Warpath (1)

"Mom... Dad... Why?"

"I'm here, baby. I'm here."

"Why did you leave?"

"I'm right here. Can you feel my hand?"

"...Why. Why did you die?"

Trisha squeezed Bellavarn's hands tighter. Unable to anything more. A Duchess with control over thousands. A woman who could sway countless minds to fight for her and lead a charge against northern invaders. The Northern Empress of Ice and Fire. She could halt an invasion and burn down countless marauding fleets. Yet she was powerless to help her only son. He couldn't hear her voice calling out to him nor feel the comfort of her touch.

Bellavarn's hands were so large.

Trisha could remember the first few years where he could barely hold onto her little finger. The days she would come back from fighting on the field, attendants trying to get her to wash the blood off before she was allowed to play with her little boy.

"Up. Up!"

"I've got you, Little Bell. Up you go!"

"Higher! Faster!"

Spinning. A chubby face laughing.

Her little boy was all grown up. His hands large enough to encompass her own. He could make his own decisions and be strong enough to protect someone else—however noble or foolish the action.

"I'm here, Little Bell."

The ringing laughter that made all the slaughter and killing worth it. Having to pamper those nobles and aristocrats was doable when she realized who she did it for. To keep his world safe. To have him grown up loved and cared for.

"Mom..."

Her voice cracked as she tried to comfort her son.

"Duchess. He is delirious. Staying near him will only hurt you."

Parcy.

Her personal attendant stood close by—a gentle hand on Trisha's shoulder.

"Then what am I supposed to do, Parcy? What if he wakes up and I am not here? What if he believes he is alone?"

Bellavarn's breathing was pained; sweat coated his skin, a cold towel was placed on his forehead. His bright blonde hair appeared darker as it matted his head. Trisha's eyes kept going back to the black veins surrounding the wrapped wound.

"Duchess. Look around. Do you really think Bellavarn is alone?"

Trisha removed her eyes off her son. Looking around, she saw Potter sitting next to Kerv. Simon, the doctor, treated Kerv's hand. Continuing, she saw others. Ester. Lannie. Denice.

More.

Kyle guarded the door. Wendle sat at a table with Wilson and Cynthia, working on supplies.

And more.

Misses Vale passed out drinks to a group of staff and servants. Even Vienna was present, hugging a bowl of soup, curled up, and watching Bellavarn with worry.

"Do you believe Bellavarn is alone, Duchess? That if you leave, he will wake up to no one?"

Trisha gazed around. Each face looking to her or Bellavarn. Staring openly or peaking glances. They gave their silent answer.

Bellavarn united them. All of them, in less than two months. The only ones absent were those who went with the Duke or were actively guarding the mansion.

Bellavarn was alone before.

No longer.

Trisha looked back at her son. His pained face. Imagining his eyes opening to see this scene. What would he say? What would he feel?

Parcy handed her a tissue, Trisha accepted. Dabbing at her eyes before handing it back.

"Thank you, Parcy."

Trisha found herself smiling under the circumstances.

"Duchess!"

"Hm?"

It was Kyle's voice. Another guard panted next to him.

"Mam, it is Henry. He is back."

"Henry? Didn't he go after the attacker?"

"He did. He is waiting in the foyer. And apparently has a captive."

Trisha bristled. Briefly giving Bellvarn's hand a squeeze before letting go. Her demeanor changed.

"Parcy."

A pause.

"Fetch me my sword."

=

Trisha strapped on her sword for the first time in over a year. It was discourteous or disallowed during tea parties. Pregnancy made it feel a bit awkward around her waist, but it fits all the same. The silver pommel cooled her warm hand. The sword longed to be used. The enchantments yeared to breathe.

"Where is he?"

"He said since we don't have a dungeon or cell, he would use one of the storage rooms."

"Prudent."

Walking down a short hallway off the foyer, they came to a closed door. Trisha saw blood on the handle. Drawing her gladius, she let the enchantments thrum, the two behind her doing the same. With a shout, she kicked in the door. It burst off the hinges and flew into the room.

Dust cleared, and the Duchess strode in.

Henry loomed over a man bound to a chair. The wired restraints digging into his chest and arms. His feet kicked feebly, trying to get away. He squealed at the sight of the Duchess.

"Henry. The blood."

"Duchess? Apologies. It's not mine. I was planning to wash but hadn't the time."

Seeing Henry splattered in blood almost made her pity the fools.

"There were interruptions, and I needed to deal with them before moving this one back here. He is the one who stabbed Bellavarn."

The aura oozing off of the Duchess brought the temperature into the room to a standstill. The guards noticed the situation, backing up. Seeing their breath, they sheathed their swords. Trisha's gaze made the captive faint.

"Duchess. You're aura."

"I wanted him unconscious. If I hear him speak, I will cut out his tongue."

"I have learned only some. Mainly that he was paid to attack Bellavarn. Associates of his employer waited to kill him at the end of a preplanned escape route. They didn't expect me to be following. When they realized I was questioning him, they attacked. I engaged, but they ended up killing each other before I could get answers. One of them exploded..."

Henry made an attempt at removing the gore covering him, but most of it was dried. He appeared peeved at the situation as a whole. Resigned, he continued.

"I suspected that this man knew more. I was waiting for the Duke to question him further. If you'd like to question him instead, I recommend you cut out his tongue after we hear his words."

The Duchess looked disgusted.

"Fine. I will speak with him, since the duke won't be back for a minute. He is still searching for the weapon."

"No need. I have it. I picked it up before running in pursuit."

Trisha sheathed her sword. The temperature abating but not rising.

"Kyle? Take the weapon and bring it to the doctor. Heath? Guard the hallway and make sure no one else enters save my husband."

"Understood, Duchess."

Kyle ran up to Henry, retrieving the weapon, a rough shank that was unsuited to battle. He whispered to Henry before he departed.

"Hell of a job, Henry. Kerv will be jealous."

"Just make sure he doesn't touch the pointy end."

Kyle rolled his eyes and finally left.

"Wake him up."

"Yes, Duchess."

*SMACK*

A red print in the shape of Henry's hand did the trick. The man jerked, panicking, noticing he was still tied up, he stopped moving and resigned to breathing rapidly through his nose. The sight of both Henry and the Duchess reignited his panic.

"Shut it."

There was a whimper from the captive as he tried to obey.

"You will tell me everything. Why you attacked Bellavarn and who you work for. If I am unsatisfied with your answer, you die. I won't ask if you understand. Remove the gag, Henry."

Henry did so. Opening the flood gates.

"Please! Don't kill me. It wasn't my idea. He paid me. He said it would be easy. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. He was going to kill me. That villainous duke was going to kill me. You were going to kill me. I am going to die. I don't want to die. Please don't kill me. I don't want to die."

"Enough. Tell me about the poison."

"Poison? What poison? He gave me the shiv. He told me to stab the wicked duke. Said he would pay. Gold. Gold! I would be paid gold."

Trisha clenched the hilt of her sword tighter. Henry moved to her side, whispering in her ear.

"What was the poison, Duchess. I may know it."

The grip didn't relax.

"It was Percher's poison. The doctor treated it, but it activated a second poison. Green smoke. Black lines. Intense fever and delirium."

Henry uncharacteristically cursed.

"I know it. It is a unique torturer's brew. A brutal concoction designed to cause intense pain and lock the victim in delusion but deny death. Someone wanted Bellavarn to suffer."

Ice. The man wept at the sword piercing his chest.

"Suffer? You wanted my boy to suffer?"

"AH! NO! PLEASE! I DIDN'T! Noooo!"

Ice encased the wound, creeping up his shoulder and enveloping his entire left arm. Sharp icicles pricked his red cheek, causing hot blood to seep onto the crystals.

The ice stopped.

"My husband is not nearly as kind as Bellavarn. And I am nowhere near as pleasant as either of them. Do you have an idea what would cause a woman to carry a sword? A pregnant woman?"

The man's teeth chattered, but no answer was forthcoming.

"There is only one answer. It is obvious. Even someone like you can guess."

The man's eyes were full of panic and despair as he gazed into winter orbs. The Duchess's hair became undone, the platinum blonde strands falling. She yanked the sword out. His frozen arm tore off, shattering on the floor.

"For her child. Only for her child."

The man looked down at his missing arm and screamed. Trisha stepped back, sheathing her gladius.

"The only thing I don't understand is why you ran for Lady April instead. Was she part of your plan? Was she in on it? Or, since you could not reach my son, you ran for the nearest noble instead, hoping you would still get paid.

The man was hysterical.

"No! The man told me to attack Sallow. But I couldn't get to him. He told me if I couldn't, He-He said...run for the girl. And Sallow will throw himself in the way. And-and he did! By the gods, he actually did! B-but. He didn't let go. He didn't let go! Crazy. He was going to kill me. Kill me. He was going to kill me."

Henry's eyebrows knitted for the first time. Uncomprehending. Was it a lucky guess? The whole attack was obviously planned. The mob. The timing. Having another noble present. The mastermind was likely hoping for Bellavarn to kill the crowd in anger, plummeting all his hard-earned reputation.

"A lot of people want you dead. What was the man's name? The one who hired you. It wasn't a woman, I presume."

"He. Him. It was him. A him. His name. Name? Talon. Like a hawk. Talon. Called himself Talon."

Henry looked to the Duchess.

"Sounds like a fake name. It isn't typical in our naming convention. Or any others."

"It is a taunt. We are the Sallows. Our crest in a Swallow. He is declaring his desire to hunt us."

"Then why didn't he choose a lethal poison?"

"Arrogance. He wants to play a longer game. It will end with his head on a pike; his eyes plucked out by crows."

Henry only nodded. Her words ringing true. The man kept staring at his stump, hoping it to reappear. Trisha dismissed him. Turning around.

"I am finished. Leave him for the Duke and the others to take a turn."

"What are you planning?"

Trisha strode away, not looking back. Henry went without his answer.

=

"It is called Wither Leaf. I don't have an antidote, and it would take days to make. I suggest that is where the Duchess went. To procure the tonic. There is only one place that keeps the poison in bulk while also saving the antidote, and that place is the palace."

Simon proclaimed his hypothesis to the room. Those present listening in.

"She went without a guard."

"She has Parcy."

"Parcy isn't a guard."

"Do you really believe she needs one?"

"She is pregnant!"

"And still able to dice a man. She will tear the Palace apart if they don't cede to her wishes."

"She won't do that..."

There was no answer.

"She won't...

The slurping of soup.

"...right?"

"You've never seen her at war. She is plenty feisty with nobles, but only the souls of the dead understand incurring her wrath spelled their doom."

"That was poetic, Oslo."

"Yes, well, I thought it would get the point across. The Duchess is not to be crossed. I pity the fool who stands in her way."

"Mom... Dad..."

Oslo stood next to a sitting Kerv.

"Has he been like this the entire time?"

Kerv nodded glumly.

"Yeah. He usually calls out for his parents. But half the time he thinks them dead."

Misses Vale chimed in.

"He also called out for someone named Veronica."

"Who is Veronica?"

"No idea."

Then Ester spoke quietly.

"He mentions Melody too."

"Melody..."

The room became quiet as everyone present lowered their heads. Vienna's face almost dipped into her soup. Wilson was the first to speak.

"Did anyone know her? Before she came to the mansion, I mean?"

"No."

"I didn't."

Head shakes all around.

"She reminded me of a more bold Lannie."

"Don't compare me to her, Ester."

"I didn't mean it to be rude. I just meant that she had me fooled too. I trusted her and thought of her as a friend during her time here."

"Did you hear she disappeared?"

"With that much money? Probably got robbed."

"No. I heard there is no trace of her or the money."

"Maybe she is in hiding."

"Who cares. Why are we talking about that bitch anyway."

Ester and Lannie stared wide-eyed at Wendle.

"What? I never believed her in the first place."

"Liar."

"Am not."

"Are too."

Oslo interrupted.

"Gentlemen. Ladies. Now is not the time."

More lowered heads.

"What are we supposed to do?

"Soup."

"He knocked the bowl away last time, Vienna. You'll have to wait until he wakes."

"Soup..."

"We can't all stay here, can we? We have other jobs."

Misses Vale intervened.

"Why not? All we do is cook and clean. We can just deliver meals here. The mansion can go without constant cleaning for a while. Most of us can either work here, or relax here. We'll redecorate, make it a common area... Bellavarn hated this room."

"Because of her."

"Is there enough room? It is pretty crowded as it is."

"Remove the dressers and closets, bring in a couch, a larger table, a desk. Easy."

"And just have a huge bed on that side of the room?"

Misses Vale wanted to whack someone, but she was missing her ladle. Vienna was hiding it behind her back.

"Does it really matter?"

"We can try something, Misses Vale, but you are presuming Bellavarn will be like this for a while. If all goes well Bellavarn should be back on his feet in... what, Simon?"

Simon looked up from his bowl of soup. He was basically useless at the moment.

"Without the antidote, Bellavarn will have increasing fits and may even wake in a state of hysteria. It will last a week before being purged from his system. During which will seem like hell."

He slurped his soup.

"With the antidote, we can reduce the symptoms and he can be back on his feet in three days. That is only if he receives the tonic by tonight."

The others looked sideways at him. Torn on whether to ridicule or thank him for the information.

Oslo cleared his throat, picking back up.

"Well. The Spring Equinox is five days away. We can still plan to take him out for the festival."

"That's right. We were planning that. Keeping it a secret was hard."

"All you had to do was not talk about it, Wilson. Literally, the easiest thing to do."

"I am not good with secrets, okay?"

"Just don't blab about it when he wakes up."

The banter was halted by Bellavarn's shriek.

Incoherent, a mess of strangled words. Yelling and writhing. Kerv and Potter darted over to hold him down. Wilson rushed over with Cynthia as well, each taking a leg. Bellavarn kicked and elbowed, managing to knee Wilson in the eye. Bellavarn's wound reopened. Blood began to seep through the bandages.

"Hold him still! The wound reopened."

Oslo jumped in to help Wilson.

"I got him."

"Ah. I got his leg now."

"He is strong."

"Adrenaline."

"No... Fear."

"MELODY!"

Bellavarn bellowed before collapsing, his muscles exhausted. Wilson panted. Cynthia readjusted her hair and uniform. Retreating silently.

Wilson spoke between pants.

"It.. is... getting... worse."

"Should we tie him down?"

"And what if he wakes up like that? Tied to his own bed?"

"What do we do if there aren't enough of us here to hold him down. When it is the middle of the night, and we are exhausted from staying up?

"We can take shifts."

Oslo had the last word.

"We will make it work. Trust in the Duchess; we will manage until she gets back."