Private Tales Lost In The Dark

[Faramund]

The Spine
Date: Unknown
Time: Unknown​

It was summertime in the Vale, but up here, where the mountain peaks stretched tall and foreboding, it might as well have been winter. Between the wind and the snow, the clouds and the crisp line of dawn at it crested the distant teeth of stone, Faramund was beginning to feel as if he had made a mistake coming here. But orders were orders. He had been tasked with investigating a string of grizzly attacks originating from the Spine, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

Villages had been attacked, whole herds of cattle torn asunder. By what, exactly, Faramund could not say. Something evil, to be sure. Something big and mean and ugly. A monster. That was about as much as he had uncovered, practically all of what he had been told. But a quest is a fucking quest, the big knight thought, pulling his cloak tight about him as the winds railed and rallied against him. It was a knight's duty to safeguard the innocent, he had been reminded time and again by his peers. To do so, all one required was a will of iron, a heart of gold.

And balls of steel.

Fortunate, then, that his partner on this little adventure was none other than Selene. Casting a glance over his shoulder, the big knight regarded the Captain of Dusk with eyes turned frosty by the cold. "Not too far now!" He shouted back to the mage, though, he was unsure whether she could hear him over the Spine's deafening howl. Hidden beneath the folds of her cloak, the dusker looked every bit as frozen as he felt. "Just over the next rise," he continued, words stolen in the time it took him to utter them. "See it?"

 

[Selene]

Faramund was shouting something at her. Selene's own darklit eyes followed the dawling's as he looked to her, then back over to the next ridge. She could not see it, in fact, but she felt the huddle of warmth deep in the rocks, a great beast, or multiple little ones. It was still too far for her to tell. As she climbed up to Faramund's height (almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the man, as there weren't too many solid places to stand), the scene revealed itself over the crest of ice and rocks. A deep bowl of rock and ice and alpine tree, ridged by rocks that were just barely wide enough to walk on.

At the far end of the ridge, a yawning mouth of a cave opened up, big enough for something nasty to crawl into. Fat-bellied tracks dirtied the snow leading to the cave, and as Selene squinted against the wind she could just make out the hollowed carcass of a cow, kept from rotting into bones by the cold. "Yes, that certainly looks like a monster's den. And someone's home." Selene had to coat her words with mana to have them be heard over the storming winds, something she usually reserved for the battlefield. She reached out and patted Faramund on the back with a gloved hand. "Don't look so glum, perhaps we can make something interesting out of its bones after we're done."

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

"What do you mean glum? This is how I always look," Faramund replied, the snow in his beard turning darkness to light as he smiled. "But perhaps you're right. All going well, we can grind its bones to make our bread." Or vice versa, the big knight thought, nodding his companion on. "All right, enough dallying. Let's go introduce ourselves before we freeze to death."

Taking point, the dawnling led Selene along the ridge cut into the mountainside by centuries of rain, wind and snow. The stone underfoot was slippery and uneven, the kind of ground that could prove lethal to the uninitiated. Faramund had no problem finding his path however, and soon enough they had reached the gapping cave-mouth.

Through the swirling snow, the knight spotted movement. Dark against the rockface, it was gone before he could blink, claimed by the spirits that haunted these mountains. The Spine had many names, after all. Leg-breaker. Life-taker. The list went on and on, and would no doubt continue to grow as eternity trickled by.

Faramund felt a finger run itself down his spine; he shivered as the ghosts of fallen adventures made themselves known.

"I really do hate this place," he shouted back to Selene, who he had checked on frequently during their stroll along the ridge. Though the woman was a talented spellcaster -that was putting it lightly- and accomplished leader of warriors, she wasn't exactly known for her pathfinding ability. The last thing Faramund wanted was for her to fall; not that he would be able tell if she did, since the wind was loud enough to deafen the keenest of hearing.

Pressing himself flat against the stone at his back, Faramund hunkered down, gestured for Selene to do the same.

"Do you sense anything?" He asked, tugging at his scarf in an attempt to combat the biting cold. "Thought I saw something just now, but... hmm."

Selene

 

[Selene]

Aside from a lit flame, the snow was one of the worst things Selene could look at. The reflected light blinded her like a flame blinded a moth. She felt like a fluttery thing as the wind battered against her robes, but Faramund was a mindful companion, stopping his daylight pace periodically to check back on her.

She did not see the dark blur, but she felt the chill in the air, beyond what the altitude and snow could account for.

At the mouth of the cave, Selene was glad to stop, flattened against the stone as she was, relieved to look at something yawning. Faramund threw back a question at her over the wind, and Selene shouted across the short space between them in response.

"Spirits unable to move on, shocked into afterlife by an abrupt death." As if summoned - and perhaps it had been - an apparition of a hand reached out to the pair of them, shaking, imploring, and Selene reached back and grasped it gently in her own. "We can help them pass on by killing the beast that wronged them, and thus severing their anchor to this world." As she withdrew her hand, the colder-than-usual outline of some unfortunate soul scattered back into the wind.

"Strange though, for there to be so many." Selene did not provide an explanation past that. She also forgot to mention that she intended to go deeper in, as she took one step forward and wobbled past Faramund crouched against the cliffside. It was her turn to lead, with the sun soon out of the way.

Hands traced the cold-scraped edges of the cliff-become-cave, until she was far enough into the cave's mouth for battering wind to become a low and distrustful howl, and cutting snow merely a hiss against the rocks. A quiet dripping joined the band, perhaps from some pool or leaky spring deeper in.

Selene stopped some ways in and drank in the scene, letting her eyes readjust back to darkness. More than the wind howled, but she did not bother Faramund with such things, for it was the usual fare of vengeance or warnings or misplaced rage that wracked the broken minds of the dead. Quite a show, but usually spirits of this strength could not do much other than rattle their own dead bones. She was doubtful if Faramund could even sense their presence, or at least not the full scope of it.

There was nothing stopping him from getting a good whiff of that smell, though. It was warmer in the cave, and Selene could see the rest of the cow's carcass now, a bit chewed on but with plenty left to start rotting. Selene lifted the hem of her robes and stepped over something dark and slimy. "Messy eater," she said offhandedly.

Nevermind the bits in the cave that were not from cattle.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Faramund grunted. When all was said and done, an 'abrupt death' didn't sound so bad. Better that than a long, drawn out one, he thought, finally wrestling his scarf into submission. "Sounds good," he said, staring over Selene's shoulder at the dark wound carved into the mountain's flesh. Whatever awaited them within was long overdue a visit, all would agree.

Strange though, for there to be so many.

Falling in behind Selene as she made her way towards the mouth of the cave, the big dawnling made sure to loosen his sword in its scabbard. Up here, where the cold was permanent and death came abruptly, it made sense to make sure your weapons were ready. Inattention helped no-one except the enemy, Fara had learnt the hard way. Letting his weapons freeze where they rested was a good way to get both himself and Selene killed. He could live with the former, all things considered.

The latter... not so much.

Using the stone as a shield, Faramund followed his dusker partner into the cave. The clawing wind lost its grip on him the deeper he went, and before long he was free of its touch. The cold remained, duller now that the mountain had embraced them. Faramund took a lungful of frigid air, expelled it in one calm breath. "Cosy," he rumbled, smiling to himself as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The sun continued its steady rise beyond the cave's mouth, painting the entrance in ambient light.

Further in, light was at a premium. Hopefully Selene had a few tricks up her sleeve. Or some dry torches.

Waiting as his eyes grew accustomed to the black, Faramund resisted the urge to recoil as the smell of rotting flesh hit him all at once. "Messy eater," Selene commented in the same tone she would use to admonish a naughty squire. Spotting the carcass, Faramund affected a shrug. "We've seen worse." Taking a step towards the cow, the knight grimaced as his steps began to squish. The echo it made reminded Faramund of the sounds Brother Gylbert made after one too many.

Deep within the mountain's belly, a beast stirred.

Selene

 

[Selene]

Only a light hum left Selene in response to Faramund's comment. She was occupied instead with the waking up of the thing that slept under the base of the mountain. The echoing projections of mana-through-stone was difficult to pinpoint. She felt hot breath fighting against the cold, a rustling of fur or feathers, and hunger. Not much more.

She went deeper still, chasing those reverberations, ducking under icy stalactites and through narrow passages. It was good that the passages were narrow - the beast could only be so big, then. A few twists and turns, and the light from the mouth of the cave faded completely.

Suddenly, Selene stopped in the middle of the tunnel. "Oh," she said, bemusement coating her voice. "You can't see." Two taps of her staff, and a soft glow of lochlight remedied that. Pale blue rippled across the ceiling and walls, shifting in waves as Selene began to move again. The ice carried the light far, brightening an impressive stretch of space behind and before them.

Up ahead the passageway widened. Pillars of stone held together natural arches of the ceiling, and the stink of the carcasses at the entrance had faded some. For a moment the scenery was quiet and beautiful in the echoing cold - until the screeching started.

"Sounds like fogfiends. Can't be our beast," Selene said as the squall lessened into a ringing echo. "Merely scavengers picking at the leftovers."

She was still reaching for her blade, regardless. If the pack was big enough, even fogfiends could get awfully brave.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Fogfiends can still kill.' Faramund's voice echoed as he peered over Selene's shoulder, down the blue-black tunnel stretching before them. 'Mind you, a man's more likely to die from tripping over his own feet than he is to those things.' Smiling behind his scarf, he nodded Selene on. They had themselves a beast to find, after all. Easing his sword from it's scabbard, Faramund rested the darksteel blade in the cup of his left hand.

Up here, where the wild things crept and crawled, it didn't hurt to be cautious.

'On you,' he said, matching the Dusk Captain step for step as they proceeded down the tunnel. Walls of ice and rock glowed and shimmered as the lochlight hovered after them, bobbing on the winter wind that followed them down the tunnel. Cool, it did not cut the same way it had outside the mountain. Faramund considered that a blessing. Outside, where it's voice was loudest, the wind could flense a man's skin from his bones.

Not all the time, thankfully. Some days were worse than others. The two knights had timed their climb just right, or else gotten lucky. Given how nature could be sometimes, Faramund reckoned luck had played a bigger part.

Crunching along, his footsteps masked by Selene's, Faramund readied himself as the tunnel began to open out into a wider chamber. Stalactites glistened like diamonds in the mage-light. Sharpened by time and exposure, they looked much like a field of spears to Faramund as he looked up, his eyes flashing white as they caught the lochlight.

Beyond the reach of magic, something screamed.

'Sounds like our scavengers are shit out of luck.' Stepping up next to Selene, Faramund cast his gaze towards the darkness barring their path. The agonised screams of a dying fogfiend coming from beyond the light's reach made his hairs stand on end until, quite suddenly, they stopped.

The silence that followed was just as terrifying, just as deafening.

'Did I ever tell you I'm afraid of the dark?' he asked, his smile fading.

Selene

 

[Selene]

'Did I ever tell you I'm afraid of the dark?' Faramund asked.

"I have a trick for that, actually. Just pretend you're swimming. Here, give it a try." Without waiting for his confirmation, Selene tapped her staff once on the ground, and the lochlight faded. The cave fell once more to darkness. Silence prevailed. Only what noise breath and voice made was discernible, as Selene spoke.

"When you first plunge into cold water, the limbs seize up, the eyes close shut, the mind goes blank, and every part of the chest is urging to take a breath that isn't there."

It was too cold for dripping water or falling stones. Only the dead pressure of the air filled their ears.

"But, hold on to that breath, and let the cold pass through. The feeling of your fingertips will come back to you. The weight of your arms. The brush of fabric against your neck. Then, you might open your eyes, and discover that you can see."

Selene drew her blade. Her footsteps made a soft crunching sound against the frozen debris of the cave floor. From far ahead, in caverns over, came growls and whimpers and clacking claws scraping frantically at the ice. Things scurried toward them, their approach turning from echo to location.

"Hold position." This time, not merely advice, but an order.

The fogfiends could be seen by the glow of their bellies. Six or seven rounded an invisible corner, padding towards them on long, galloping strides. They slavered at the mouth, bloodied scratches marring already patchy fur. And then, as soon as the pack's path crossed theirs, the fiends split to avoid collision. Blind with fear, they bolted past the two knights with nary a snap of their teeth.

 

[Faramund]

'Wait! Hold on just a-' The lights went out, plunging the knights into complete darkness. Inhaling sharply, Syr Faramund wrestled with the sudden urge to run. His sabre, a reassuring weight in his hand, came to rest on his shoulder as he put his back to the wall. Though it was silent in the passage, he could hear his heart beating in his chest, its rhythm ramping up as he looked left, right.

Selene's voice echoed from the pitch black surrounding him, pressing in from all sides. Calm, but far from comforting, her words left the dawnling wishing he was someplace else. Somewhere where the waters were warm, and the days long.

A place where there were no mountains, no monsters in need of a-killing, and no bloody duskers waiting to scare him into an early grave.

'That's nice and all,' Faramund replied, cold constricting his throat, like the touch of death. 'But... I can't swim,' he revealed, looking to Selene as he did. Or at least to where he had last seen her. Given the way noise seemed to travel in this infernal place, she had likely moved on without him by now, leaving him to combat his fears alone.

Faramund wouldn't have put it past her.

Taking a deep breath, the knight closed his eyes, tried to control his breathing. He could hear things more clearly now. The shuffle of feet as Selene repositioned. The distant scratching of claw on stone. The yip and howl of beasts running in fear. A faint glow appeared, pushing back the suffocating darkness.

Opening his eyes, Faramund turned to regard the fogfiends as they charged down the tunnel towards him. Bellies the white-blue of lochlight heaved as they pushed and pulled at each other, struggling to get out in front of the pack. One, smaller than the rest, howled at Faramund as it barrelled past. Their eyes met.

For a brief moment, the knight saw his own fear reflected back at him. Then the fiend was gone, disappearing up the tunnel they had used to gain entry. They took the half-light with them. Sighing, Faramund stepped away from the stone guarding his back, moved to protect Selene's.

'Now might be a good time to... uh, you know.'

Selene

 

[Selene]

As Faramund attempted to calm his breath behind her, Selene felt a prickle of doubt tighten the back of her throat. Of course she wouldn't have put one of her knights in any real danger, but the uncertainty that constricted his voice caught her by surprise. In the privacy of the darkness, her brows furrowed.

Could the man really not swim?

The sound of the fogfiend's footsteps lessened to plinging echoes against the ice as they, presumably, bolted for the entrance. Selene felt - and saw, with those strange eyes of hers - Faramund move away from the cave wall and find her again. She stopped her moving and let him find her in the dark, which he managed to do.

'Now might be a good time to... uh, you know.'

"Just a moment longer," Selene said, her voice still calm. "I've figured out what sort of monster we're facing off against. Though heavens knows what an ice wyrm is doing this far South." Semi-blind cousins to dragons, ice wyrms were native to the Northern ranges of the Spine, not the Valen. But how it got there was a mystery that could be solved later. More pressing to the two knights - ice wyrms hated light, and frothed into a rage at so much as a bonfire. "We'll meet it here. When I blind it, you take the opportunity to strike."

They would not have long to prepare. Stilling her breath, Selene gripped her longsword and her staff together in both hands. A scaly belly scraping through some dark passage, the cold, heavy snuffling of a long-snouted beast. Then, she felt the bulk of the beast crash through and into the hollow space before them.

The tip of Selene's staff lit up more brightly than before, and in the same sudden moment a great slavering jaw came out of the darkness, silvery spit dripping from double rows of teeth. With a grunt of effort, Selene caught the jaws on her sword. Teeth tried to clamp down on metal. The light flared around them, turning burning white. The wyrm shrieked, and backed away, snapping its jaws and thrashing its spiked tail erratically. It cowered for but a moment, shielding its eyes with the twisted claws of two of its many limbs.

"Faramund, now!"

 

[Faramund]

"Just a moment longer," she said, and just like that, Syr Faramund found his heart racing again. "I've figured out what sort of monster we're facing off against. Though heavens knows what an ice wyrm is doing this far South." Holding his sabre low, the dawnling twisted to look over the Dusk Captain's head.

He had never fought an Ice Wyrm before, let alone seen one. But if it was anything like its distant cousin, the Lindwurm, it would surely be a right pain in the arse to take down.

Heeding Selene's instruction, the big knight sighed, nodded. He found the dark to be stifling despite the chill in the air. He understood just why he had been chosen for this hunt, but even so... 'Aye aye,' he said, quiet voice echoing in the darkness. Reaching up, his chainmail rustling, the knight untied the knot holding his cloak in place.

Shrugging it from his shoulders, Faramund proceeded to take a vial from a pouch at his belt. With no light to see by, he had to make an educated guess as to where he poured it. Holding his curved blade horizontally. Faramund began to pour the rotgut extract onto the weapon.

Slowly at first, he made sure to coat the whole blade, careful not to waste any. The shit burnt like a lit fire if you got it on you, and could eat its way through exposed flesh like the hungry beast he had drained it from.

Tilting the sabre, he listened as the oil ran down to the cutting edge, began to patter around his feet. The mountain's howl was a dull screeching in his right ear, but in his left-

Slithering. A rattle of bones disturbed. A slight hissing that may have been caused by the beast's passing, or the beast itself.

Placing a reassuring hand on the Captain's shoulder, Faramund readied himself for the moment. If Selene was right -and she usually was- he would only have a few seconds in which to utilize the element of surprise. Faramund had been in the business long enough to know just how effective surprise could be.

The moment was on them in a flash. Literally. Barrelling forwards and to the right, the big knight slipped in low as the wyrm reeled back. His own vision had barely adapted to the sudden ball of blinding white Selene had summoned. Unlike the wyrm, however, he had known it was coming.

Cutting diagonally across his body, Faramund ran his sabre through the scales on the underside of the beast's long neck. The Ice Wyrm screamed as white turned to red. Lashing out with its whole body, the wyrm contorted itself away from the two knights.

Even backing up it was fast! Too fast, almost.

Keeping his blade moving, Faramund rotated his wrist, whirled it about and down in another diagonal cut. He felt more than saw the sabre's edge bite guarded flesh. Sharp, it solicited another scream from the wyrm. Retaliation came sooner than Faramund expected.

Punching out with its tail, the wyrm struck Faramund in the chest hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. Something cracked as he was flung backwards, away from the light. Landing on his back, the knight swore as pain sunk its teeth into him.

Further down the tunnel, the wyrm hissed as it came back for another go.

Selene

 

[Selene]

The wyrm was fast, and mad as it flung Faramund away with a swipe of its tail. She felt the knight go down, felt the wind knocked of him. Her own gut tightened as he breathed out misty pain into the cold air.

Selene cut the light and cloaked them in darkness again. Staff and sword split, one in each hand. She moved, first in circling steps, then at a full run as the wyrm pulled its full weight down the tunnel. There wouldn't be any time to check on Faramund. The Dawn knight would have to fend for himself for a moment.

The wooden bangle around Selene's wrist knocked against the hilt of her sword. She could use that power... the druid Elinyra had controlled an aspect of her corruption, without losing her wits. Surely there would be few consequences for letting loose on a maddened monster well outside of its own territory.

No, her own resolve answered the wayward thought. Selene didn't know what had become of the druid... and she didn't know what would become of her.

Boots slid to a stop in the gravel, and she reeled to face the beast. The wound that Faramund had dealt seemed to hurt it. Two of the legs on that side curled close against its side, and its movements had slowed, blood dripping darkly from the cut. The tip of Selene's staff lit up as she raised it again.

"Come on," she growled out, dark eyes borrowing some of that blue light. "One more time."

The beast obliged. It lunged at the staff, clamping down on the bone-white material with its jaws. The wound in the wyrm's throat dripped from its own exertion. A thrust upward, and she dug her blade into that same spot, feeling the beast's muscles contort away from the fresh pain. Selene cried out when the ice wyrm pulled away and took the staff with it, wrenching her shoulder. She stumbled backwards, arm loose at her side.

Scrambling against the edge of the cave in frenzied steps, the wyrm snapped the staff in two. Everything went dark again.

 

[Faramund]

Faramund struggled to catch his breath. Caught in the dark, his sword gone, bones possibly broken, the big man did all he could to find his feet. At first he tried to sit up. When that didn't work, he rolled over onto his front, used his hands as supports.

A second or two and he was on his knees, scrabbling around for a weapon he thought lost to him. It had been Merrycourt's, once upon a time, but now it was his. He had hoped to honour her memory by carrying it into battle with him. One day, he hoped to avenge her with it.

Right now, however, vengeance was starting to look like the most distant of dreams.

Or nightmares, Faramund thought, grimacing as he braced himself against the natural curve of the tunnel. His foot brushed something familiar, and he stooped to get a closer look, wincing as he did. 'Ah, there you are!' Grabbing Merrycourt's sabre by the hilt, Faramund straightened as the wyrm clawed its way back into the light. A quick inspection told him the blade wasn't broken.

Not like him, anyway.

'Ah, there you are!' Turning, Faramund smiled toothily as the fiend-killer came to claim his corpse. Playing his part, the knight stepped forward. Selene was facing off with it now, and Faramund did not wish for her to face it alone. Using his freehand to shield his eyes, he made his way to the dusker's side, stayed there as she worked her magic.

Light flared as the Dusk Captain raised her staff. She said something that Faramund didn't quite hear over the din. Not that it mattered; her words weren't for him. The wyrm's jaws latched shut around the offered stave and, now that it was distracted, the dusker took the opportunity to close in with her blade.

Blood splashed the stone at Faramund's feet as the beast spasmed, fell back.

Giving chase, the knight swung his blade at the wyrm's trailing foreleg. Impact jarred his arm as he cut through muscle and sinew to ground against bone. Screaming, the wyrm reacted by tightening its jaws around the staff it had stolen. Raising his eyes, Faramund realised his mistake a second before it caught up with him.

'Oh-' the knight managed, falling silent as the tunnel was plunged once more into darkness.

Selene

 

[Selene]

The wyrm scrabbled desperately, its stout forelegs trying desperately to pull the thorn of Selene's sword out of its side. Broken, her staff clattered at its feet.

"Oh no," Selene exclaimed. There was almost never any surprise in her voice; the inflection sounded odd on her. "That staff belonged to my master. It's the only thing keeping my dark powers at bay!" A mad grin split across her face, not seen in the dark. She snickered at her own joke. "Just kidding."

She snapped her fingers. A cold light without source illuminated the entire cave. Blue bounced off the thick stalactites lining the ceiling, casting everything in a menacing hue. The ice wyrm, confronted with a light that it could not eat, made to retreat deeper into the depths of the caves. Selene would not allow it.

She raised her good hand. Her sword rattled and strained against the creature's hardened flesh. And then, with a horrible sound - something like the squish of mud and the crack of branch underfoot - the beast's head came clean off. Is many eyes bulged, as the head thudded, and rolled.

Hovering above the beast's severed neck, was the hundred gleaming splinters of Selene's blade. Those clattered to the cave floor as well, in a chiming spray of sound.

Selene turned her back to the gruesome sight. Behind her, the body slumped with one last shudder. The peculiar smile from before was gone, and when Selene looked to Faramund it was with her usual composure. Except a tad more out of breath.

"Don't tell anyone else I can do that," she panted out. She grimaced as she poked at her injured shoulder. "I'll never hear the end of it."

 

[Faramund]

The lights came back on abruptly, blinding Faramund. Backing up, he tripped and fell on his arse as the wyrm continued to thrash wildly. Bleeding profusely, the creature shook its neck from side to side, tried pulling the blade free with the foreleg still capable of movement. Blood splashed across Fara's boots as something crunched.

Blinking, the knight looked up in time to see the beast's head come away.

Spinning, the wyrm's pain-twisted maw fell towards Faramund as he crabbed his way backwards. Bouncing after him, it landed in his lap with a loud thud. What the fuck? he thought, pretty sure that the wyrm had been thinking exactly the same thing just a moment ago.

Finding his feet, Faramund let the disembodied head roll away. The stench of blood clogged his nostrils, made him feel... queasy. 'How-' he began, his mind struggling to find the words. "Don't tell anyone else I can do that," said Selene, breathless but otherwise alive. "I'll never hear the end of it."

Staring at the ice wyrm's twitching corpse, Faramund felt laughter bubbling up from his gut. Of course, when it arrived, he damn near threw up. 'Your secret's safe with me,' he replied, his voice strangled by pain. 'And, no, that's not your cue to shiv me, though, God knows that might prove a surer solution to my aches and pains.' He laughed again, this time without the acrid taste of bile filling his throat.

Nursing his chest, the dawnling sheathed his sabre. Walking over to the severed head, he picked it up, biting back a groan as his bones complained. He turned to Selene. 'Mission... accomplished?' he asked, not entirely sure he was up for another scrap given the circumstances.

 

[Selene]

Muscles rolled and joints popped as Selene rotated her shoulder back into a respectable place. The light dimmed to near dusk, her eyes closed in focus. A low hum of magic circled and coalesced within her shoulder, stitching back together what was torn. When it was done, she let go with an exhale - a cold breath that did not frost in the air.

The cave brightened again. She looked over to Faramund, who was holding the beast's head between his mitts.

"Mission accomplished," Selene repeated him, confirming his question. She watched the man as he struggled, noticed which one of his ribs was fractured. Left side, about halfway up. No damage to the spine. "If you don't count count going back down the mountain, that is."

The beast was lying on its belly, hot blood already cooling against the ground. Selene crouched down and tried to roll the body onto its side. Tugging at one of its many caterpillar limbs, she managed to heave the bulk of the beast about halfway. Her muscles strained, reaching a plateau of strength. Then she slumped against the body and lost her progress, footing slipped.

She closed her eyes. Breathed. Pulled up whatever stamina was left in cold limbs. A captain had to be stronger than this. So Selene turned around and put her back into it. This time, the wyrm's limp form shifted, and its belly was exposed. While the back hide of the beast was craggy and mottled, the underside was a smooth, glimmering sheen of pearlescent scales.

"Wyrm blood is a good catalyst. Might even be able to get through your thick skin and heal you with it," Selene explained after she had caught her breath for the third time. Her fingers traced invisible lines along the beast's belly, plotting out where to cut. "Need to borrow your sword, though."

Black eyes looked to Faramund, neither warm nor cold. "Don't worry. I won't break it this time."

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Oh, almost forgot about that part,' Faramund replied, forcing a smile. Holding his grisly trophy aloft, the knight turned the wyrm's head to face him. Rows of serrated teeth glistened like shards of ice in the lochlight, and Faramund shuddered as he thought of what would have happened had he been on the receiving end of those beauties. Or maybe it was the cold making him shiver?

Aye, probably that.

Tossing the wyrm's head aside so that it bounced and rolled away, the big dawnling followed Selene over to the body. Watching, he raised an eyebrow as the dusker tried to roll the body onto its side. 'Need a hand?' he offered, one arm protecting his ribs as he leaned down to help Selene up. The Captain was a stubborn one though. Wordlessly, she changed tact, threw her back into it instead.

Using the shoulder on his uninjured side, Faramund tensed and heaved with her, a growl escaping his lips as his muscles were put to the task. Deadweight, the wyrm resisted them even in death. Without a head, however, its fighting days were pretty much done.

With a scrape and a twitch, the wyrm fell onto its side, exposing the scales Fara had seen earlier. Selene said something, and he listened, ever attentive of what his superior had to say. 'You reckon?' He wondered aloud, his expression growing thoughtful as he made to draw his blade. The promise that followed sealed the deal.

'All right, then,' he said, pulling his steel. Reversing his grip on the hilt, Faramund offered it to her. 'Be gentle,' he warned, 'treat it like you would a lover and you and I will be just fine.' He paused, frowned. 'Actually, on second thought... perhaps its best you didn't.'

Selene

 

[Selene]

The sword was offered to her. Selene reached out, but her hand hesitated, tips of her fingers hovering above the hilt. Faramund said something to her, but she barely heard. There was a pounding in her ears, like a rush of water, a cold pressure that threatened to fill her lungs.

Merrycourt's blade.

With a sudden movement, she grabbed at the hilt, and pulled the blade firmly away from Faramund's grasp. The pounding stopped, and the Dawn knight's words came back to her. She forced a smile, dark eyes still lost in whatever feeling welled up within her.

"It's not the sword you should be asking me to be gentle with," she said, expression falling into something placid. "Now, take your armor and your overcoat off. They'll get ruined."

She turned back to her work. One palm pressed against the belly of the beast. The other raised Merrycourt's blade up high, plunged it into the soft, glistening scales. Hot steam poured out, as viscera squelched across the icy ground. Selene set the sword down - gently, like Faramund had asked. Undoing clasps and ties, she slipped out of the top part of her cloak until her arms were bare. Then she dug into that wet mess, up to the shoulders.

Something snapped inside of the beast, and a part of its chest deflated. Selene came away with a white sliver of bone clutched in one hand. A rib. She picked the sword back up, stood, and turned to face Faramund.

"Well?" She asked, an eyebrow quirked up expectantly, blood dripping off her elbows. "Would you believe me if I said this won't hurt at all?"

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Selene's reply didn't exactly fill him with confidence. On the contrary, Faramund couldn't help but dread what lay in store for him. Thankfully, the lochlight was just the right shade of pale to hide his nerves. 'Yes, ma'am,' he replied, peeling off his gloves. Slick with wyrm blood, they squelched as he threw them down on a nearby rock shelf. Removing his sword belt, he began to doff his armour. The pain in his chest grew as he lifted the mail from his shoulders.

Hope you know what you're doing, he told himself. He trusted Selene, but strange concoctions using wyrm blood? Magic? No, definitely not.

Alas, his choices were limited and the strain on his ribs great. Sighing, his breath steaming in the frigid cold of the mountain tunnels, Faramund placed his armour aside, slipped out of his gambeson. Selene said something, and Faramund smiled. 'Not for a minute,' he spoke deep, his eyes alighting on the blade and salvaged rib bone. 'Which one do you intend to heal me with?' He asked, his smile turning into a shit-eating grin as he pointed to his weapon.

'That'd do the job, sure as sure. Want me to kneel whilst you apply it to the nape of my neck?' His eyes shimmered as the ball of lochlight came to hover a few feet above his head. Looking up, Faramund tilted his head. Vicious-looking stalactites covered the roof of the cave. Had any been knocked loose or damaged during the fight? If so, one of them falling on him would prove just as sure a cure.

He shrugged, met Selene's eye. It didn't matter one way or the other what happened. So long as the pain went away.

'All right then.' The knight took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come. 'Let's get this over with.'

Selene

 

[Selene]

"You can kneel if you like," Selene mused. Twisting the point of Merrycourt's sword downward into her hand, she stepped forward, until she was close to Faramund. Pressed the blade against his chest, and waited for him to grab onto the hilt. She reached up and patted his cheek, not seeming to pay attention to what the man was grumbling about. Dark eyes glinted as a soft smile touched the corners of her lips. "After this, we really need to teach you to swim."

Leaving a bloody handprint behind, Selene dropped her arm and turned her focus downwards. Through his shirt, she poked her fingers across his side in much the same way that she had done with the wyrm, looking for the tender and swollen place where the break would be. She found it, and pressed the rib against his rib.

"Spirits of the ice and gale,
We have won against your champion,"

Her voice echoed in the hollow chamber, distorted as is bounced off the spines of ice above them. The lochlight flickered, uneven. Invisible things twisted and crawled at the two knight's feet, kicking up gravel and ice in a dusty spray of crystal.

"Give us the strength of this kill,
as is the law of your domain."

The bone in her hand would liquefy and crumble, eaten away by an invisible force. Selene pressed her now empty palm firmly against Faramund's side. The flesh there would heat up, as a rune etched itself into the back of her palm, bleeding black in the cool light.

"Let us take what we need,
as is the law of ours."

The last echoes of the spell fell to the sound of howling wind and snow, clawing its way into the caves from outside. Abruptly, Selene released her grip on Faramund, stumbling backwards. She fell flat on her ass, hands shaking, breath hitched as burning cold air filled her lungs with each gasp.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'You offering?' Faramund wiggled his eyebrows, displacing the frost that had built up there during the climb. All things considered, he was a lucky man. Not only had he survived an ice wyrm attack, he had also managed to get Selene to smile. If it weren't for the lochlight, I would barely have noticed. Sheathing his blade, Faramund did as he said he would, kneeling to make things easier.

Selene reached out in a whisper of robes to touch the beast's rib bone to his.

Grimacing at its touch, Faramund watched the captain closely as she began to chant. Magic had always been beyond the realm of possibility for the dawnling, but that wasn't to say he didn't appreciate it from time to time. Like right now, he thought, feeling a strange sensation fill his lungs as he let out a breath. A benign touch prickled his skin, left the fine hairs standing on edge.

Whatever mountain spirits Selene spoke to listened for a time. But like the mortals who lived in the land below, their attention was fleeting.

The pain in Faramund's ribs ebbed slightly as the wyrm's bone crumbled to nothingness. It did not go away entirely, however, and before long it had returned. 'Well, it was worth a try,' Faramund's voice echoed in the dark. Looking up at Selene, his pained smile faded as she took a step back. 'Selene?'

Blinking, Fara's eyes widened in shock as the dusker began to fall.

Throwing himself forwards, Faramund stretched out his arms to catch her. 'Selene!' he cried out, concern for his comrade helping him ignore the stabbing pain in his chest as he caught her, lowered her gently to the ground. 'You okay? What's wrong?' Taking a knee, the knight looked her over. There were no physical marks to speak of besides that on the back of her hand.

Understanding constricted his lungs. He sat down in front of her.

'Don't know about you,' he said, 'but today just keeps getting better and better.'

Selene

 

[Selene]

For a moment, everything in the world that wasn't Faramund's arms spun around her. The cave dipped into a blackness that sapped her strength and bit into her memory. Blindly, Selene reached out for some kind of hold on consciousness.

What she found was a hollow shape, all the pieces of a man but with something like the glue missing. The magic fueled by the wyrm falling through the cracks. And there, what lay beyond the rubble...

It was as if the mana had nothing to stick to. But surely Faramund had flesh and blood and a ribcage, surely he did. No, the missing thing was so intrinsic to Selene that she did not notice its absence. If she had know to look for it, she would have noticed.

Selene came to, the cold reality of the cave floor stirring her back to the waking world. Shuddering, she pushed herself up to a seated position, found that Faramund was next to her. Vision came back to her, and then it came back to the rest of the cave as the lochlight regained its strength.

"Today just keeps getting better and better..."

Selene looked sideways at the man in the dark, pinpricks of blue glinting in her eyes. "Suppose that means your rib is still cracked." Grunting, Selene put a hand on her knee and pushed herself up. She noticed the mark on her hand. Lost a moment in her own thoughts, she stood looking down at the rune of Death. Brushed her other thumb over the wound, and stopped its bleeding.

Then, she looked back to Faramund, already moved past the failure of the spell. "Let us start a fire and rest here the night. Even if those fogfiends come back, I'd rather deal with them than the storm."