#Reah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

niennandil-me-writes · 2 months

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[Commission for @sev-arts. All proceeds go to the Queer Vienna Mutual Aid Fund. This story takes place between chapters 6 and 7 of her comic Souls Foreclosed.]

Content Notes: misgendering, deadnaming, lots of slurs, transphobia in general (canon-accurate), dismemberment, fascism, spoilers for Souls Foreclosed

Tabitha felt Reah shift in her saddle as they looked down on the small village that would be better described as a hamlet, or perhaps a collection of wooden planks that happened to form something vaguely resembling huts. She wasn’t sure whether it had been built up by the refugees that were huddling around the train tracks, or whether it had once housed people and had now been chosen for its proximity to said tracks as a meeting point.

Reah’s disquiet went over to the horse, which started whinnying and throwing its head around. Tabitha held on tighter to her butch. “Everything alright up there?”

Reah had gotten more and more quiet on their journey here, which the Sorceress would have described as uncharacteristic, had she not been like this for a while now. Things had changed since their capture by Savounarola. For both of them.

“Yeah, it’s about alright, madam,” said Reah. “Though I don’t know if there ain’t better uses for our time. The Red Masque seems to have this under control, and I’ve heard talks of raids in parts close to these.” The last part was muttered more than uttered, and made Tabitha cling on more tightly, unsure if she was trying to give comfort to the Revenant or hold her in place like an attack dog about to pounce.

“We’re going to need you here,” said Astor. The sharpshoot was sitting on his own horse, smoking a cigarette from his seemingly endless supply. “Or rather, these people will. Traveling by train is a risky matter, even when the tracks are long in disuse, and nobody is expecting us. But it’s the safest way for these refugees. Most of them are no fighters, many of them disabled or old or families with children.”

“Well, it’s something different from all the supply runs we’re sent on,” said Reah, but her heart didn’t seem in it.

“Will the tracks be any problem?” asked Tabitha, watching the refugees load their belongings on the train, and the Red Masque militia check all the wagons one last time for stowaways and other unwelcome surprises. The train itself looked almost worse for wear than the tracks. Tabitha could imagine that it hadn’t even been stolen but rather taken over after nobody else wanted to have it anymore. “The last train ride Reah and I took… didn’t go so well.” Her brief smirk faltered on her face at the lack of reaction from her companion.

“According to Madam Spitfire they should lead us uninterrupted to our safe zone,” explained Astor. “Though they seem in such a bad condition that we’ll be reduced to a snail’s pace at times, and let’s hope it’s only a few times. That is precisely why we are needed. Too many chances of being spotted or waylaid. Though at least there should be no troops coming through.”

“Yes, I get it, it’s another escort mission.” There was that new bite in Reah’s voice, and Tabitha almost spoke up, but at that moment the Red Masque agents by the train gave the sign that all was clear, and they started on their voyage.

It was a rather calm, if very slow, journey, no signs of tyranny or evil ahead, and no holdups except when they had to halt for half an hour at a tree that had fallen across the tracks, which Reah picked up and threw wayside. Still, it was almost evening, the sun nearing the horizon, when Tabitha finally raised her voice: “It almost looks like we have an easy job for once.”

“Well, now you done jinxed it.” It was supposed to be a joke, but Reah’s voice didn’t really do jokes right now.

“Sorry about that, choir girl.” She nuzzled the well-worn nickname into the shoulder of Reah’s vest. “But then again, that’s not what you want, is it?”

“Wha -?” Now she sounded actually surprised, and she was cute when she sounded surprised, showing off that herbo side of hers.

“You’d rather be hunting her, right? Lourdes.” She needn’t have added the name because as soon as she spoke the first sentence, Reah gritted her teeth so hard it made Tabitha’s mouth ache.

“She got my hand, Tabitha. And she’s hurting people with it. Committing atrocities. Killing innocents.” She didn’t look back, but Tabitha could feel the darkness in her face. She wanted to hold it between her hands and kiss her choir girl’s sorrows away. If only it were that easy. If only Tabitha were young and naïve enough to give back some of that young naivete her butch had lost.

“We’re already doing all we can,” she said instead, trying reason instead of whimsy. “We’re helping people, kicking tyrants’ asses. But you need to rest to do that.” She held on tight and murmured these words into Reah’s pointed ears. “Truly rest. When’s the last time you slept a whole night? Or took a day off? Even Spitfire sleeps sometimes, or so I’ve heard.”

For a while, Reah said nothing, and Tabitha thought she’d shut down and wanted to drop the subject, when she heard her mutter something that sounded a bit like I can rest when I have my hand back.

“What’s that?” asked Tabitha. And even as she thought Reah would not answer again, the Revenant sat up straighter in the saddle.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, “to see your own hand raised against the innocent.”

And that stung in a way Tabitha didn’t understand or refused to understand. She shoved those feelings deep down and said: “That’s not your fault. Neither the losing the arm part, nor what’s done with it.”

“I can’t help it…” She trailed off and fell silent for a while longer. “She was there, you know? I remember now. She was among the inquisitors who…”

“You want revenge.”

To Tabitha’s surprise, Reah shook her head immediately. “Not that. I want… I don’t know… Absolution?”

“I don’t think that’s the word you’re looking for.” And hell, why did that word itch at the feelings she just got done burying?

“It don’t make sense, I know that,” said the Revenant. “But it feels unfair, y’know? That I was the only one survived. That I survived and couldn’t help the others. I ain’t better than they are, or were. Just got lucky with my vigorous blood.”

“Survivor’s guilt, choir girl? Really? That hardly suits you.” The words were out before she could stop herself.

For a few moments, nobody talked. And then:

“Can we just… can we ride in silence for a while?”

“Yes… I suppose we can do that.”

They rode on next to the stuttering train, dragging long shadows behind them, until those disappeared in darkness.

Stopping for the night would have been tempting an already fragile fate, and so the train kept rumbling along the tracks. They took turns keeping watch. Right now, Tabitha was sleeping in a private compartment that she had picked out for the two of them, while Reah was riding with the others alongside the train.

Still much too quiet for Reah’s taste. Tabitha had been right, she was on edge, and she wished she could change that, but she couldn’t let go of that single-mindedness that had befallen her. She didn’t want to – couldn’t – let anyone get hurt. Not again.

Maybe Tabitha was right with what she had said of “survivor’s guilt”. Guilt was one thing the church dealt with in abundance, even those branches that were more open-minded. It wasn’t coincidence that it had been her Mother Confessor who had set Reah on her path.

She wished she could be more like the Sorceress: Freed from her past. Driven by revenge instead of weighed down by guilt. Maybe she could be that, now that she had motivation. Her arm stump ached under the prosthesis when she thought of that madwoman and what she might be doing to innocent people at this very moment, with nobody there to stop her. It hurt like hell.

It hurt more than usual, in fact, a searing cold echo of that soul-rending bite that had cost her the arm in the first place. Reah was torn out of her contemplation to realize: This was more than phantom pain. This was a sign.

Throwing her head around, she searched for attackers, but the night was as calm and still as before, the only sounds coming from the train and the hushed voices of the Red Masque guards. And still, Reah was absolutely sure.

“She’s here!”

“What did you see?” called Astor from a few feet away. “Who’s here?”

But Reah didn’t answer, was already guiding her horse towards the train. No time to stop train or horse, she jumped from the saddle, right arm outstretched towards the closest door. Her hand grasped the cool metal of the handle, the door flew open, and for a moment Reah was dragged behind the train, feet scrambling over the rocky ground. Then she found her bearings and managed to clamber inside the wagon.

“Everyone stay in your compartments, we’re under attack!” she yelled, though there was little need because the train was ringing with noises of fight and sorcery, coming from up ahead, and all the doors with intact locks were shut tight from within as Reah ran past them.

The door to the conductor’s compartment stood wide open, and this was where the action was taking place. At the moment, it was just Tabitha, her fingers tracing powerful sigils into the air, against three opponents: Two men who Reah didn’t recognize, and a woman whose face, twisted by madness and obsession, she knew all too well. Lourdes had Reah’s hand raised and was about to attack Tabitha.

Though Reah had no doubt that the Sorceress could defend herself, she found herself overtaken by rage and stormed forward, head lowered, to tackle the madwoman away from Tabitha and ram her horns into her side. Her voice was a growl as she screamed: “Hands off my femme!”

For only a second, Tabitha shot a gentle grateful smile towards her, before she returned her focus to her sorcery to keep the other two attackers in check. “They must have put that tree on the tracks and hidden, using our forced stop to board unseen,” she explained quickly. “And then hidden on the train until they found an opportune moment to attack.”

Only now did Reah notice that all three adversaries wore clothes in grey and brown colors, which would have helped them hide in the dirt of the road, maybe even directly on the tracks in front of the tree. Stupid and reckless yet again, Reah, she berated herself.

"I see you have a new arm.” A smile tore itself over Lourdes’ features as she pointed her chin at the wooden contraption pinning her against the wall, begging to be punched out of her face, which Reah did gladly.

“Wanted to say the same thing, though this one’s hardly yours.” She didn’t dare turn from Lourdes, who was already wrestling herself out of her grip, as she yelled over to Tabitha: “Is that all of them?”

“All within the train, though I assume they have reinforcements coming, now that we’re hit where it hurts.”

And indeed, there were shots fired outside, and even from atop the train roof. Hopefully from their own people.

“It must be a case of déjà-vu for you,” spoke Lourdes. “Once again, you are present to witness the eradication of your fellow degenerates. Must sting, eh, Sa-“

Reah interrupted her with another punch, then got Lourdes’ – no, her own! – fist in the stomach. Then a bullet burrowed itself in her mechanical arm for good measure.

“Sorry, that one got past me!” called Tabitha, and to prevent it from happening again, trapped the shooter between two sigils and threw him out the window, which was not open at that moment, but did relent to the Sorceress’ magic with a loud shattering sound.

Just a moment later, a familiar voice came through the same window: “Ladies, I think we got a problem up ahead.”

Neither Reah nor Tabitha asked how Astor had gotten onto the roof of the train, both just happy to have the sharpshoot in a tactical position.

“Just one?” asked Reah, now entangled in a fight with the Knight Inquisitor.

“We’re off track!”, called Astor, before his head disappeared again from the window, and more shots rang out from the roof.

“What the fuck do you mean off track?” yelled Tabitha. “We’re on a train, in case you haven’t noticed!"

Astor reappeared. “Yes. And right now, we happen to be on the wrong track. We’re back on the main line, heading North instead of South!”

Lourdes gave out a bellowing laugh. “And your next stop is right at a Norran checkpoint!” She ducked under Reah’s next punch and spit blood on the floor. “Which will be - how do you say? - the end of the line for you depraved sodomites and your heretical friends.”

“I’ll stop the train!” screamed Tabitha and reached for the brake.

“Don’t!” yelled Astor. “They got more reinforcements coming! If we stop, we lose what little advantage we have.”

“Well, what the hell are we supposed to – “ At that moment, the remaining male fighter’s fist cracked into her skull. She kicked him against the furnace with a “Don’t touch me, you pig!”

“There’s a turnout up ahead that should bring us back on track!” Astor called down. “But our folk are all engaged or wounded right now.”

“Is it visible from the window?” asked Tabitha.

“Yeah.”

“Then I can get at it!” She leaned out the broken window and searched the area until she found the turnout and the lever that controlled it. It was hard to see in the dark, and she didn’t have much time, so she’d need all her focus.

Meanwhile Reah had to use all her strength to keep Lourdes engaged and away from Tabitha. Reah was a beast in battle, but the other woman fought like a starved rabid dog on steroids. The blood in her mouth was not just her own. There was a madness behind her eyes that would have (and had) scared the bravest person.

“All those gifts bestowed upon you by the Lord,” she barked. “Squandered on a sodomite! You should have succumbed to the Brand and made yourself useful to the Church in that way at least.”

“Shut up and give me back my arm!” screamed Reah because she was all out of wit. Her mechanical arm was gripped around the stolen one like a vise, tearing and ripping. A kick in her stomach drove the breath from her for a moment, and forced her to let go.

“You know what I did to your perverted brothers,” spoke Lourdes. “But did you know that it was myself who conducted the confession of the heretical “nun” who set you on that path of sin? It took some convincing to make her see reason, but she ended up singing like a bird.”

Reah roared and threw herself at Lourdes.

“Don’t let her distract you!” screamed Tabitha.

And indeed, Reah had completely forgotten the other man who, despite the heavy burns on his back, was still in the compartment, and that he still had his gun, and posed a threat to the Sorceress and her focus. Tabitha managed to redirect a bullet, but couldn’t keep the man from gripping her hair and pulling her away from the window.

The pain in her scalp and from the sheer indignity of it all was nothing compared to the ice-cold sting of his words, delivered in an unmistakable Tyvian accent: “Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Karthosian. Almost didn’t recognise you in that faggy getup. Guess I don’t have to call you sir anymore.”

And yes, suddenly she did recognize the man, now that she imagined him in Tyvian uniform, and that image brought back memories she’d rather have buried, memories of a life she’d abandoned for good reason.

“I said don’t fucking touch me!” she screeched, composure forgotten, and backhanded him across the face.

He retreated and lifted his gun, which she kicked out of his hands. And he chuckled. Damn, why did he chuckle? She liked them scared much more.

“Hard to believe that you used to hunt down degenerates, just to become one yourself.” He spit at her. “How low one can sink.”

This coming from a man who was about to rise in the ranks in Tyvia, and now earns his money as a mercenary in Norra! Why wasn’t she saying that? Where was her bite?

“You won’t remember my first mission under you, but I do,” he continued for some reason. “Priscilla he called himself in the streets. Whore of a fag that ever was. And how he screamed.”

This time it didn’t sting. It snapped. Sorcery not meticulously constructed but scribbled down in angry letters forming hateful words connecting to sentences full of rage, all directed at that singular sorry excuse of a human being. A body rendered apart, ripped to shreds and covering floor and walls and ceiling in viscera.

“Tabitha, the turnout!” screamed a distant voice from just up ahead.

“Madam Sorceress!” called Reah. “Don’t worry, I got this. You do your thing!”

Tabitha couldn’t tell if that was the truth. She was trembling. Needed all her strength to regain a semblance of composure. The turnout. The window. Right.

The lever was much closer now. Almost too close. She maybe had one minute left. Breathe. Focus, Tabitha. You’re the goddamn Sorceress!

Twenty seconds. Don’t think of Reah fighting Godfrey’s attack dog. Don’t think of the man. Don’t think of Priscilla. Don’t think. Don’t.

Ten seconds.

Do!

Her hands and mind and sorcery reached out. The lever moved and the turnout soon followed, redirecting the train at the last moment. To safety, hopefully.

The gunshots outside had decreased in quantity, which Tabitha took as a good sign, as she could still hear Astor on the roof, and knew he wouldn’t stop firing until all attackers were driven off.

“Well, this didn’t go quite according to plan,” said Lourdes, and seemed less upset than she should be. She threw Reah to the floor. “I must bid you adieu for now, gentlemen, but I assure you: We will meet again.” Before anyone could stop her, she had jumped out the window. Shots rang after her, but judging by Astor’s swears, none hit.

Exhausted, Reah and Tabitha fell into each other’s arms. For a moment, they were content just breathing.

“What the hell was that, Madam Witch?” Astor climbed inside through the window.

“I saved our lives.” Tabitha let go of Reah and crossed her arms. “You’re welcome.”

“You got distracted,” said Astor. “Which in turn got Reah distracted.”

“Wasn’t her fault.” Reah rubbed her neck and looked away in embarrassment. “Lourdes got the upper hand.”

“Would you spare us your Spitfire impression and get back to your job?” Tabitha said to Astor. “I doubt we’re out of danger yet.”

“They’re following their leader,” explained Astor. “Which means fleeing right now.” He furrowed his brow, as if he regretted his sharp words. “Maybe you should rest for a while. Leave the watch to us.”

Reah wanted to protest, but Tabitha put a hand on her arm. They exchanged glances. Reah nodded, and they retreated to the compartment Tabitha had selected.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Of course that would be the first thing Reah said. Tabitha suppressed a sigh. “But do I have to?”

“You don’t have to…”

“But?”

“But I think you should.”

“Wild coming from someone who’s closed herself off for the past weeks.” It came out more aggressive than intended. But that was just in her nature. She had learned to lash out rather than show vulnerability. She hated what it did to Reah. Seeing that hurt around her eyes.

Tabitha let out the sigh from before. “Listen, it’s not like with you. You don’t deserve these feelings of guilt.”

“So it’s guilt?” Reah tilted her head.

Tabitha gritted her teeth. “You know what I did. What I did before Lucy happened.”

“Only some of it,” said Reah hesitantly. “But you did it to survive.”

It sounded so familiar, an echo of the things she kept telling herself. “Others didn’t because of me.”

Reah shifted in her seat. “If it’s not comfort you want, then how about a confession?”

Tabitha turned in surprise. “Can you do that, as a nun? No, scratch that. I don’t want to know. I’m not doing that. I’m not seeking absolution from a god who has forsaken you – your words, not mine! And I doubt Lucy would be happy if you did that in their name.”

“It don’t have to be formal or anything,” said Reah. “I often just talked to my Mother Confessor about things that troubled me at the time.”

Tabitha bit her lip as she remembered Lourdes’ words. Why did everything have to be so… awkward?

“Fine.” She faced the window, looked out into the night as she released words that had burned into her soul ages ago. “I’m not asking for forgiveness for the things I did. It’s nothing I can demand of the people I hurt. Sometimes those people looked up to me. I wasn’t the only one who had a day job like that. But I was the most… successful? Useful to the wrong people. I don’t know if I’d do it again. If I’d be stronger, even without a gift from Satan. I stabbed lots of people in the back, hunted people who just tried to make the world a better place. But most of them were already on a list. I didn’t track them down, I just helped capture them. If I didn’t, someone else would have.”

“And Priscilla?”

Tabitha hesitated. “Priscilla was…” Naïve. Careless. Stupid. A liability. Innocent.

“…different. In that regard. I met her in Chez Cabaret, and she immediately set off my alarm bells. She was a good girl, but she lived in the world as it ought to be, not as it is. And I knew she was gonna get many people killed. People who had been careful to protect themselves and each other, which she wasn’t. I kept telling myself she would have been caught a while later anyway, and that she would have taken others down with her. She was my sacrificial lamb.”

Tabitha’s nails burrowed in the wood beneath the train window, her eyes locked ahead, but not seeing. The train rumbled on.

“Gosh, Tabs… I’m so sorry.”

Tabitha didn’t know what she had expected. Anger? Hatred? Disgust? Maybe she did want to be hated, just a bit. Being hated was so much easier to ignore than hating yourself.

“I would do it again,” she said, like she wanted to provoke a response.

But that was not Reah.

“You were trying to protect others.”

Why did understanding hurt more than contempt?

“I was trying to protect myself.”

Tabitha heard Reah rise from her seat behind her, and then she felt a strong arm around her, holding her so gently and protectively as only the Revenant could. How could she be so strong and yet so tender? How did she never lose that softness, no matter what she did or saw?

“You’re right that I can’t give you other people’s forgiveness.” Reah’s voice was a warm whisper at her neck. “But I’ll never judge you for it. You’re doing good now, and that’s what matters, as far as I am concerned, and I know enough people as would agree.” She hesitated. “It’s not our fault that the world is as it is. We can only try our best to change it. You should never have been forced to make those choices.” And then, maybe because she sensed that none of her words could change the way Tabitha felt, she pressed gentle kisses into the nape of her neck, trying distraction instead.

Tabitha freed herself from the embrace, firmly but gently, and turned to face Reah. “I think I need to be alone for a moment, love.” And fearing those words might break the Revenant’s heart, she took her hand and raised it up to her lips to kiss it, a promise of some kind. Then she left the compartment.

The train corridor was dark and quiet. Most of the passengers were sleeping. One or two doors had hushed voices coming from behind them.

When Tabitha leaned her head against the window, the glass did not show the face she had expected to see there.

“When I said I want to be alone, I certainly didn’t want you to join in,” she hissed.

“Really?” asked Lucifer, the God of Chances, known by many names across many cultures, who was currently replacing Tabitha’s reflection in the dirty train window. “Because we had the feeling that you had many questions burning on your soul that we would be fit to answer.”

Tabitha considered shooting back a biting remark but thought better of it. “Why did you choose me?”

“You had many talents and skills in the areas of sorcery,” said Lucifer matter-of-factly. “Which were useful to us and our cause.”

“You could have found someone else.”

“Don’t self-deprecate, Sorceress, it does not suit you.”

“After everything I did…” Tabitha faltered.

“We offered you absolution.”

“But was that a reason, or was it a lure?” Tabitha demanded to know. “Why me? Why Reah, for that matter? Because if this is punishment, then she doesn’t deserve it. And if it is a reward, I sure as hell don’t deserve it!”

Lucifer crossed their arms. “Sin, guilt, absolution… Those are all concepts the Church uses to keep its followers obedient and in line. The reason we chose you is that we saw potential and wanted to award it an opportunity. We don’t deal in punishment or reward. We deal in chances.”

And with those words, Lucifer vanished, replaced again by the face of Tabitha, which looked dangerously close to tears.

I don’t deserve her, right?

She didn’t voice the question that she would never raise to anyone. Not to her comrades, not to Lucy, and definitely not to Reah. Whatever the answer would be, and whether it would be honesty or gentle lies, she didn’t want to hear it. But she could see the question clearly in her face, and her own answer forever stuck on the tip of her lips.

Behind that face in the window, the night slowly faded into a pale day. The train rolled over hills and through forests, taking its passengers to that hopefully safe quasi no man’s land that Spitfire had chosen as their destination, and the agents of the Red Masque along with the Revenant and the Sorceress to their next mission.

“Up early?”

The Sorceress pushed herself away from the glass, standing up straight to meet the eyes of Astor, who she hadn’t noticed entering the corridor.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all she said in response. “How about you?”

“The roommates wouldn’t let me smoke in the compartment,” said Astor, fishing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

Tabitha pulled down the window, letting the smoke drift outside. In exchange, chill morning air blew in their faces, carrying memories of the night. A Red Masque rode by and threw them a lax salute as they spotted them.

“So about yesterday…” began Astor after many moments of silence.

Tabitha moaned in annoyance. “Really? Is it that impossible to catch some quiet on here? I’d rather not talk about this again… again.”

Astor threw his hands up in defeat. “Didn’t mean to pry. Just wanted to offer some understanding. I get it, you know. Past haunting you. People you could have saved. People you hurt.”

Tabitha jerked up, muscles tensing. “You listened in on us?!” Her hands were balled into fists, tail standing on edge, and she had a mind to deliver a fierce kick in his cunt and then leave.

“Easy there, Miss Sorceress,” said Astor. “I didn’t, as a matter of fact. Just happened to be there yesterday, and I’m capable of putting two and two together.” He blew smoke out the window. “You can’t be a soldier without leaving some dead bodies in your wake.”

“You’re a deserter, though.”

“Ain’t we both?”

“I like to think of myself as a saboteur who took her time.”

“So did I,” said Astor. “Already crossed the line twice before I decided to put a stop to it. I don’t feel bad ‘bout the soldiers I killed, even those who had doubts like me. I wouldn’t have blamed anyone for killing me, either. But there’s lots of innocent blood on my hands.” With these words, he flicked the cigarette butt out the window, like he could get rid of his guilt with the same gesture.

Tabitha pretended to study her own fingernails. She didn’t talk much with Astor, an emotional distance that was mutually agreed upon, but just for a moment she wished she could open up more to him. A shudder went down her spine at that thought. Hell, it had cost her all her willpower to start showing vulnerability with the Revenant.

“I actually wanted to introduce you to someone,” said Astor, seemingly out of nowhere.

Tabitha furrowed her brow. “Who? Some Red Masque rookie?”

“No, she actually asked me to talk to you for her.” Astor went down the corridor.

The Sorceress hesitated and then followed him to the wooden door of one of the compartments. Astor knocked, and when the door opened an inch, he asked: “Is Lizzie awake yet?”

Lizzie turned out to be a small child, probably around 12, in an orange knit-sweater and a pink skirt. The child seemed nervous, looking down at the floor, arms folded behind the back.

“That’s Lizzie,” said Astor. “She really wanted to see you.”

Tabitha was unsure what she should do now, what Astor or the child expected of her. She wasn’t good with kids, especially those she didn’t know.

Finally, Lizzie built up some courage and looked up at Tabitha out of big eyes. “You are the Sorceress, right? The one who protected us.”

Tabitha nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll have a safe travel from now on,” she said, and then wondered if it was okay to lie to children, even if it was just a half-lie, and meant to calm them down.

“You’re a lady, right!”

The Sorceress was about to force herself to calm down, it was just an ignorant child after all, when she realized it had not been a question at all, and she understood why Astor had brought her to this girl.

“Yes, I am.” Her voice was now more confident, she noticed, and warmer as well. “My name is Tabitha Wylde.”

The girl’s eyes seemed to shine with awe. “Your voice is deeper than I’ve ever heard from a woman, even deeper than my grandma’s. It’s a really pretty voice, though! I’ve never heard such a pretty voice.” The words tumbled out of Lizzie’s mouth almost faster than she could form them. “My Da says that my voice will break soon. I used to be scared of that. One of the reasons we’re on the way. That and because of my Da’s and Ma’s boyfriend! But now I’m not so scared anymore. Maybe I will sound like you?” Suddenly embarrassed, she looked down again.

Tabitha hunched down next to the girl, and gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Lizzie, if you want, I can put a seal on your arm that will prevent some of the effects of puberty.” Did kids that age know words like puberty? “Your voice won’t change, and some other changes will be stopped as well. You would be able to remove it whenever you wanted, or if you found someone who could help you change your body in ways you wanted.”

Lizzie bit her lip, now even more embarrassed and awestruck. “I- I’ll think about it, Tab- Miss Wylde, Madam Sorceress… Ma’am. But if I could have a voice like yours, I would be so happy!”

“Maybe you will.” With lots of dedication, voice training and singing lessons, she thought but didn’t say. “Just let me know if you decide to take up my offer before we arrive, alright?”

The girl nodded, turned around, then turned back to her to give a little courtesy, before disappearing back into her family’s compartment.

When she was gone, Tabitha addressed Astor: “Did this have any reason besides handing out puberty-blocking sorcery?”

“The Red Masque might see y’all as nothing but muscle and magic, and Lucy probably does as well,” said Astor and lit another cigarette. “Thought you’d appreciate seeing some counterexamples. You are fighters and protectors, but not just as war machines. You give people hope.” He took a long drag, then continued with a smirk: “Including me, by the by. One of the people on this train is a doctor who recently lost their license.” He drew his thumb in a cut-off motion over his chest to explain the reason for the lost license and the need of the doctor to relocate their office.

Tabitha realized that for the first time today, she was smiling. The unspilt tears were still there, somewhere in that face, but she was feeling a bit better now. She yawned theatrically. “I guess I’ll try to get some sleep before our shift begins,” she said, heading back to her compartment.

“You’re welcome,” Astor mumbled after her.

Reah was still half-asleep when Tabitha entered their compartment, but with just a few kisses pressed on her skin, she was all-awake.

“What are you doing?” she chuckled as Tabitha tore the clothes off her skin.

“Collecting my punishment,” said the Sorceress. “And giving you your reward.”

“Is, uhm, that some kink thing I don’t know?”

“Shut up and kiss me, choir girl!”

And she did without further argument.

Much later, when the light of the rising sun fell on their intertwined bodies relaxing against the scruffy cushions of the train seats, Reah said: “When we are done here… with this mission I mean… I think there’s something I need to do. For myself.”

When she hesitated to continue, Tabitha leaned in closer, nuzzling against the Revenant’s hairy breast. Her fingers lazily caressed her skin, following the sigils she had inscribed on her what seemed like a lifetime ago. Marks that spelled protection, but also whispered words of a bilateral I am yours.

Encouraged by Tabitha’s soothing touches, Rhea continued: “D’you think we could make a detour to my convent?”

“I’d love to accompany you,” said Tabitha.

And then they sank into the comfort of each other again.

#fanfic #my writing #commission #souls foreclosed #reah #tabitha wylde #astor gilgamache #lourdes drasille d'orvey #i had lots of fun writing this #thank you so much for your trust!#and also for the bookends i adore them #also wow first usage of my pen name

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digitalsatyr23 · 1 year

Text

What Keeps Me Going (Commission)

Setting: Arachnia Characters: Reah and Bergin Word Count: 9,088

The mist rolled in early that morning.

Bergin woke from bad dreams, as he often did. Luma, an elven woman he had offered shelter to some years prior, was already busy in the kitchen. Bergin had never asked Luma to do any chores for him, but elves, as he had learned, were something of a polite race. “It’s not proper”, she would say, “to be given so much and give nothing in return.” And so once again, Bergin didn’t have to cook breakfast.

After rolling out of bed, he stretched his old bones. Looking at a smaller bed nearby, Alli (short for Alligri) was fast asleep, a strand of her black hair curled over her nose in an amusing way. Bergin approached, brushing the hair off of her face. Though his own sleep was often poor, just knowing his daughter slept soundly every night was enough for him.

Bergin approached the kitchen table as Luma said, “I drew fresh water from the well. Help yourself.”

“Thank you,” said Bergin. He grabbed his favorite wooden mug, poured water out of a clay jug, then finally sat down at the table. “I don’t know how you can be so lively with how little you sleep. What’s your secret?”

“We don’t need much,” said Luma, her back to Bergin as she stirred a stew pot. “A few hours are all it takes. It was harder in the Winter when the sun hardly came out, but Spring suits me just fine.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a walking flower. Must be nice to get so much pep from the sun.”

Luma was a tall and slender elven woman (though she insisted that her people were called huldra) that had long blonde hair, pointed ears, bright green eyes, light skin, and a long cow tail that ended in a tuft of blonde fur. She wore a simple long-sleeved blue dress, along with a white apron and embossed leather shoes. Bergin could hardly believe she was 143 years old, given her good looks. He was 42-year-old human and his hair had already gone grey. It was a strange thing to him that the races of the world aged differently, but he didn’t think it unfair.

Maybe it’s what we eat, Bergin wondered. Beans, bread, and fried pork were staples at his dinner table. Meanwhile he had hardly seen Luma eat more than thin soup and twigs. Of course I’d die if I ate like that. Bergin continued his pondering as he took another swig of cool, clean water. When Luma finished cooking, Bergin was given a bowl of vegetable soup. It had just the right amount of salt in it to please his tongue, and the warmth helped the rest of his body wake up. He thanked Luma for the meal and then got ready for work.

“Will you be fine watching Alli?” Bergin asked. “That storm two days ago caused more damage than we thought, so I’ll be busy all day.”

“I’ll be more than happy to take care of the girl,” Luma said, bowing her head.

“Much appreciated. With luck, we won’t see another storm like that for some time, so work will be much lighter after today. Thanks for all your help.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I’ve already told you; you don’t have to call me that. We’ve known each other for far too long.”

Of course, these years must have passed you in the blink of an eye, thought Bergin.

“And I’ve already told you; you are the master of this house. It’s only proper I remember that,” said Luma. Bergin shrugged and waved goodbye, going out to the village.

Bergin and his daughter, Alli, had moved into the village of Mackmalin as part of the region of Ceranestan in the Boccovian Empire. Ceranestan was a lush landscape of rolling hills, vast plains, and few mountains. Mackmalin itself was a humble village that was southwest of Elhinvar Forest, making use of its lumber, wild vegetation, and elk to survive. Despite being far from towns, it was a peaceful place with few monster attacks. The worst Bergin had ever seen was a stray giant bat from the Myotis Plains further north, and with an Imperial fort to the east, the threats that did show themselves were always dealt with in time. The people were good-natured Gairen folk, like himself, and there was never any bad blood between his neighbors. People only threw fists down at the pub, and even then, it was water under the bridge by morning.

As Bergin made his way through the village, he was greeted by a few of his neighbors. Friendly hellos and good mornings. He knew just about everyone in the village because of his job. He liked to call himself a handyman because if it involved wood, rock, brick, or thatch, he could fix it. When people needed help with something, they came to him, for his work was swift and his wages fair. His back often hurt by the end of the day, but he was far too stubborn to give in to the pain. All he needed was a good meal and the occasional splotch of spiceberry paste on his backside, and he’d be ready for tomorrow.

The day went by quick enough, and once it was noon, Bergin took a break at home. As soon as he approached the front door, it swung open, and he was greeted by his darling daughter, Alli. She was a young girl of seven Summers with raven hair, brown eyes (like Bergin’s), and fair skin. She was wearing a faded green dress with long sleeves and a grey surcoat tied at the waist on each side, though she was still barefoot.

“Papa, Papa! You’re back!” she said, arms wide open. Bergin scooped her up and gave her a great big hug, setting her down.

“I won’t be here for long, though. There’s still lots to do,” said Bergin, closing the door behind him and sitting down.

“Aaah. But you said you’d take me berry picking in the forest!”

“I said that would be tomorrow. Just be patient.” Even as Bergin ruffled Alli’s hair, she puffed up her cheeks and grumbled.

“Okay…”

“How’s your reading coming along, by the way?”

“I still need Sissy Luma’s help with some of the words, but I’m getting better. Wanna hear me read some?”

Bergin’s tired face smiled as he said, “I think that would be lovely.”

Though she was grumbling before, Alli immediately forgot about the berry picking and scampered over to the bookshelf, grabbing a large book with both hands before setting it down on the table, climbing onto Bergin’s lap, then opening it up. It was the story of Roland the Hero and his many exploits across the seas. He was something of a folk legend that was alive about a century ago, known for defeating several monsters and making the oceans safer for travel. Bergin suspected most of his tales were exaggerated (who ties themselves to a bowsprit to fight a sea monster, anyway?), but it didn’t matter what he thought. Alli was learning the wonders of reading and Bergin wouldn’t dare intrude on her fun.

“The… B-brave Sir Roland was g-g…” Alligri paused.

“Given,” said Bergin.

“Given a m-magical sword made of corale?”

“Corral.”

“Corral by the mermaid. ‘U-use this when you fight Sc.. Sc… Sila?”

“Scylla.”

Alligri grumbled, her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” said Bergin. “Just be patient and take things one at a time.”

“But I was doing so good earlier!” complained Alligri. “Tell him, Sissy Luma! I read a whole page by myself!”

“She did indeed,” said Luma, bowing her head.

“See!”

“It’s okay, Alli. I believe you,” Bergin did his best to not chuckle. He understood his daughter’s frustrations, but at the same time, she was very cute when she was grumpy. “Hey, why don’t you read that page to me? The one you read before?”

“But… I already read it,” said Alli.

“Well I wasn’t here for that page. I’d like to hear it.”

“You do?”

“I would!” said Bergin. At this, Alli’s eyes lit up and she flipped the page over, going over the words one at a time. Sure enough, she didn’t have any trouble with the page. “I knew you could do it,” he smiled. Alli smiled, too. For a moment, everything was right with the world. Unfortunately, the moment wouldn’t last. He had to get back to work, after all.

When the reading was over, Bergin said his goodbyes and gave Alli a hug before walking out the door. He went back to helping one of the villagers fix their roof, wondering what tomorrow would bring. He imagined an idyllic day outside with wicker baskets, bushels full of berries, Alli skipping through the forest, and Claira-

Wait, no. Claira wasn’t around anymore. Bergin sighed. Despite how long she had been gone, he still thought about her every day. His wife had been dead for years, yet he often saw her in his dreams like everything was fine. Bergin shook his head and kept working. Once it was done, he called out to his neighbor.

“Tom, I’m going to pour a little water on it. Tell me if you still see a leak.”

“All right, go ahead!” said Tom from inside. Just as Bergin was pouring the water, a strange horn sounded off in the distance. He thought it was coming from the forest.

“Tom… Did you hear that?”

“What, the leak?”

“No. It sounded like-”

And that’s when the arrows fell.

---

A redhaired woman was walking through tall grassy fields. Though she dressed lightly in a mixed attire from many cultures, it was clear she was a warrior from the strange weapon on her back. It was almost evening, and the sun was blotted out by grey clouds up above. The winds were blowing freely, making grass dance in the breeze. The woman stretched, taking it all in. When next she returned home to the arid lands of Tirachna, she would miss moments such as these.

The woman was named Reah Fenae. She was an adventurer by trade, working for the Guild, a famous organization that started in Boccovia (the lands she currently tread). She stood 5’6” and had a strong, athletic body, honed from years of fighting and traveling alone. She had recently completed a job for a local branch of the Guild and on her way back, she stopped by the town of Thannigran. The town was famous for its upside-down forest growing underground. Satisfied with seeing the natural wonder, she left the town behind and made her way north. Looking at the sky, she wondered if it would rain. She had no cover, after all. But then, her strong nose picked up a familiar scent. She was certain it was blood.

Reah wasn’t sure where the scent was coming from, but as she looked around, she noticed the faintest glimmer of fire in the distance. It was a signal fire – commonly lit by villages and towns as a call for help. Reah’s instincts took hold, and she raced across the field. She was too far away to tell what was happening, but she had a cold, knotted feeling in her stomach. Whatever it was, it was bad.

After several minutes of running without rest, Reah reached the outskirts of the village. The ground and rooftops were littered with arrows, and while she could smell a foul stench nearby, she didn’t hear fighting. Then came the sound of hooves stomping across the ground. Reah took cover behind a waist-high stone wall, crouching down. As the sound grew closer, she listened. There were two creatures, and not very big at that, and their pace was casual. She heard the creatures speak in a crude tongue of snorts and squeals. Peeking around the corner of the wall, she realized they were porga – small ones at that. She was familiar with these beasts. Porga were a savage race of bipedal boar men with thick furry limbs, three-fingered hands, hoofed legs, tough hides, and tails ending in tufts of dark fur. These smaller ones were called pyhgoars, typically white of fur, with large tusks, standing about four feet in height. They wore ragged cloaks, pants, and sashes, but little else. One carried a dull shortspear just right for his height, the other a wooden club. They were sniffing at the door of a house with their snouts. Luckily, Reah was upwind, otherwise they would have noticed her. After they grunted and nodded to one another, one of the pyhgoars reached for the doorknob.

Reah hopped over the fence and readied her weapon, Bonespur, a twinblade with a beast’s jawbones on both ends. She rushed the two pyhgoars and struck them down, making sure to slice their throats so they wouldn’t alert any others. The shock of the sudden blows had dropped the two boar men, though she knew better than to leave them like that. She took the shortspear and stabbed each one in the heart. Even small porga had an uncanny constitution. She would take no chances and leave herself open.

There must be a survivor in this house, Reah thought. She slipped into the house and shut the door. Though it was dark, Reah’s keen eyes adjusted to the dim light. It was a family home, with two adult-sized beds and a child’s bed. No one seemed to be around, but Reah caught the scent of someone nearby. She followed the scent to a closet and patted one of its doors gently.

“Is someone in there?” Reah whispered. “I’ve taken care of those beasties outside. It’s safe for now.”

Stepping back, she waited. The closet slowly opened, and a girl peeked out from it. She was a young Gairen girl with dark, filthy hair – damp and matted with sweat. She wore a faded green dress and a grey surcoat stained with mud and blood. The girl was covered from head to toe in dirt, grime, cuts, and bruises. Thankfully, she didn’t have any serious injuries. Reah wondered where the bloodstains must have come from.

“W-who are you?” the girl asked. Reah stooped down and put her hands on her knees, softening her expression.

“My name is Reah. I’m an adventurer. And you are?”

“I… I’m Alligri, though everyone calls me Alli.” The girl paused, looking around. “Are there any more outside? D-did you get them all?”

“There are no others nearby, though I don’t know about further in the village.” Reah reached out her hand and gently rubbed the girl’s hair to try and put her at ease. When it was clear that the girl no longer feared her, Reah scooped Alli up in her arms, sat down on one of the beds, and held her there. The girl clung to Reah. She felt so… Small. So fragile. Reah continued petting Alli’s hair, channeling the ether in her body into her hands to heal Alli’s wounds. That was enough to open the floodgates. Alli cried ugly, bitter tears, sniffling with a snot-filled nose. Sometimes her sobs were interrupted by strangled hiccups and hitched breaths. Reah did her best to keep the girl calm.

“Shh shh shh, it’s gonna be all right,” said Reah. “Just let it all out. I’ve got you.”

Alli didn’t, no, couldn’t reply. Not yet at least. Reah just did what she could to be a pillar for the girl to lean against. When she finally calmed, Alli spoke up.

“There m-must be others. Papa and Sissy Luma a-are in danger!”

“Do you know what happened?” asked Reah.

“I… I’m not sure. Papa had gone out to work for the day, then Sissy Luma had to take care of some chores outside. I stayed home to s-study my letters, but then I heard a funny horn from outside. I thought maybe it was something fun, like a f-festival, so I walked outside to see, but then there was shouting and running. I saw something coming down from the sky, then one of the guards dove at me and let whatever came down hit him instead. I… I remember he stopped moving, and lots of blood was coming out. He was so heavy, I cut myself on his armor trying to crawl out from under him. Then those pigmen started running into the village and attacking everyone, even me! Some of the villagers helped me escape, but I don’t know what happened to them. I tried to find Papa and Sissy Luma. I think… I think the pigmen put everyone in chains.”

It didn’t surprise Reah. Porga were sometimes called the Hogs of War. Legend says that they were ordinary boars that were made to walk upright by the dark magic of Cheruvyx, the god of war. When the first porga saw that other pigs were being eaten and kept in pens by the races of men, it drove them mad. Ever since, the porga have waged an endless war against the races of men, raiding towns, slaying their warriors, and capturing the weak and wounded to be used as slaves, and sometimes even food. Indeed, some porga were mad enough that the only way they feel revenge for their “brethren” has been served is if men are made to experience the same fate as pigs…

“I know what I have to do,” said Reah. “It may be scary right now, but can you hide for just a bit longer? I’m going to try and save everyone.”

“Even Papa and Sissy Luma?”

“Especially Papa and Sissy Luma.”

Reah set the girl down. While Alli had regained her composure, she still looked wary and unsure.

“But there were so many! Are you sure you can do it?”

“Of course I can do it.” Reah stood up, banging a fist against her chest. “Just leave it to me! I’ll save your village if it’s the last thing I do!”

Despite her bold words, Reah could tell Alli was still worried, so she tried something else. She untied a necklace she was wearing which was a string of leather with an ivory wolf’s head hanging from it. After kneeling down, she showed the wolf necklace to Alli.

“Do you see this? This is a necklace my father gave to me. He was a brave man who fought in the Black Sky War. Before he left me at our village to join the fight, he made this and said that if I ever got into trouble, as long as I wore this necklace, he would appear to keep me safe. Well… He’s probably the strongest person I know, so for the time being, why don’t you wear it instead?”

“Don’t you need it?” asked Alli. Reah shook her head.

“It’ll be dangerous out there, but I know I can do it. So, to make sure you’re safe while I’m gone, please. Take it.”

Alli finally agreed and let Reah tie it around her neck. Afterwards, Alli got back in the closet, and when the door was closed, Reah moved a couple of things to put in the way of the door without making it too obvious it was being blocked. In truth, Reah had no idea if the necklace did anything, but she believed in her father’s words, and with luck, Alli believed in hers. Leaving the house behind, Reah steeled herself for battle.

---

Reah walked through the dirt roads of the village, surveying the scenery. She couldn’t see any porga nearby, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Pyhgoars were especially crafty, making up for their size through stealth and cunning. She was lucky in her first encounter, but she couldn’t get careless. She kept her weapon at the ready and never strayed far from the shadows, moving quickly between buildings.

As Reah grew closer to the center of the village, her ears perked up. It sounded like the porga had gathered there, and given the rattling of chains and other noises, it seemed like they wouldn’t be there for long. Feeling her heart beat in her chest, she crept closer. When she looked around the corner of a house, the knotted sensation in her gut only grew. Tall brown-furred porga she recognized as bragoars were stripping prisoners down and making them wallow in mud. The creatures laughed at the pain and humiliation they inflicted on the villagers, with one even pressing a man’s face into the mud with his hoof.

“Again and again you people butcher my kind to slate your own hunger,” said an especially nasty-looking porga, his voice deep with a rumbling timbre. “You can’t even be bothered to treat them well before you slaughter them. How does it feel, hmm?” The porga then grabbed the man by his hair and pulled him to his feet. The man coughed, having almost suffocated. The bragoar shouted, “HOW DOES IT FEEL!?!”

Some of the prisoners were weeping, others looked dead to the world. Reah even saw a pyhgoar sitting on a rooftop, gnawing on a severed arm. It cackled at the prisoners before going back to eating.

“Why are you doing this?” a woman moaned through her tears.

“Because,” the bragoar shoved the man he had back into the mud. “It makes me feel better.” He then turned to another porga nearby. “Inform the captain we’ll be ready to return to Ockgrask soon.”

“As you wish,” the porga said in a gruff, low tone.

Seeing this made Reah’s blood boil. She had to stop the porga soon, otherwise they would take the prisoners back to their own village. Even so, there were far more enemies than she could have anticipated. She counted twenty, thirty combatants – possibly more. Most wore simple clothes like thick hide vests and dark breeches, while others wore chainmail or bloodstained breastplate. They were well-equipped for simple raiders. A part of Reah was certain she couldn’t face them all, but she was becoming so angry she wasn’t sure if she cared. It was then that she had a moment of clarity.

Wait, the signal fire! They couldn’t have lit it for people like me. There must be someone nearby, like a militia or something. Are they on their way? If so, they’ll be too late. The porga are already getting ready to leave!

Reah thought about the situation. There was only one course of action, as far as she saw. She had to do everything in her power to distract the porga and keep them from leaving with the prisoners. If she could take them all down, good, but if not… Hopefully whoever came by next would finish the job.

Carefully, Reah whispered an incantation. Magic was by no means her specialty, but she knew a few tricks that helped her get by. In this case, she cast a spell on herself that would bolster the sound of her voice. The louder she could be, the better. Her second incantation was more complex, something that would harden her exposed skin to help shrug off blows. With so many potential foes, she couldn’t take any chances. When she felt good and ready, she climbed onto the roof of the building she was next to, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Hear me, porga! My name is Reah Fenae of the Crescent Valley! I am the daughter of Toma Fenae, Hero of the Black Sky War! This village is now under my protection! Face me now and suffer my wrath or leave the prisoners here and never return!!!”

Of course, she knew the porga wouldn’t flee. Fleeing in the face of opposition was one of the most dishonorable things you could do in their culture. They would also see her invoking her father’s name as a sign of weakness, as if to say her name couldn’t stand on its own. But that, too, was part of her plan. Not only would she rile up the porga, she might even inspire the villagers.

At first there was silence. Everyone, even the prisoners, were staring at Reah in disbelief. But then the bragoar who spoke earlier said, “Who is this idiot? Did we miss someone?!”

“I don’t think so,” said another porga.

“Then kill her! I want her head on a pike before the captain returns!!”

Hearing those words, all the other porga readied their weapons and began the attack. There were pyhgoars with their spears, clubs, and even rondel daggers; then there were bragoars with war cleavers and wooden mallets. Some of the bragoars drew finely crafted Maplewood longbows and fired on Reah. She was quick to roll off the roof, avoiding the first volley as she landed on her feet. Two pyhgoars soon rushed her with their spears. She twirled Bonespur about, smacking the spears out of the way before striking them down with a ferocious slash of her blade.

After leaping over the falling bodies of her first foes, two more pyhgoars attacked with clubs, and as she parried the incoming attacks, a third leaped from a rooftop with a dagger. She avoided the brunt of the attack, but she still felt a nasty cut against her shoulder blade. She kicked the pyhgoar away before clicking something on her twinblade out of place. The two halves separated, connected by a steel chain. She spun around, deflecting and slicing at her opponents, sweeping one of their legs, jamming a blade into the pyhgoar’s chest, then rushed a bragoar as she continued her assault.

The first bragoar swung horizontally with his mallet. Reah ducked beneath this, swinging one of her blades upwards and cutting through the porga’s chest and snout. The beast gurgled blood as it went down, but Reah couldn’t rest, for two other bragoars fired on her with their bows. She managed to smack one of the arrows out of the air, but she took the second arrow to her left thigh. Her spell from earlier kept it from rendering her leg useless, but it still hurt. Gritting her teeth, she yanked the arrow out and jammed it into the eye of an oncoming pyhgoar. Reah kicked off the fallen body and spun through the air at one of the archers, shattering his bow with the first strike and decapitating him with the second. She landed on the ground, her boots skidding across the dirt. Still more came to attack.

The porga rushed Reah as fast as they could, swinging wildly with their weapons. The redhaired warrior entered into a kind of battle trance as she slashed her way through the oncoming enemies. Adrenaline flew through her veins, and she danced across the battlefield, killing one porga after the other. The more she killed, the closer she got to the bragoar that was torturing a man earlier.

“Weaklings, the lot of you!” the bragoar shouted. “I’ll just have to kill her myself!” Readying a war cleaver, he swung at Reah, smashing the ground as she dodged. He used the blade to block incoming hits before punching Reah in the gut with his offhand. The force of the blow stunned Reah momentarily. It felt like one of her ribs was broken, but it didn’t matter. She fought her way through the pain as she continued her attack, putting more and more pressure on the bragoar before her.

As the fight progressed, other porga ran in to help. Reah kept up her defense as she made sure to not get too far away from her target. But with so many enemies to distract her, a pyhgoar got a lucky blow on her, jamming a dagger into her lower back between her right obliques. As her target swung his cleaver at her, she spun around, letting it hit the pyhgoar on her back instead. The force of the blow still made her stumble forward, and a dagger was still in her back, but Reah fought on. Better to leave it in for now than yank it out and bleed to death.

A power that was passed down to every member of her tribe was the ability to call upon the strength of other animals. Whether this was used to hone the senses, strengthen limbs, or even grow claws, every member of the beahuil people could do this – including her. Reah called upon this power as her body bulged with muscle. Steam billowed from her mouth, and she howled in anger. Power surged through her arms as she tore through the porga in front of her, taking them apart limb by limb. When she could finally reach her target, she sliced the cleaver’s blade from its handle before the porga could swing and drove one of her blades into his gut, lifting him into the air. Blood splashed across her hair and face before she threw him to the ground. Her muscles then relaxed, and her body shrank – if only a little.

With the nearby porga slain, Reah bought herself a little bit of time. She noticed a ring of keys on the belt of the bragoar she had just killed. She yanked the keyring away and began unlocking the shackles of the prisoners.

“Others will be upon me soon,” said Reah. “I can’t unlock every shackle in time, so take these keys and free as many as you can. When the time comes, run as quick as your legs can carry you.”

“Thank you!” said one of the prisoners, who fumbled with the keys. He unlocked his shackles before turning to another prisoner and unlocking theirs. Reah used the few seconds she was given to catch her breath and patch up her wounds. Her magic wasn’t strong enough to heal her all the way through, but it was enough to ease the pain in her body and stop any bleeding.

Too soon came the sound of stomping hooves as more porga rushed into the center of the village. Reah spun around and blocked an incoming strike from another bragoar. He stared Reah down with white eyes, growling in anger.

“I’ll see you dead!” shouted the porga. He swung his own head at Reah trying to gore her with his tusks. Reah dodged back, only taking a cut to the cheek as she pulled her weapons away from her foe’s. She could see even more porga on their way, so Reah did her best to lead the enemy away from the prisoners.

“Over here you flea-ridden barbarians!!” Reah shouted. Were her enemies human, she wouldn’t dare leave the prisoners unguarded, but porga, for all their strengths, were easy to goad into fighting. Reah gave the prisoners just enough breathing room so they could slip away into another part of the village. At least for now, she could focus on fighting.

“After her!” shouted one of the porga.

“Kill her! Cut her to pieces!” shouted another.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” said Reah as she ran.

She led the porga to a denser part of the village. The narrow road, she hoped, would funnel her enemies and make them easier to take on. This only helped until the smaller ones caught up. Hopping from roof to roof, the pyhgoars closed in on Reah as the bragoars charged her with their weapons.

Minutes passed as Reah fought off the onslaught of porga. Every second felt like an eternity. Her body was growing tired, her defenses sloppy. Her body was riddled with shallow cuts and bruises, to say nothing of the dagger still in her back. She knew she couldn’t keep this up forever. She had killed at least two dozen porga, but there seemed to be no end to them. She kept on the run, cutting down one or two before moving to another part of the village. Was there really a militia on the way or was she a fool for ever thinking there’d be reinforcements? It didn’t matter. At this point, all that mattered was survival. She made a promise to Alli, and she would not rest until the girl’s village was safe again.

Calling upon the strength of beasts once more, Reah became a dervish of death, a vortex of blades. She cut her way through the enemy, painting the village roads red with blood; some of it was her own, but most of it was from her enemies. Every attack was as graceful as it was brutal, and the teeth of her jawbone blades dug deep into the dense hide and muscle of the porga before tearing through.

When she had a moment to breathe, Reah stopped. She gasped for air as fatigue burned her muscles and parched her throat. Even the ether in her body was running low. She tapped herself with another healing spell before spitting out blood and saliva. She took a swig from her waterskin, desperate for something to keep her going. As she drank the last of her water, an arrow pierced the skin. She tossed it aside, her eye twitching. Up ahead she saw four bragoar archers with a much taller and more fearsome porga in the center, at least seven feet in height. His fur was black, his eyes pure red, and his fur sharp like quills. He wore thick-looking dark metal armor that covered his chest, shoulders, arms, and legs in plating. His armor was also spiked on the pauldrons, joints, and armguards. He also carried a wooden tower shield painted with what looked like a spine being shattered by a boar’s hoof, and a red breech cloth dangled from his thick leather belt with a similar emblem. Lastly, a spiked flail’s handle rested in a belt loop. Were it not for his boar’s head, the porga would have resembled an armored minotaur.

This must be a feroar, Reah thought. I’ve heard of their kind, but I’ve never seen one before.

“Well well well,” said the feroar in a deep, sinister voice. “You must be the troublemaker that’s been ruining this operation.”

“And you must be the captain,” said Reah.

“You catch on quick. My name is Galthrack. And you?”

“Galthrack, eh? Why would you want to know my name?”

The feroar gestured to the archers. “Because I want to know what name to carve on your gravestone.”

“You must be deaf, then, because I nearly threw out my voice to let everyone know my name earlier. Still,” Reah grinned with false bravado, “You can call me Reah Fenae.”

Galthrack chuckled at this. “Fenae, is it? Now that’s a name I’ve heard of. So you’re that old druid’s offspring, eh? It’s a shame he couldn’t be here today.”

Reah narrowed her eyes. “And why is that?”

“So he could bury you himself.” Galthrack then signaled the archers. “Men, fire at will!!”

The four archers released their arrows, drawing from their quivers as quickly as they fired them. Reah recombined her weapons into their twinblade form and spun it around, doing her best to deflect the incoming volleys. And yet, her body was still tired. Still sluggish from fatigue. One arrow got through, hitting her in the shoulder – though not digging deep. Then another stuck itself in her thigh. And then another, and another. Reah fought through the pain and charged, half out of rage, and half out of desperation. She closed the distance, despite her injuries, and cut down two of the archers then and there. One of the archers tossed his bow aside to draw his sidearm, but was too slow, and he fell to Reah’s blades. The fourth archer charged her, trying to smash the wood of his bow into her throat. She blocked the attack, shirked the porga to her side, then stabbed one of her blades right into his back. The archer fell, and only Galthrack remained. The feroar just… Laughed.

“What’s so damn funny? Don’t you care about seeing your men die?!”

Galthrack clapped his three-fingered hands together, red eyes gleaming. “You put on quite the performance, I’d say. There’s nothing I like to see more than a desperate struggle. And even though you killed my men, they died honorable deaths. They will feast at Cheruvyx’s table while I strike you down in their name!”

Reah wasted no more words and charged the feroar. The boar’s eyes gleamed like a smile before he smashed his tower shield into her, knocking her to the ground on her side. The impact of the fall broke the hafts of some the arrows. It would prove painful to dig them out later. Reah spun her legs around to kip up, readying her weapon once more. Galthrack drew his flail as well.

“This… Will be a night to remember,” said the feroar.

Adrenaline still in her veins, Reah charged her foe once more, swinging her blade. It was blocked by the porga’s tower shield, but this time she braced against his shield, splitting her twinblade back into two swords. She spun around on her feet as she swirled around the shield, slicing at the porga’s backside. Galthrack pushed into the strike, relying on his thick armor to protect him while he shoved Reah off balance. He then slammed his shield down and kicked it at Reah. She sliced the wooden shield in two, but Galthrack was right behind it, slamming into Reah with his tusks. The porga catapulted Reah backwards using only his head, tossing her like a sack of grain. She righted herself midair, landing gracefully on a rooftop.

“Ha ha ha! Now this is fun!” said Galthrack.

“I can’t believe you’re enjoying this,” said Reah.

“I can’t believe you aren’t!”

Galthrack then ran head-first into the wooden building, smashing it apart with his hulking body like it was made of straw. Reah hopped from the roof as the building came falling down. A spiked flail pierced through the rubble as Galthrack tried to strike her. Reah deflected the blow, but it left her open. Galthrack burst from the rubble, grabbing Reah by the throat as he kept running, smashing her through two other buildings. They reached the center of the village by the time Reah broke free of his grasp, kicking off his chest before landing on the ground. She had no time to rest, though, for the boar’s flail was coming in fast.

Reah deflected the incoming attack, wrapping her own chain around the flail’s before yanking it out of Galthrack’s hands. He looked at his empty hands and shrugged.

“So be it.”

Galthrack rushed Reah once more, ducking under her strikes before hooking her in the jaw with a punch. The redhaired warrior was knocked across the dirt road, sliding to a halt on her feet. He then picked up one of the oversized war cleavers from the ground and threw it. The blade spun horizontally towards Reah, who jumped over it, only to dodge another at a different angle. Soon she had to evade incoming clubs, spears, daggers, and even a mallet, which Reah caught mid-air in her hand.

“Ah ha ha! Good catch!!” shouted Galthrack.

“Is this a game to you?!” Reah shouted back.

“This is no game, girl. This is a clash of souls! I, Captain of the Spinecrusher Tribe and you, the champion of this pitiful village! But can you keep this up forever?” Reah threw the mallet back at Galthrack, who caught it by its head and crushed it in his hand. “Let’s find out.”

Picking up two clubs, Galthrack charged after Reah, who readied for the oncoming attack. The two exchanged blows, swinging, dodging, and deflecting. Even in her tired state, Reah proved the nimbler of the two, landing a few cuts on the exposed parts of Galthrack’s body. The pain seemed to invigorate him, and he cackled, his quills standing on end. Amidst the clash of souls, Galthrack pressed into a strike from Reah, puncturing her with his spiked fur. As she pulled away, Reah realized the hairs were still stuck in her. Indeed, the quills were not just for show, and as she noticed them, she felt something nasty course through her system. Her bodily movements slowed, leaving her open to attack. She took two punches from Galthrack and a knee to the gut, skidding across the ground. Were it not for her spell, she was certain she’d be dead by now.

“What… Did you do to me?” Reah grunted.

“Poisoned quills,” Galthrack said, pulling one off his body and flicking its tip. “We feroar have a strong tolerance for poison, and if we ingest enough of it, it seeps into our quills.”

Reah forced herself to her feet, her legs shaking. “I thought your kind sought honor in combat.”

“Is there not honor in pushing your foe to their absolute limits? Would there not be even greater honor for you in victory, despite these conditions?” Galthrack paused. Surviving porga were making their way towards the village center. He almost looked… Disappointed. Reah’s confidence in her survival was plummeting fast, but like a miracle, the sound of shouting humans rang out as well. It came from… The villagers.

“What the? I thought I told you all to run!” shouted Reah.

“I’ll not let you die alone!” shouted a grey-haired man wielding a pitchfork. “Come on everyone! Charge!!!”

The villagers, wielding farm tools and the weapons of dead porga ran across the village, meeting the porga head-on.

“Isn’t this grand?” said Galthrack. “Now you have an audience for your death!” He stomped the edge of a cleaver’s blade, flipping it into the air and catching it by the handle. “Now, show me your worth, champion!”

Reah’s head was spinning. She was certain she would vomit if she moved too fast, her head was pounding, and her limbs felt like they were made of lead. Even so, she knew she couldn’t let Galthrack live. Either he died or she died.

Reah thought about Alli. She thought about her homeland. She thought about her father. She calmed the ache in her body as she entered a trance once more.

Champion, huh? I guess it’s time I earned that title.

Time slowed as Reah and Galthrack ran towards each other. One final strike. One move to end it all. In the heat of the moment, Reah made a gamble. She made it seem like she was going to swing with Bonespur like normal, but at the last second, she dropped her weapon, reached for the dagger still in her back, then pulled it free. She ducked under Galthrack’s attack before jamming the dagger straight into his throat. The momentum of the charging porga only helped Reah push it in further as her boots dug into the dirt. Soon enough, Galthrack slowed down. He stumbled back, reaching for the dagger that had practically come out the other side of his neck. This was all the time Reah needed. She scooped up Bonespur, turned it back into a twinblade, then gripped it like a battleaxe.

“This is the end!!”

Reah called upon the strength of beasts one last time before swinging her blade as hard as she could. The fangs of Bonespur met their mark, and Galthrack’s head was split in twain. All that was left was the lower half of the porga’s snout and a gaping bloody stump. For a moment, it seemed like his body was still alive, and the feroar lurched forward, hands reaching for Reah’s throat. But then he collapsed, and when he did, all of the strength in Reah’s body gave out.

---

When Reah next regained consciousness, it was only for mere moments. Her head was spinning. All she could remember was lying in bed and a black-haired girl by her side.

The next time she woke up, it was for a bit longer. A few seconds at most. Yes, she was certain. She was in the home she found Alli in. But there were others, too. That grey-haired man from before and… A huldra? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wasn’t dreaming. The last thing she noticed was a familiar weight around her neck.

Reah passed out again. She had no idea what was going on anymore. Was she dying, or regaining her strength?

Finally, Reah had grown strong enough to wake up for good. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air. Sunlight shined through an open window and billowing curtains. She was… Safe. She was alive. But how? She remembered fighting the porga until she collapsed, but then everything went black.

Reah looked down. Alli was kneeling beside the bed, with her head across her arms, gently snoring.

“You’re finally awake,” said a familiar voice. Reah turned, every muscle still aching. It was the grey-haired man. He looked like a Gairen man in his early 40s with a short beard, rugged face, and brown eyes. He had a scar across his face – one that she could not recall when he was charging into battle the night before.

That was last night, right? Reah thought.

“Yes, I’m… Finally awake. My body seems to hold disagreements with that, but I think I’ll be all right. Who are you? Where am I?”

“My name is Bergin. I’m Alligri’s father, you see, and this… Is my home.”

Reah looked across the room, seeing the very same closet she found Alli in the other day. The memory flashed in her mind like lightning.

“Yes… I see. What happened?” Reah asked. “After I beat that feroar, I’m pretty sure I passed out.”

“You did… Luckily at the best time. I can explain in a minute, but first, are you hungry? Luma baked you some bread.”

“I’d love some. Here’s hoping it doesn’t fall out of one of my battle wounds,” Reah laughed, her body tensing from the pain.

Reah noticed a huldra woman sitting at a table on the other side of the house. She was sipping what smelled like tea from a clay mug, her eyes closed. She looked like a tall and slender woman with blonde hair and pointed ears. A Spring huldra from the looks of things, as their appearance often matched the season they were born in. When the woman set her mug down, she opened her eyes. They shined the most vibrant green Reah had ever seen. She looked at Reah and smiled.

Bergin walked to the kitchen while Reah and Luma exchanged glances. He picked up a basket that was filled with bread loaves. After bringing it over to Reah, he sat down on a stool.

“Help yourself. We have food a plenty, so you don’t have to share the bread.”

“Are you sure?” asked Reah. Bergin nodded, and that was all she needed to start shoveling bread into her mouth. She bit, chewed, and swallowed as quickly as she could. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until now, but she ate so fast she almost choked.

“Hey, slow down! The bread isn’t going anywhere. Here, have some water,” Bergin passed a wooden pint over to Reah, who drained it in one long gulp.

“Aah! That’s better.”

Bergin had the look of a father that just watched his daughter drag in a stray dog from outside, who also shook off the rainwater on its fur everywhere. He sighed but smiled all the same.

“And here I thought we were done with beasts.”

Reah chuckled, reaching for another loaf of bread. After taking a small bite out of it, she said, “So what did I miss? Did you guys take care of the porga?”

“Not exactly,” said Bergin. “You see, after you led the porga away, the villagers and I made our way in the direction of the local militia. Our signal fire had tipped them off, and we were able to meet them on the road just as they were coming up the hill to the village. They told us to step aside and leave things to them, but when I saw you fight those porga and free us, it stirred something in me. Something I hadn’t felt for a long time.”

The huldra approached, bringing a chair to sit on as well. “As I recall, you said ‘Fuck that, I’m helping whether you like it or not.’ And then you led the other villagers back into Mackmalin.”

Luma said it with such a polite and graceful tone that Reah didn’t know how to respond. She and Bergin stared at Luma in disbelief before busting out laughing. It still hurt to laugh, but it hurt a little less the second time around.

“So after that,” Bergin continued, “I led the charge into the village ahead of the militia. Just in time, apparently, because you seemed to be on your last leg. We struck back against the porga for what they did to us, and before things got too dicey, the militia swarmed in and mopped up the rest. I believe you passed out just as they ran in.”

Reah thought back to that night. She wasn’t sure, but somehow, she could recall the sound of clanking armor.

“Seems like I got lucky,” Reah said.

“You’ve got a devil’s luck, that’s for sure,” said Bergin. “When the battle was over, we found you collapsed in a pool of your own blood. We thought you were dead, but then Luma here heard you saying something.”

“You were mumbling, ‘Don’t worry, Alli’,” said Luma.

“We put two and two together and decided to bring you back here so Luma could treat your wounds. She’s a rather talented healer and patched you up – though I helped out too, since you had so many arrowheads and other things stuck in your body.”

Reah looked under her blanket, realizing she was bandaged from top to bottom. “Ah,” she said. “Then I owe you both a lot. Thank you for saving me!”

Bergin said, “Are you kidding me? You saved the whole village! This doesn’t seem nearly enough for what you did, but… If it makes it easier for you, we can call it even. It’s not like I have the money to pay you.”

Reah smiled, saying, “Oh, I didn’t do it because I thought I’d get paid. I did it because, well, why wouldn’t I? If you see someone in trouble, it’d be a damn rotten thing to look the other way… Right?”

Bergin and Luma chuckled at Reah’s remark, with Bergin saying, “You have a point. Either way, we’re very grateful. I suspect you’ll need a few more days to recover, but don’t fret. We’ll take care of you until you can stand on your feet again.”

“Speaking of which, how long was I out? It feels like that fight was just yesterday,” said Reah. Bergin and Luma gave each other an odd look.

“You’ve been out for nearly a week,” said Bergin.

“Oh! Is that all? Good thing I don’t have anywhere I need to be right now!” Reah laughed.

And so, Reah spent the next few days at Bergin’s house, slowly recovering her strength. When next she and Alli were awake, Alli’s eyes beamed with delight.

“Reah, Reah! You’re okay! I knew the necklace would make you better!!”

“Was that you? I’m in your debt, then!” said Reah with a smile.

Alli’s happy expression soon took on a saddened one as the floodgates returned. Alli wept profusely and she clamped onto Reah in a hug, crying into her shoulder. Reah just patted the girl on the back, petting her hair.

“I was so scared!!” cried Alli. “Papa and Sissy Luma carried you back but you were covered in all sorts of things and you weren’t moving and… And… I thought you wouldn’t move again!”

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay now. Your papa and sissy made everything better. I’m going to be all right.”

After their reunion, Reah spent her time eating, resting, and holding conversations with the residents of Bergin’s house. To entertain Alli, she regaled her with stories from her past adventures – leaving out the more gruesome details – as well as talking to Alli about her homeland, Tirachna. The days passed slowly, but peacefully. In many ways, this felt like its own reward for her good deeds.

Another way Reah passed the time was through woodcarving. While Alli had given Reah her necklace back since she “didn’t need it anymore”, it was clear that talk of Reah’s departure upset the girl, so Reah decided to carve Alli her own necklace as a keepsake.

“You’re really gonna make me my own?” asked Alli.

“Of course!” said Reah. “I can’t stay here forever, after all, so think of this as my going away present.”

“But… I thought you gave presents to the person going away,” Alli scratched her head.

“What I mean is, I’ll be leaving not too long from now, so in case I don’t see you for a long time, you can have this pendant I’m carving for you. Whenever you’re scared or lonely, hold onto and think of me.”

Alli nodded while wearing a serious expression. Even so, her eyes were watery with tears.

“Hey hey hey, don’t cry!!” said Reah in a panic.

And just like that, the day came where Reah could finally stand up again. She stretched her sore body. Her muscles felt weak from not being used, so the first thing she did was exercise. After sharing one last meal with Bergin’s family, she packed her things and made ready to leave. Alli clung onto Reah’s leg.

“Noooo, you can’t leave yet! I’ll… Miss you.”

Reah smiled. After pulling Alli off her leg, Reah knelt down and patted the girl’s head.

“I’ll miss you too, but I have to get going.”

“But why?”

“I still have places I want to see, people I want to meet. There’s a whole world out there waiting for me, and I won’t be satisfied until I’ve seen every last inch of it. You understand, don’t you?”

Alli sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her arm. “Y-yeah…”

“Then until we meet again.”

Reah opened the door, leaving Alli, Bergin, and Luma behind. For the first time in a long while, she felt the sun on her face and the wind through her hair. The world was calling her name, and she’d be damned if she didn’t answer it. So, she left Mackmalin and continued on her journey. The road ahead would be filled with new troubles and new challenges, and Reah couldn’t wait to meet them head on.

#what keeps me going #fantasy #dark fantasy #short story #novelette #my writing #arachnia #writeblr #short fiction #reah #bergin #writing commission #Arachnia Fables

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