We take our time heading back, fearing Vila’s wrath. A friendly cow lumbers over to us, and tonguing toward our hands — as if we have anything better to offer than the cornucopia all around. Svelgi seems frightened of the huge beast at first, but when it starts gently butting her, petitioning for food, she giggles.
“Sorry you didn’t get the Temple you wanted,” she says. “I heard you guys talking back there. I kept wanting to say hello to you but I just, y’know.”
“So did you always want to be in Diligence?” I ask.
“I was never sure. But now that I’m here, I like this place. I think it suits me.” She looks at the ground, somehow gives the impression of blushing through her brunette fur. “I’m glad you’re here too, Hattie, even though you didn’t get what you wanted.”
Diligence suddenly isn’t seeming so bad, to be honest. Before I can reply, though, the vision takes me.
A thorn peels itself from a high branch. Low to the ground it skitters. The thum-thum-thum of its thousand feet along the forest floor beats like a headache. It melts over a bulbous root, body slithering in two halves, reforming with the bubble of tar. Its stomach roils; it threatens to vomit from four black mouths.
Its fury carries it forward, coiling round the bony leg. It hears the gulp-gulp-gulp of drained blood and wrenches itself up the porch, screeching in terror and pain.
The door splinters beneath its shifting form. It leaps at Katarina, propels her through the window with a scream that drowns out the shattering of glass. They fall, together, to the ground, twisting like an eagle and a snake. The impact of their landing echoes through the forest, scatters squawking birds from the trees; the centipede pins Katarina with a hundred feet.
Mathilde, bleeding from two perfect punctures at her throat, jumps from the window — but as she drops, the creatures tail petrifies, becomes a sharp wooden shard. It finds Katarina’s heart, and the vampyr withers to dust.
A furious howl sings through the woods, and Mathilde’s body starts shaking, mutating, shedding. The honey coloured wolf that slams into the centipede is just as huge and terrifying as I remember.
My eyes open and Svelgi’s soft face is leaning over me, pink nose twitching. I groan. Was that… even real?
“Are you okay, Hattie?”
“No. Listen, Svelgi… is it possible for werewolves to transform during the day?”
She blinks. “I- I think so. If adrenaline levels are high enough, well, the body does what it needs to protect itself. Why are you-”
“I have to go out into the woods to help Katarina.” I dig my hands into my hair. “Godsdamnit, I’m gonna end up with another black mark. Svelgi, you should go back to the others. I don’t want you getting in trouble over this too.”
Her nose is still twitching as I push to my feet. “You said Katarina’s in trouble?”
I shake my head because there’s no time to explain. “If you hurry you can say you tried to stop us.”
I set out at a run toward the broken gate, heart racing. Seeing Katarina turned to dust like that… going from being a person to being nothing at all- I can’t let that happen. I have to get to her.
Twigs scratch uselessly at my hard skin as I tear through the forest.
“Ow!” comes the soft voice from behind me.
“Svelgi? What are you doing?” I don’t have time to slow down.
It’s surprising how easily the bunny keeps up with my pace. “She’s Blaze’s team leader. I have to go.”
“You should go back.” She’s doing the right thing, but how much help could she be against that thing?
How much help could YOU be against that thing? But there’s no time to worry. I’ve seen the future, and that means I can change it.
Svelgi doesn’t reply, just follows at a sprint until we come upon the cabin. Everything’s calm. Quiet. Almost serene. Looks like we made it in time.
The window smashes and I’m sprinting before they’ve even hit the ground. “Stay back,” I shout, though I doubt Svelgi needs me to say it — she must be terrified, seeing the monster for the first time. Having witnessed what happens if I fail, I know there’s no room to, and I square my shoulder for a tackle.
I slam into the creature. The tail misses Katarina’s heart and spikes through her shoulder before, a second later, squelching free with a sickening sound. Mathilde hits the ground behind me and forms a blade of fire in her hand. “Back!” she shouts, waving it before her.
The centipede thing chitters, rearing up to its full, terrible height, top legs clacking against each other. Is it trying to communicate?
“It’s angry that Katarina fed on you,” I cry, the creature’s knowledge and emotion crashing into me like a wave.
Mathilde looks back at Katarina, sprawled on the ground. “A girl can’t do a friend a favour?” she asks, gaze lingering.
The flexuous black carapace shudders in fury. Blasphemy, I feel, writhing somewhere in my head. With that, it lunges toward Mathilde, who brings her flaming blade down savagely. The thing splits in two, inches away from the sword. It flows around Mathilde’s figure like river water round a stone, reforming-
Before it gets the chance, though, I grab one of the halves. The things flesh is cold and hard, its countless legs slash into me as it flails. The other half of the centipede ignores me, abandoning its right side to lunge again toward Katarina. Mathilde’s flaming sword, flying through the air, splits the things head in two as I struggle with its twin.
The thing droops for a moment, but then its head reforms, and it spins savagely on Mathilde. She shears it clean in two again, but this time the two sides continue their momentum, slamming into her shoulder and knocking her to the ground. They dissolve into inky black streaming up her arms and down her legs, solidifying once more into manacles around her wrists and ankles. The surplus flies at me, rejoining with the body in my grip.
Katarina, bright blood in her cheeks and lips, hisses. She charges forward; the thing’s tail petrifies and I bring my foot down on it just in time to stop it staking her. “Get back!” It wants to kill her, but it doesn’t want to kill us — thank the Gods, or we’d already be dead.
“WRUFF WRUFF WRUFF” Mathilde barks, wiggling uselessly in the chains. She growls and snaps symbolically, the centipede paying her no mind.
“I cannot let you face this alone,” Katarina says — but she wisely keeps her distance, forming her lightning into a whip and lashing the creature.
It stabs two thorny hands through my arms. They stay embedded, deep, and then melt into handcuffs while I’m seized up with pain.
Katarina’s whip doesn’t even slow it down. The thing knocks her over, readies its tail, and snaps it with savage precision. Katarina only survives because Svelgi’s strong rabbit leg kicks her out of the way.
The centipede wheels on her and Svelgi screams. Freezes. No! Need to get to my feet. I can’t watch her die again.
I stagger forward. A lash of black goo strikes me back to the ground (it copied Katarina’s whip?!). The thing skitters up to Katarina, but Svelgi, in a burst of movement, throws her own body on top of the vampyr’s, thrusts an arm in front of her. The centipede draws itself up to twice her height, and tilts its shifting head.
Svelgi is too terrified to speak. She just shudders, breathing quickly, guarding Katarina’s heart with her own body.
There’s a thrum of mellow energy through the clearing as the beast’s anger subsides. In an instant, the thing’s compacted down to the size of a regular centipede, sitting on her shoulder. Svelgi remains frozen as it slips into her rabbit ear and disappears. “Svegli!” I cry, as she freezes and slackens on top of Katarina. Mine and Mathilde’s bonds both vanish; we rush forward, me grabbing the bunny girl, gently shaking her, while Mathilde pulls Katarina from beneath.
Svelgi’s face is blank, eyes frozen open and mouth flat. She’s halfway between surprised and considering. “Svelgi, are you alright?” I ask, finding a steady pulse but earning no response. If only Mae were here.
“Kat’s okay,” Mathilde calls to me — good to know, but not really the main concern here. You expect a vampyr to regenerate. Svelgi, on the other hand…
“We need to get her back to the Compound.”
Svelgi’s hurt, and that’s more important than any number of black marks on my record. I need to get her the best help possible, even if that means rushing back into the Diligence compound to throw myself on Vila’s mercy.
Mathilde and Katarina have conveniently disappeared by the time I find her, falling to my knees in front of her on the fluffy green grass, Svelgi cradled in my arms.
“We were in the forest — for a good reason, I swear, and- and she didn’t even want to go; but it doesn’t matter because a centipede thing crawled into her ear and she collapsed!”
Vila’s blue eyes widen, fury quickly buried by concern.
“Hurry, bring her inside.”
Vila leads the way, me a half foot behind carrying Svelgi, limp in my arms.
“We need a Restorationist!” Vila cries as we pass through the archway. In half a second there’s small group of girls gathered, worrying over the sick girl. A Conjurationist creates a bed in the centre of the large, warm common room, where I lay Svelgi down and proceed to fall to my knees at her bedside as Vila issues commands.
She tells someone I don’t see to alert Headmistress Lyra; all I can do is stare at Svelgi. Just as they’re about to leave, Svelgi opens her eyes.
“It’s alright,” she says, voice sounding steadier than I’ve ever heard it, “I’m fine.”
“Svelgi, that thing went in your ear!”
“I know,” she says calmly, and as she does the inky black centipede scuttles out and wraps itself around her wrist. “We were talking; she’s my friend.”
My relief at Svelgi’s recovery lasts just about to Headmistress Lyra’s globed office, and then I start to feel sorry for myself. Svelgi sits beside me — uncharacteristically calm considering we’re both about to get a black mark.
No! Only I will if I can help it!
You have got to stop throwing yourself on the altar for people, girl.
But if anyone deserves it, it’s Svelgi. I mean, hell, she didn’t even want to be there! She only followed to stop us cutting — and she saved Katarina’s life!
I’m suddenly blinking, brain struggling to compute the unexpected face that walks out of Lyra’s office. Mae. The huge lioness herself exits a moment later, says: “Diligence girls, I’ll see you now. Mae, thank you for a lovely visit, as always.”
“Actually, Headmistress, do you mind if I stay? The Diligence girls sort of belong to me.”
Lyra frowns. “It’s unconventional-”
“Think of me like a concerned parent. I want to get them back on the straight and narrow.”
The Headmistress’s look of bewilderment turns to soft amusement — even she’s not immune to Mae’s charms, apparently.
So the three of us march into the sunshine soaked office, uncomfortably warm for my tastes, Svelgi and I with our heads down and Mae practically skipping.
“So,” says Lyra, taking a seat in her huge, cushioned chair — very almost a throne, “can either of you explain your behaviour this afternoon?”
I open my mouth to speak — if either of us is at fault, after all, it’s me — but I’m surprised when Svelgi cuts in first.
“Hattie’s a Seer. She saw something terrible happening in the forest. We thought we could prevent it.” The black centipede around her wrist flexes.
Lyra raises a lionish eyebrow. “And this terrible event was…”
“A death,” I say.
The Headmistress smiles, revealing her canines.
“A mysterious death!” she says looking between the two of us. “What do you make of this, Mae?”
Mae dimples, shrugs. “I can vouch for Hattie’s intel,” she says. “She’s probably throwing herself on the sword for the real troublemakers, knowing her.”
“I got that sense,” says Lyra, “but I’m afraid if she’s not willing to produce the true culprits, their punishment must fall on these two.”
“She won’t,” says Mae. “It’s the same dumb loyalty that’s gonna make her the perfect Imperial soldier. Not if she keeps racking up black marks for other peoples’ crimes though. She’s already got one for me.”
I feel odd, being talked about as if I’m not here, but Lyra tilts her head. “I have no wish to see the Orc thrown from the Academy either, but there are standards to maintain.”
Mae chews her lip (thoughtfully, I’m pretty sure, because why else would she?). “Well, Headmistress, we all try to follow the rules, but sometimes it just… slips away from us. A mage has to be bold, after all.”
There’s a hum and a nod from Lyra. “And you, rabbit? What of this spirit that’s attached to you?”
Svelgi shrugs, pink nose twitching. “We just… we understand each other. I think she’s my Familiar now.”
“And your current Familiar?”
“A jumping spider. I’m- I’m not sure what happens to him.”
Lyra nods slowly, creamy fur radiant in the sunlight. “It may be that you’re capable of wrangling both spirits. You must tread carefully — many a mage has gone insane from trying to bind too many soul fragments to themselves.”
“I, I will, Headmistress.”
“Very well. The prohibition against First Years wandering outside the walls is technically a Diligence rule, rather than an Academy one. I shall have Guardian Vila administer you a punishment in lieu of a mark; you two should expect quite a bit of hay baling and wheat separating in your future.” She glances at Mae, who nods with a wide smile — the Headmistress’s face softens slightly.
Gods. This woman makes friends wherever she goes.