. “But then again, they're idiots.”
“They like proving they won't shrink in the cold,” suggested another, and we all laughed.
Getting the blood off of me, and letting the hot water soak my bruises, did wonders for my energy. By the time I got out and got dressed again, I was starving, but not weary.
I packed away the filthy clothes I had had on, frowning a little. Another tunic ruined. I was just glad no one had commented on the burn mark. I wasn't about to whittle down the camp's medical supplies. Not when I knew good and damn well that in twenty hours or so, I would be completely fine. But I didn't want to parade that around, either.
The food wasn't anything to write home about – mostly some form of vegetable soup and some decent bread. But it was hot, and there was no shortage, and there was a hot drink as well. Like tea, but spicy somehow. It was tasty, and warmed me right to my toes.
Thus refreshed, I made a brief stop by the infirmary. Hourlinet sat on the edge of a bunk, waiting patiently as his arm was stitched up by a petite young lady in an apron and simple gown. His leg was already bandaged, and I winced a little seeing that it was in a splint.
“Ah, the hero of the afternoon,” he greeted me. His words were a little slurred, and as I came near, he raised a mug and drank from it. I could smell the brandy from where I stood.
“I should think you deserve as much honor as I do,” I said quietly. “How bad is it?”
“Oh, hardly a scratch,” he told me with a sunny smile. “Nellie here took care of it.”
The nurse beside him, obviously Nellie, snorted softly.
“It's a bite wound,” she said, speaking as if to the careful stitches she was making in his arm. “It's more than a scratch. But, it will heal quickly and well.” She glanced at me, then back at her work, and half smiled. “This one at least will stay in bed until we let him up.”
“Oh?” I chuckled a little. “That must be a mercy.”
“Oh yes.” She bit the thread off, and Hourlinet grunted a little. His eyes were getting glassy.
Nellie bound up his arm, and Hourlinet finished off the mug. He handed it to the nurse, and as she guided him to lie down, tried to give her a rather sloppy kiss on the cheek. Nellie dodged it neatly, with the patient look of someone who was used to such displays.
Then she stood up, and gathered up the things she had been using. Before she had even stepped away from the bed, Hourlinet was snoring.
I stepped back toward the door, then paused. “The others?”
“They're either already treated and sleeping, or...” She shook her head. “Well, Lord Haurchefant should be in bed, but he's not, as usual. Off with you. I'll make sure they know that the hero looked in on them.”
I gave her a small bow. “Thank you.”
She waved me away, but she looked pleased.
I made my way over to the main hall, then. Haurchefant was, indeed, sitting on the edge of his desk. He had taken off his mail and gambeson, and was wearing a sleeveless tunic; a bandage covered the upper part of his shield arm. I tried not to notice the way his muscles looked in the firelight.
I stepped over to him, and he nodded at me. He handed a paper to his second in command and waved her off. “Ah, you look quite recuperated,” he said, with the smile I'd gotten used to.
I smiled back, and then couldn't help looking at his wounded arm and grimacing a little.
“It's a bone bruise and a bit of a burned spot,” he told me, almost laughing. “Our healer makes a quite effective poultice for just such injuries. I never stay in the infirmary when there's work to be done.”
“What work? Seems like this is a time for rest.”
“There's always work.” He swiped at his hair a little, getting it out of his eyes. “This camp is responsible for patrolling quite a large area, and we coordinate with Whitebrim, to the west. If it isn't the local wildlife, it's Dravanians, and when it isn't the dragons, it's heretics.”
“Surely you sleep once in a while?” I asked mildly.
His eyes gleamed a little. “Once in a while.” Then he glanced down at my arm, and frowned slightly. “Did you not stop at the infirmary yourself?”
“Hm?” I followed his gaze and realized that my arm was exposed. Damn.
“It's nothing,” I began, but he reached out and tugged on my wrist.
The touch of his fingers on my skin distracted me, and I let him extend my arm instead of pulling away.
“That's quite a burn.”
I looked at it, and blinked. The burn looked much worse in the relative brightness of the firelight here, than it had in the steam house. It extended the full length of the upper part of my arm. I tried to pull my arm back, but Haurchefant held my hand firmly, and looked me in the eye.
“You should get a poultice yourself, Berylla.” His thumb rubbed against my wrist.
I shook my head. My heart was beating quicker. I couldn't seem to get my brain to string two words together, for a moment. “I'll be fine by morning,” I managed.
“My lord Haurchefant?”
He let me go, and I took a half step back, turning half toward the fire so I had a moment to compose myself. What the hell? I fussed at my own body. This is no time to get horny. Now stop it.
Behind me, I heard soft murmurs, and then Haurchefant cleared his throat. I looked over my shoulder, and then turned to face him.
“You recall that witness I mentioned? The one who saw the airship land, those years ago?”
I nodded.
“He's arrived, and is ready to speak with you outside.”
“Oh.” I tucked a stray hair back behind my ear, and nodded once. “Thank you. I'll go, uh, talk to him.”
“Let me know what you learn,” he called after me as I walked to the door.
Outside, a tall, skinny fellow in the signature purple robe and pointed hat of the Observatorium stood fidgeting near a brazier. He gazed at me through half-moon spectacles and said, in a remarkably deep voice, “Berylla, I presume?”
“Yes. I'm told you may have some information for me?”
“Yes.” His long fingers clutched possessively at a tome bound in red cloth. “I would prefer to get this over with quickly. I'm retired, and would prefer to get back to my usual routine.”
“I understand,” I nodded. “Please tell me whatever you can.”
“According to my calculations,” he pushed his glasses up on his nose with one finger, “the airship I saw five years ago has to have landed not far from the Stone Vigil. An unfortunate turn of events; it means that the garrison almost certainly seized the vessel and brought it within their walls. If so, then you would need an army of knights to have any hope of securing it.”
He seemed to look me up and down for a second. “Though Lord Haurchefant is, from all indications, quite fond of you. Perhaps he can lend you a few?”
Before I could articulate a response to that astonishing comment, he tugged at the brim of his hat. “In any case, I have done my part. I shall pray for your success, miss Berylla.” And without waiting even for me to thank him, he turned around and walked off toward the south gate.
I watched him until he vanished among a knot of folks, and then turned back to the main hall. I gazed at the carved doors for a moment, pondering. Lord Haurchefant is fond of me, is he? Why would anyone think that?