Bargaining

“SHHH!” Fulcher and Schon hushed in unison. Vardia flinched, the visor of his helmet slamming shut. He opened it slightly, looking around with newly found stealth.

“Sorry Sir, I’ll prepare the carriage for our departure,” he whispered.

Bells started ringing out from the keep’s towers before any of them could move. The sounds of shouting could be heard as lanterns began reflecting against the inside of the castle windows.

“Move now! They found the guards we knocked out!” Fulcher said. The trio moved quickly to the carriage, Stella peering over Fulcher’s shoulder as they approached the doors.

“Dad?” she mumbled sleepily. Fulcher whipped around, his eyes landing on a balcony high up the castle walls.

The Sire stood there in a flowing white sleeping robe, his glare piercing the night breeze to land on Fulcher. Below him the doors of the castle swung open, dozens of soldiers rushing into the courtyard with swords drawn. The Sire simply pointed to the carriage, and the mass of shouting combatants surged forward. Fulcher’s glare was pulled away from Dilyniant as Schon tugged his shoulder back, facing him towards the open carriage doors.

“Stop staring and get in!” she shouted. Fulcher scrambled inside, carefully resting Stella on a seat. The girl stirred and yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“Did we lose the game?” Stella mumbled. Fulcher smiled as Schon crawled in behind them, shutting the door and tapping the inside of the carriage to alert Vardia they were inside.

“No, the game is just starting! We’re gonna run around while they look for us,” Fulcher assured.

The stagecoach lurched forward as Vardia commanded the horses to move. The shouting grew louder as the men approached, but as they passed by the gate and made their way into the town the voices grew softer. In a moment of sudden panic, Fulcher realized what he was forgetting. He stood and held into the doorframe as he swung the door open, hanging out and staring into the darkness.

“Arrow!” he shouted into the night breeze. The passing buildings offered him no answer as the carriage churned through the streets.

“Arrow! Come!” he repeated desperately.

I can’t leave him behind. He’s the only thing I have left from home, Fulcher thought desperately.

A shape churned against the darkened buildings. Fulcher squinted his eyes to see four legs moving rapidly to keep pace with the departing carriage.

“Arrow! Come here!!” Fulcher shouted again, making room in the doorframe.

The wolf came sprinting into view, still muddy and shaggy from the day before. He ran happily, his teeth settled around some kind of stick as he leapt into the carriage. The end of the stick clattered into the doorframe and against Fulcher’s knee, causing him to wince. Schon flinched as Arrow leapt into the cart, but Stella beamed.

“Puppy!” she leaned forward to pet the dirty Arrow, rubbing his ears as he dropped the stick and licked her face. Fulcher looked down at the stick, now realizing it was actually somebody’s walking cane, thoroughly chewed from Arrow’s sharp teeth.

“Arrow,” he scolded, grabbing the cane and tossing it out the carriage door before closing it and latching it shut. The wolf looked over, complaining with a long whine as he shifted over to lick Fulcher’s hand.

“Are we really bringing this thing with us?” Schon asked, the candelabra held carefully in her grasp to be between her and the animal.

“Yes. He’s family and we won’t be leaving him behind,” Fulcher said, leaning down to scratch Arrow’s neck. Schon rolled her eyes but offered no further complaint. Fulcher sat down as the coach shook, trading the paved roadway from the castle for the muddy roads of the woods beyond.

“Though I wonder whose cane that was...” Fulcher wondered.


—----


“Rest now, Matron Mother,” Gwyn insisted. The poor girl had been following the Matron since they had arrived back at the chapel, and had witnessed the woman’s unraveling since.

“That is not the Prince!” the Matron insisted. She pointed to the keep in despair.

“Divine Mother as my witness, he is not the boy I nursed! Not the boy scared of the dark when his mother passed! He is a daemon… hellspawn!” the Matron shouted, leaning against the wall of the prayer hall.

Whispers broke out amongst the sisters behind Gwyn, who herself sighed and waved away the concerns.

“I admit he was acting strange today, but that doesn’t make him a daemon, Mother,” she said. Gwyn had worried about this happening eventually. The Matron Mother was old, older than any Matron before her. Perhaps the years had finally caught up to the poor woman.

“Come, why not walk in the garden? You always love the garden,” Gwyn said. The Matron nodded slowly, settling in place as she nodded.

“Yes, yes my garden. I will pray there,” she agreed. One of the sisters walked up and presented her cane, and the Matron began the slow march to the chapel garden. Gwyn accompanied her, as was expected of the next Matron. They walked the garden in silence as they approached the fountain. The ornate stone carvings depicted the Mother Above and her many faces, each holding a child. The Matron and Gwyn froze as the fountain came into full view, and stared at the intruder.

A muddy and shaggy wolf, loudly slurping up water from the fountain’s edge.

“Oh, it’s the Prince’s new pet,” Gwyn said softly. The Matron remained frozen, perhaps in fear. The wolf looked over at them and got down from the fountain, his maw dripping with water as he jogged over. Gwyn smiled at the wolf, remembering him from the hunting trip earlier in the day when she had healed Fulcher’s head wound. The Matron however, was less happy as she muttered a prayer and clutched a set of holy beads on her wrist.

“Hey boy, where’s the Prince?” Gwyn asked. The wolf sniffed them both, barking suddenly. The Matron took a step back as her prayers grew louder. Before Gwyn could properly soothe her, the wolf leaned forward gently and secured the Matron’s walking cane in his teeth.

“Wait, no that isn’t a toy,” Gwyn insisted, reaching down. The wolf growled and tugged, pulling the stick from the Matron harshly. With a yelp, the old woman collapsed onto the garden path as the wolf ran away happily, already chewing the stick as he ran. Gwyn dropped to her knees before the Matron quickly.

“Matron! Matron are you okay?” she asked.

“Hellhound!” The Matron wailed on the ground, clutching her prayer beads, “The daemon takes my legs!”

Arrow made his way happily out of the garden as the Sisters chased after him. He had secured a nice stick, and intended to chew it thoroughly.