Fat Tree and Lucas' bodies are intertwined from the remnants of a glorious gory battle. Lucas' forearm has menacingly driven itself deeper into Fat Tree's neck from their collapse.
After a few minutes go by, Fat Tree blinks awake. He's weak and in greater pain than he's ever been since his undeath. Confusion overwhelms him but instinct takes course and he rips the jutted bone from his esophagus, coughing and spitting out congealed blood all over the forest floor. He looks at Lucas for a moment and his blood freezes over, the kid looks like an absolute mess.
Frantically, Fat Tree finds Lucas' dagger and slices his finger open. He drizzles his blood over Lucas' damaged face and arm before bandaging them with leaves.
"Good", he thinks, "That keeps him alive until Mama can patch him all good as new. Just like me." He viscously nods his head desperately affirming his own plan. He tries not to think of Swiftblade and what her reaction to this will be.
An unlucky young buck becomes the prey that sustains Fat Tree. Gorging himself, Fat Tree's wounds mend themself fully. Fat Tree still hasn't noticed that the sliver of red moon that should have been sustaining him has disappeared, and the naturally green moon, Altuor, beats down. Grabbing Lucas, he makes his way back to where Swiftblade should be wrapping up her long awaited revenge. With great malice, Fat Tree thinks, "I hope Bladey carves him up, hungry, hungry, hungry."
The jostling rouses me, the pain in my face and arm have greatly subsided, but my ribs ache with a fervor. I'm bound and barely able to see as my vision keeps going in and out of focus.
Clip, clop. Clip, clop.
The speed of movement and the jostling intensify. Are we being chased by something?
Clip, clop. Clip, clop.
A blinding painful white light erupts from behind me. It forces my eyes into focus. Is that Artemis? No, it can't be.
Artemis couldn't catch this monster, she didn't have such intricately beautiful silver armor. Her white wings reaching out to a 16 foot wingspan. But my life in the stables gives me a connection. I know it's her. She races, her hooves slamming into... the air??? Artemis hovers a foot off the ground and she snorts in air, charging in a beeline towards me.
The monster must know this now, he bobs and weaves, cutting through the forest like an assassin, but to no avail. The bright glowing light follows his every move carving through the forest, illuminating the perfect path for Artemis.
I finally understand. Standing on Artemis' back, there is a short woman with long flowing blue and grey robes. A tall, pointy hat with a circular wide brim sits on her head. Her hair falls to her shoulders, cut in uneven disorganized layers. She holds a staff taller than she is by at least 2 feet, made of a beautiful ivory wood embroidered with countless precious sapphires into the knot that rests at the top. The sapphires flash as lights dance, in and out of each gem, creating a cacophony of blue hues and flashing glyphs to scatter throughout the air around this mysterious figure.
She glares towards not me, but the creature holding me. Her eyes are fiercely intelligent and brimming with life. The lights, the hues, even the glyphs all begin to dance to the same rhythm, coming together as a beautiful visual symphony. On cue, she raises the staff and her free hand together, into the air.
She begins to chant,
"Moonlight guide my blessings true,I call for strength and aid from you,turn your green light into flame,I call for lightning, chains, and pain"
A wonderful storm emanating directly from each and every sapphire rips it's way into the world. I've never seen such wonder before, my eyes widen in utter joy and awe.
Chains made of pure electricity spark in every direction. They wind around trees, pop up from the ground, and even descend from the sky. Each chain link is lined with barbs of various lengths, spanning from small bumps to several inch spikes.
The creature tosses me aside and runs for his life.
But just before I slam into the ground the chains wrap around my body, I brace for the spikes. But I'm met with a delicate embrace, the barbs melts away and the chains feel unnaturally warm. The pain in my entire body eases into nothing.
But she's not stopping. I look down, the chains are still very much wrapped around me. I look up, she's still not stopping. I can see now that the lengths of my chains are connected to the bejeweled knot at the top of her staff. That length is very much running out now.
Look lady, I appreciate you saving me from my undead apprenticeship, but I cannot be treated this way. It's unjust.
I watch as Artemis gallops away, unfazed. The lady on her back is scanning the surroundings for signs of that wickedly quick bulbous undead. Caring not for a lost soul such as myself. A mere novice is no such concern for an expert wizard.
I'm airborne. Sir Kahlin will never believe how an older woman swept me off my feet. Well, her magical lightning chains did. Which may be even better in his sadistic book. The chains seem to be automatically reeling me in, which is good, since I'm going to give this lady a fucking earful.
Rattles of metal sound off in the distance.
CLANG, PING, SHRRRRRRK, CLANG
Swiftblade has just sent off Fat Tree. She slowly stalks down her prey, ecstasy flowing pure in her veins. She approaches with great caution and her rapier drawn.
The scene is the aftermath of chaos. Her vampire slaves have been reduced to charred corpses strewn around the remains of a once regal carriage. Splintered wood shards scatter the ground. Inside what is left of the wheel-less wooden box is her target.
Sir Kahlin is panting, his knee aches from the exertion. He thinks regretfully, "Damned age, wasted all my prime on the laziest, most out of touch, asshole to ever seize everything he could want. All of that, just to die here, for his stupid brat." He's seen these spawn only once before. The infamous Raid of Krushikan, the capital city and home to the esteemed King of the Darkathi Kingdom. It was the day Sir Kahlin fell from grace.
He winces as he pulls himself up from the carriage floor, using his sword butt as leverage against the brittle wood. Hobbling outside he finds himself enraptured with her elegance once again. "Miss Lucille Everflown, what a pleasure to meet you here."
Swiftblade spits back, "Sir Luther Kahlin, I'd hoped you would know by now not to call a woman by her alive name. I'm only ever referred to as Swiftblade now. The Everflown family has long since met their demise, thanks to you."
Her rage is visceral. Swiftblade can't help but continue to wave her rapier through the air imagining all the sweet and pleasurable ways it could poke through Sir Kahlin's vital organs.
Finding himself at a lose for words and desperately trying to suppress memories of the past, Sir Luther Kahlin presses forward first. His swordplay is light, balanced, and well-measured. He knows the precise techniques to use while fighting against a rapier. Especially a rapier using the esteemed and honored Everflown technique.
PING, KRSH, CLACK
An unnerving sensation creeps up his spine. To suppress it, he taunts Luci-. Swiftblade. "You say you're remade, a different name, a new master. Yet you use the exact same technique as the day you died."
CLACK, SRIIIIIING, FWOOSH
Swiftblade strides backwards letting Sir Kahlin's blade catch nothing but the smoke and air. She smiles deeply and replies, "Good, good. I'm so glad you're this feisty. It's never any fun, killing a half-dead man. I love the fight." At this, Swiftblade enters a new stance. She crouches low, jutting out her shoulders and knees, extending her rapier as far as her arm will go, and continues, "Mother Death put my old teachings to rest. Just like my old self. She helped me embrace my strengths. Something the Everflown family could never do. I pray you've enjoyed the warmup."
Swiftblade quickly goes on the offensive, her rapier now slashing and parrying through anything Sir Kahlin can scramble together. She pushes him back.
THUMP
A large grin appears on her face.
Sir Kahlin has been pushed back into a tree. With nowhere to go, he must stand his ground.
PING, SKRRRRRNG, FWASH, AUURGH
The rapier pokes Sir Kahlin in the stomach, his bad knee crumples and he falls to the ground. The flames of his sword sputter out. Darkness falls over Sir Luther Kahlin.
Mockingly, Swiftblade laughs and cries out, "It's so pathetic how weak humans are. Just bags of liquid. I poke a hole in just the right place and all you can do is leak and die."
And then there was light.
Swiftblade completely shocked, stammers, "W-what?? But that was Mother's red moon spell. Who in the hells?"
Fat Tree returned. Empty handed. But Swiftblade knew her rage must wait. She looks to Fat Tree for answers. There's none.
Clip, clop. Clip, clop.
Swiftblade looks around for the source of the noise, for the source of the light, and for hell's sake the source of the bastard who would dare to interrupt her masterful plans.
Clip, clop. Clip, clop.
Swiftblade sinks, "Oh for fuck's sake, it's the Moonlit Maiden." She hops into Fat Tree's arms and they vanish into the night.