Aurora Wolf

White Knight, Red Princess

by Billy Wong

Carl ambled from the campfire to the side of the large cart, careful not to spill the bowl of soup.  “Come on, Nat, you’ve got to eat,” he said softly after he put the spoon to her mouth and she declined to open it.  “Aren’t you hungry?”       

“A little.”  Natalie looked down at her hand, clutching her deep gut wound.  “But if I have that, it’ll just come back out again.”           

Tears misted Carl’s eyes.  He patted her head.  “Oh, Nat.  Don’t worry, I’m going to get you home and fixed right up in no time.”   

She watched him walk away to pack up their gear and swallowed hard.  His weak attempts to reassure her weren’t fooling anyone.  She remembered very clearly his hopeless look upon pushing the soldier’s corpse off her, only to see his sword slide out of her belly as he tumbled aside.  Besides, nobody would think the medical care in their little hometown surpassed that found in an army camp.  Carl, she knew with dreadful certainty, was taking her home to say goodbye.        

“How do you feel?” he asked when he returned with the packed bags.  “Can you go on?”          

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  It didn’t matter that the motion of the horse-drawn vehicle sent fire lancing through her innards with each bump.  She didn’t want to believe she was going to die, but if she would, her family deserved the chance to see her one last time.    

The cart rolled on over soft moist roads, Nat watching gray clouds fly by.  The rough blankets Carl had piled atop her did little to alleviate her misery as she shivered with jaw clenched in agony.  She touched the hilt of her sword for a measure of comfort.  No matter how bad it hurt, she would fight to the end for her life.  Just like she had kept fighting and killed three more warriors after one buried his sword into her guts. 

“Hey Nat, do you hear something?  I think we’re being watched.”         

“I didn’t hear anything.”  She’d barely been awake.  As he slowed the cart, she looked down the road.  She saw nothing there, but then heard a growl from terrifyingly close by and turned her head to regard a number of dark, bulky figures charging in from the sides.

“Orcs!  Nat”–Carl paused, as if uncertain what to say–”hide!”  He ran to meet the scale-armored brutes, swinging his axe.           

No way.  Even if she would’ve been open to that, she figured some of the tusked green humanoids must have already spotted her.  Throwing blankets over her head would hardly make her vanish from their memory.          

Instead she grasped her sword and whipped it up, loosing a jet of blood from the neck of the first orc to approach.  She tried to roll off the cart onto her feet.  Her body seized up with pain, and she flopped moaning in the dirt.  Nat strained to rise, the excruciating struggle filling her eyes with tears, but couldn’t.  This was… inconvenient.  She stabbed into an orc’s groin just before it could bring its axe down on her head, then rolled under the cart to avoid a trio of plunging spear points.           

Taking a second to catch her breath, Nat noticed a dark stain over her head.  How much blood had she lost, for that much to soak through the boards?  No time to think about it. 

She rolled out on the opposite side of the cart, chopped off an orc’s foot and parried another’s axe.  Her arm trembled beneath its strength, but she jerked the weapon out wide.  Slicing the artery in that orc’s inner thigh, she found herself momentarily blinded by the spray of blood.  Back she rolled under the cart.

When she managed to clear her vision, the first thing she saw was a porcine face staring right at her.  Crawling in after her?  Bad idea.  She thrust awkwardly through its open mouth.  A loud crack sounded from one of the wheels, and the cart wobbled.  Damn smelly things were trying to bring it down on her!  She ran her blade across four thick ankles, causing their owners to stumble back.  Another wheel broke, and one side of the wagon thumped against the ground.

“You will pleasure us, human wench,” rumbled a nearly unintelligible, guttural voice.       

Nat had had enough of this.  She heaved herself out into the open and through the speaker’s legs.  Turning over, she rammed her sword up its rear end.  “Now who’s raping who?”   

An orc leaped at her.  She impaled it in midair and flipped its dying body over herself with her legs.  With a scream of inhuman effort, ignoring her bowels ripping as she did so, she stood.  Orcs rushed her.  She sprang forward and cleaved most of the way through one’s neck; spun aside from a jabbing spear and gutted its wielder.  Something punched into her flank.  No big deal, her abdomen was a mess anyway.  She stunned her stabber with a rake to the eyes and hacked away half its head.  A particularly huge monster barreled in, great sword sweeping in wide arcs.  Nat hopped a low slash—no pain! she told herself—and split its skull down to the neck bones.         

Upon landing, she lost her balance and fell on her rump.  She watched the two orcs whose ankles she’d injured hobble away and sighed.  She had no energy to chase them.  The world was growing dark, her sight obscured by an ever thickening fog.  Her sword dropped from her hand.  She fumbled for it briefly, then gave up.  It was already ruined, probably.  She started to lean back, eyelids drifting closed…   

An urgent thought snapped her back to alertness.  Where was Carl?  She hadn’t seen him since rolling under the cart the first time.  “Carl?” she rasped through the gooey blood in her throat.  “Carl?  If you can hear me, say something!”     

No answer.  Please don’t let him be dead.  Moving gingerly, she looked around for his body.  She saw a number of orcs not accounted for by her, but no sign of her friend.  Where could he be?  Had he been captured by some orcs that’d left early?  Nat sniffed in fear and helplessness.  She was in no condition to perform a rescue.  To make things worse, the sky had darkened and it began to rain.  

She sat in the downpour for awhile, but her chattering teeth finally got to her.  The condition she was in, she didn’t need to catch a cold too.  Lurching upright with her sword’s help, she headed for the nearby hills hoping to find shelter.  The limping journey felt like it took hours, which it might have.  She was almost grateful for the rain washing away the tears and blood from her mouth.           

Fortunately, she found a small cave soon after reaching the hills.  Unfortunately, a boulder taller than her blocked the entrance.  Nat sobbed in despair.  She didn’t know how long it would take for her to find another cave, or if she even could before she collapsed.  Screw it, she decided at last.  She set her shoulder against the rock and somehow, impossibly, muscled it aside just enough.  Squeezing her mangled body through the narrow gap, smearing blood across the stone, she picked out a smoother section of wall and sat heavily against it. 

Immediately after easing herself down, Nat lost consciousness.

#

Her awareness returned with the approach of heat and light.  She heard hard footsteps closing in on her, and when she cracked open sticky eyes, beheld a vague bipedal shape behind a too-bright flame.  Instinctively, she snatched up her sword and set the point against the figure’s solar plexus.

“Easy there, little lass!” a good-natured male voice said.  He lowered the lantern, allowing her to make out a tall man dressed in chain under a white surcoat and cape.  A thick broadsword hung sheathed at his waist, and scars on the clean-shaven face framed by shoulder length blond hair conveyed respectable experience.  “I just saw that trail of blood, and wondered if somebody injured needed help.  And you look gravely injured.”

Judging his voice to be sincere, Nat lowered her sword with a bashful smile.  “I would say I’m all right, but I really do need help.  A friend of mine disappeared while we were fighting orcs; I fear they might have captured him.  Could you..?”      

“I welcome the chance to aid a lovely damsel like yourself.  But should getting you to a doctor not be a greater priority?”           

Leaning against the wall, she pushed herself to her feet.  It surprised her to feel less pain than before, though some of her extremities were getting numb.  She might be closer to death, but she could still act for the sake of her friend.     

“You’re rather tough,” he said.  “I suppose your wounds aren’t as terrible as I thought?” 

“Heh.  I can still hold out for a bit.”       

“So it seems.  I am Roland Bluestone, of the White Knights.”  He extended a thick, strong hand.  “What is your name?” 

“Natalie.  My friends call me Nat.”       

His brow furrowed, as if he found her nickname questionable.  And perhaps he should, since Carl had first come up with it telling her to, “Shut up, you annoying Nat.”       

“Well met, then… Natalie.  Would you like me to carry you?”    

He looked quite concerned from watching her wobble trying to stand on her own.  She blushed, prideful girl that she was, but recognized her need to conserve all the energy she could.  “You can, if you don’t think I’m too heavy.”         

Roland lifted her onto his back, and she sighed as she rested her heavy head against his shoulder.  “You’re hardly heavy.  So, where did you last see your friend?”

#

The rain outside had stopped, though Roland’s boots squished through thick mud.  They returned to the site of the battle, and he took in the many slain orcs with a nod.  “Your Carl is a good fighter.  And I see you were brave enough to try to help him.”    

“I lost track of him pretty quick, honestly.  Just did my best to stay alive.”          

“It’s understandable you couldn’t do much.  I respect your effort.”         

Couldn’t do much?  She thought she had accounted for ten orcs with a wound that would have disabled most.  It didn’t matter much now, though.  “Put me down by the cart.  You know, while you search for tracks.”

He carefully let her down, and she half sat on a wheel.  For the first time in a long while, as Roland walked around studying the ground, she began to relax.  This wasn’t so bad.  Even a silly tomboy like herself could use a strong man to protect her once in a while, especially when her body was all but torn apart…         

She saw an orc with a bloodied skull rise from the ground and step towards Roland’s back, axe coming up.  “Look out!” she thought to yell, but choked and coughed blood through her hand instead.  He looked towards her.        

Knowing she had no time to clear her throat, Nat did the only thing she could.  She pushed herself off the cart with her sword thrust forward.  The point pierced the orc’s neck from the side so that blood spurted, and it flailed in its death throes.  Yet she too could not keep her balance, and fell forward following the blow.

Roland rushed to her side, knelt and grabbed the sword out of her hand.  Her jaw dropped at his next words.  “Whoever let you have this weapon should be ashamed!  Why would you carry such a dangerous blade, if you can’t even wield it properly?”       

“What?  Didn’t I just kill somebody and save your ass?  Give me back my sword!”      

He moved the sword up away from her reaching hand.  “Your courage is admirable.  But I heard it coming, and only meant to lure it into a flash sense of confidence.  More importantly, you tripped over your own feet making your first attack!  You could have seriously injured yourself.  It was pure luck that guided your strike home, to say nothing of the orc being too wounded to defend itself.”        

“Are you crazy?  I tripped because I’m hurt, not because I don’t know how to fight!  Hand me my sword or I’ll kill you.”           

He shook his head.  “Hollow threats will hardly move me.  Don’t expect me to help you up before you calm down.”       

Hollow threats?  Well, she wouldn’t really murder him over just that.  But she probably would beat him up, if she had the strength.  Right now, she couldn’t even do that. 

Nat smiled to herself.  He wanted to think of her as a hysterical woman?  Fine.  Retrieving a hidden dagger from her sleeve, she put it to her own throat.  “Give it back!”  She summoned tears from her eyes, not difficult given her immense pain.  “It’s all I have left from my dead sweetheart.”  To make herself more convincing, she drew a drop of blood from her skin.

“Easy, easy!  All right, you can have it back.  But only if you promise not to use it unless directly attacked.”       

“Whatever you say.  I just want to hold it…”     

Reluctantly, he lowered it towards her.  She snatched it out of his hand and rammed it home in her scabbard, glaring at him all the while.  He looked back at her like she were a petulant child.       

She waited on the ground while he continued the search for tracks.  Eventually, he found smaller footprints she agreed could be Carl’s.  She bit her lip at the larger prints that surrounded and sometimes overlapped his.  Roland picked her up and they went on their way.  Maybe she shouldn’t be too mad with him.  Misjudgment of her abilities aside, he was still helping her.           

“I really am a decent fighter,” she said as they headed off the road after the tracks.  “I’ve held my own with many men in sparring.”         

“They were showing you gentlemanly courtesy.  Your assessment of your abilities would be much different had they not held back.” 

“What if I told you I killed eight orcs and ran off at least two more when we were attacked?”    

“Did you really?  I would think they didn’t expect you to be so aggressive, and that you were very lucky.”          

Nat shook her head.  After a stretch of traveling over moist grassland, they spotted another road.  They turned onto it and soon heard grunting speech further ahead.  Around a modestly dressed man tied to a drab birch tree stood five orcs.     

“He might know something about where Carl’s gone,” Nat said as Roland hid behind a tall bush.  “We should save him.”

He set her on her feet.  “You stay here.  I’ll save him.”   

She watched him charge the burly beasts, sneering slightly at his arrogance.  Even she would’ve at least attempted stealth against this many opponents.  Two of them carried swords too, hinting they might be more than the average orc warriors.  Roland battered down his first target’s guarding blade, transitioning smoothly into a thrust to its throat.  He dodged a second orc’s spear and sliced across another’s eyes before it could raise its axe.  Grudgingly, Nat admitted he was quite good.  

A sudden pang ripped through her insides, and she stumbled partway out from behind the bush.  She looked up to find one orc’s eyes locked on her.  It darted out to the side and passed Roland, then made a beeline for Nat.  Just fine with her.  Unable to even stand straight or not, she welcomed the chance to show what she could really do.  He couldn’t blame her for defending herself, right?

She leaned aside with ease from a sloppy sword blow and retaliated with a cut to both its upper arms.  She didn’t even want to slay this one quickly, in truth.  Instead she would pick it apart so as to leave no doubt about the level of her skill.  It didn’t matter in the least that at this moment, she could taste her own blood, bile and tears.  Nat parried another chop and flattened the orc’s nose with a punch.  She would destroy this unlucky creature, and-      

“Hang on, Nat,” Roland cried, “I’ll save you!”  Having downed all but one of his foes, he cut the bound man’s ropes and kicked an orc’s dropped spear towards him.  “Defend yourself, man!”   

“No, no!” Nat begged as he broke off combat and hurried to rescue her.  She had this well in hand, her adversary squealing with the deep gash she put in its thigh.  Meanwhile the orc Roland had engaged turned to flee, but spared a glance for its captive still struggling with his bonds.    

Most likely to keep him from talking, the orc swung its axe and just about decapitated him.       

Stunned with horror at the fruits of Roland’s misplaced priorities, Nat allowed her enemy to get in a kick that put her on her back.  She drew her sword back to impale the orc when it tried to follow up, but Roland slashed it down from behind before it could.           

“You imbecile!” she screamed.  “Why couldn’t you save the fucking hostage first?”        

“What are you talking about?  I freed him and gave him a means to defend himself.  He should be fine-” 

“Look behind you!”      

He looked back to the tree under which the man lay sightlessly staring.  His killer was long gone.  “Oh.  It seems I overestimated him.  But what did you want me to do?  I had to save you.”        

“I didn’t need to be saved!  Look at the wounds on its body.  I was winning!”   

Roland ran his gaze over the corpse.  “You did better than I thought you would.”  He shook his head.  “However, these still aren’t incapacitating wounds.  You were the one about to be finished off.”         

What fight had he been watching?  His distraction alone had caused her to be knocked down.  She jumped to her feet, sheer anger making her forget her hurts.  “Gods, that’s it!  I challenge you to a duel right now, to prove if I’m really as weak as you think.”  

“A duel with a woman, and a wounded one at that?  It would tarnish my honor just to accept.”  

“It’s not your choice to make!” she said, and rushed.     

He sidestepped her lunge and put his foot out, tripping her.  The impact of her belly against the ground sent her curling into a fetal ball.  Damn her injuries, she thought with a grimace she tried to force into a scowl. 

“You know you’re no match for me.”  Roland exhaled.  “Now, do you still want to help your friend or not?”       

Nat squeezed the hilt in her hand in an effort to push back the waves of pain.  She wasn’t beaten yet.  She could still fight him.  But she realized to do so over this one setback would do her greater cause no good.        

“Yes, I still need your help.  I’m sorry.  Thanks for the save.”    

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”  Roland gazed sadly towards the orcs’ prisoner, slumped in a puddle of blood.  “I do wish he could have told us where your friend is.  But Carl wouldn’t be very happy if that information cost you your life, would he?”      

Nat held her tongue, knowing she would not be able to resist another outburst if she spoke.  He knelt before her, and miserably she climbed aboard his back to resume following Carl’s footsteps.

#

They failed to find Carl that day, and at sundown Roland insisted on stopping so she could get some rest.  Why waste time, when she might not have long to live?  But if he knew she was hurt that badly, he probably wouldn’t let her go on at all.  She resigned herself to waiting, spitefully not volunteering to help with any preparation of camp or food.  He didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t look so scared, girl,” he said, patting her hand through the blanket he laid atop her.  “I’ll keep you safe from the beasts.”

She couldn’t sleep well, and spent much of the night pondering whether to sneak away from him.  How infuriating his company had become.  He had let an innocent man die over his misplaced concern!  But she didn’t have much strength left with which to travel and fight orcs; plus, how far would she get before Roland caught up?  She feared she wouldn’t be able to stop him if he decided to tie her up.  For now, she had best behave herself.   

Morning came, the bright sun stinging her dry eyes.  Nat yawned, and wiped the crude from her eyes.  Roland rose and walked over.   

“How did you sleep?  Are your wounds better?”           

She was so dizzy, her head felt like it was floating.  “They’re fine.  And considering I don’t have to walk, I’ve slept enough.”           

He lifted her again, and she reconsidered her view of him.  To carry her sturdy frame all day without complaint—he really was a good man at heart.  Only…         

She eyed curiously the crossbow she assumed to be rarely used at his belt.  “Say, what if I used a ranged weapon instead?  Would you be less worried about my safety then?”       

“Perhaps.  But for me to feel safe fighting with you, you would need to prove you have a steady aim first.”         

Which she didn’t have in her delicate state.  She imagined shooting while riding on his back, unlikely to hit him, but dismissed the impractical idea.  Even if she could somehow accurately target their foes, he would be severely hindered in melee.    

They came into sight of an orc camp that afternoon.  A smoked meat smell hung over eleven hide tents upon a short hill, each of which Nat guessed would not house more than three warriors.  From his vantage point atop the tallest tree on a neighboring hill, Roland counted four out in the open.    

“So if me and Carl killed seventeen before,” Nat said, “and the ones we met on the way were from here too… I figure there can’t be more than about twelve left or so?”      

Roland nodded at her quick assessment.  “That one tent is a little bigger, so maybe one or two more.  Or it could be the leader’s alone, in which case a couple less.”      

“In either case, we should at least try to use stealth.  No point tackling a crowd head on if we can pick them off one by one, or even possibly avoid facing them.”     

“You’re right.  You wait here—I’ll go and find him.”      

Nat sighed.  After he disappeared from sight, she started for the camp too.  She had peeked inside the first empty tent when scraping gravel alerted her to movement nearby.  She tiptoed closer and peered around the tent’s side.  Leaving one crude shelter was an armed and armored orc, while another waited outside perhaps to relieve him.  Though she did not know much Orcish, she recognized the word “prisoner” in the departing guard’s speech.      

Carl must be in there!  She stepped forward, running the newly arrived orc through from behind.  Its comrade yelled and swung its broadsword.  Nat ducked and backhand slashed its throat.  Damn, she hadn’t been able to shut it up fast enough.  She would have to hurry and free Carl before others came.

Then she realized orcish shouting still reached her ears.  Had Roland gotten himself discovered already?  She headed for the tent anyway, heard the clanging of metal and hesitated.  Roland might be able to handle the rest of the camp’s defenders, but she wasn’t sure.  Even if she didn’t like him, he was her partner for the moment and she should help him.  Darn. 

She strode in the direction of the noise, sheathing her sword and drawing two knives.  When she spotted Roland battling no less than nine orcs, she threw.  One dagger found its mark in an orc’s eye, but the other flew off target and grazed Roland’s ear.     

“What are you doing here?  Watch it, you unreasonable girl!”    

Nat ignored him, re-drew her sword and waded into the melee.  She widened an orc’s mouth with her first slice and blocked a blow from a long axe, only to stumble with pain and fall on her butt.  Not this again.  She stabbed through her attacker’s belly, rolled aside from descending blades and flailed her sword to keep her foes back.  A boot whipped past her guard and into her face.  Her eyelids drooped, and the movements of her blurry arm slowed.  No, she couldn’t… embarrass herself…           

Something heavy hit the ground beside her with a grunt.  “Look at what you did, you senseless brat!” Roland spat, bleeding from several wounds.  “I told you to leave a man’s business well alone, but you just had to come and distract me.”         

New energy surged through her tortured frame.  “Stop looking at me through a white fog and open your eyes, ‘man!’  You don’t need to be distracted by me!  I’m not useless!”    

She cleaved away an orc’s leg at the knee and gutted it while it fell.  A spear pierced her shoulder.  Shit, she didn’t have much blood left.  She grasped the shaft to hold it in place, brought her sword up and took its wielder’s head.  Sensing an enemy approach from behind, she spun on her rear.  She leaned back just enough to avoid a lunging sword thrust at her face.  After tripping the orc forward with her legs, she brained it with her hilt in mid fall. 

The battlefield was quiet; her ally had dispatched the other four.  Nat clutched her stomach and managed to stand, swaying on her feet.  Roland knelt panting for breath.     

“I have to admit, that wasn’t bad,” he said.  “Fine ground fighting.”         

“Thanks.  Get Carl, please?  He should be in the second to last tent over there.”  Wet coughs wracked her body, and she closed her eyes.  “I… at least… want to say goodbye to him.”    

The sound of a familiar voice snapped her eyes back open.  “Nat!” Carl said, running onto the scene with axe bloody.  She gaped.  “What happened?!  You already got free?”       

“I was about to ask you that!  I never got captured.  We thought you did…”      

“I didn’t either—I heard the orcs talking about a prisoner, and thought they’d taken you.  So I came to save you, and had just taken down the orc leader before I heard you at work.  I’m so sorry about leaving you.  Where were you?”

Nat grinned.  Finally reunited with him, she didn’t feel quite like dying anymore.  She had fought on for this long—why shouldn’t she be able to keep fighting, and win?  “Probably under the cart.”       

“You should take good care of her, lad,” Roland said to Carl.  ”She is a fine woman, and warrior.

Nat’s grin widened until her cheeks hurt.  She could hardly believe he had finally acknowledged her strength.  Maybe now, he would think twice about taking every female he met for a weakling.  “But Carl, if you weren’t the prisoner, then who..?”

The three of them entered the tent together.  Lying chained to a post was an unconscious woman clad in tight black leather that exposed much skin.  Garish dark red and purple makeup caked her face, and a horned headdress helped secure her ebony mane.  Her long crimson nails looked as sharp as daggers.

“Apparently she is a lady in need of rescue,” Roland said.  “I shall see to her.”  Unlocking the chain with a key found by Carl, he hefted her and made for the exit.  Nat frowned.  Not even a little suspicious of a woman dressed like that?  Old habits did die hard.          

“What now?” Carl asked.  “Time to go home?” 

“Yes.”  She put her arms around his neck and hopped delicately into his arms.  “Carry me, will you?”  She had wasted enough energy these past few days, proving herself as worthy of respect as a man.

He set her down, smiling.  “Why?  I’m glad you seem to be doing better than I thought, but that means you can walk on your own just fine.  It’s only a few steps to the orcs’ nice meat cart.”

The look she shot him made Carl take her back in his arms real quick.