blood hawks **NEW**
Story by ANDERS, 2012
Warning: Content is only suitable for mature adults, contains explicit language and adult themes, including violence, blood and gore, graphic sexual content and nudity.
Disclaimer: All stories are a work of fiction. The characters do not exist, except in the mind of the author. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Tags: ff, adult, friends, fantasy
***
This is the companion story to (1) bone by starlight, (3) rider on a dark horse, (4) end game and (5) storm gathering.
***
I think of you every night and day. You took my heart then you took my pride away.
***
Pulling off her face mask, Cress watches with a faint frown at the hawks circling overhead in the distance. She could see that they were a fully grown adult pair of usual size and strength, their distinct black-red plumage and large wingspans in stark contrast to the iron grey sky.
Cress utters a prayer under her breath that the hawks are eyeing the pack of leather clad women as a curiosity, and not scanning the tundra for suitable prey. She does not need unwanted interest from a pair of giant predators fully capable of unseating a mounted warrior or dismembering a horse with their razor sharp becks and iron claws. After more than a day’s hard riding behind them, they were in no shape to fend off a monster much less two working in tandem.
“Sela, do you see them? Up there.”
Those wings that seem to blot out the very sky. Blood Hawks. A bonded pair.
“They’re been following us for some hours now. I never thought I would see one again, much less another.”
Cress knows her question is unnecessary. Sela has been tracking their winged ‘guests’ with hungry, shinning eyes since she caught sight of them some way back. Cress quietly notes that Sela looks almost serene as her eyes scan the horizon, taking in the raw power and beauty of the monstrous birds.
Beautiful are they not? So proud and free like the people that once bred them.
Native only to the high places in the northlands, blood hawks were the rarest of raptors. Used by the Witch Clans to hunt long distances on the tundra; they like the people themselves were now consigned to legend. Cress herself had only seen a hunting pair once before as a child, her father had taken her and Ari along with him on a tribal hunt. It was a trial of passage for them both. The hawks had frightened her with their vicious becks and coal black eyes, but Ari had been enchanted.
“Are they eyeing us for a kill?”
She’s afraid of them. She wants to shoot them out of the sky, wipe them from her memories.
“Sela, do we need to ready the longbows as a precaution?”
Blood hawks are sacred. Attempting to attack them would only invite their masters’ wrath.
“No, save the arrows. They’re flying out of range. They’re curious. If they were hungry, they would have attacked us by now. We are easy targets out here in the open; with the weight the horses are carrying we could never hope to out run them.”
Cress nods, her large black charger effortlessly keeping pace with the taller woman’s smaller chestnut mare. While Cress’s taste in mounts always ran to the largest, most aggressive horses, Sela was the direct opposite. Sela favoured horses that were light and fast. Unlike Cress, who welded a spear on horseback, she never rode into a battle. She fought on the pitch in the mud, her axe flashing in the sun and singing as it cut and sliced her opponents down to size.
Cress notes that they have made good time in the last 2 days. She has pushed her warriors and their mounts to the limit. Soon they will be heading away from the Plain of Winds and into the Nameless Hills. Where in the shelter of the secluded canyons Cress will have them stop and make camp.
The surrounding foot hills were peppered with small running streams filled with fish and clear pools of cool sweet water formed from natural springs bubbling out from the rock walls. The ample grazing and presence of small game made it an ideal place for the pack to rest for a day or so before the final push northwards. Cress was acutely aware that she needed both her riders and their mounts alert and well rested to continue with the last leg of their arduous journey. The higher hills were a barren, inhospitable place for outsiders, and Cress does not want to add her own to the collection of bones bleaching in the sun.
“A tribal hunting party must be on the move nearby.”
Witch Clan. Hawk. They’re been tracking your pack for some time now. Surely you knew that.
Sela nods and Cress quickly signals to her next in command. A tall masked champion suited in black leathers piped in crimson-gold, quietly urges her horse forward until she is riding parallel to Cress’ gold clad form. Unlike the others, who wore their leathers plain, Cress’s leathers were embossed with ornate flowers in red and gold thread. They had been a gift from one woman to the other.
“Stand down.”
The warrior hesitates for a moment, unsure of her conflicting orders.
“Now.”
Sela snarls and the warrior quickly drops back behind Cress, the brilliant colours of Sela’s flora emblem on her leathers, marking the smaller woman out from the rest of the pack.
The warrior has ridden with Cress long enough to know how fickle Sela’s moods can be. It was both an honour and a burden to wear her colours; the flowers of ruby red and gold that flew proudly on her standards. Sela never left a warrior to die alone on the battle field, but the consequences of getting on her wrong side were usually bloody if not fatal. The tongues that wagged the hardest at court were always able to recite a list of her most recent victims; faces split open, limbs broken and missing for slights real and imaginary. The latest being a smashed head for a measure of wine spilled during a banquet.
Cress protected her warriors whenever she could from the other woman’s wrath. Sela never lifted a hand against Cress, but everyone knew there were limits to her influence. Cress could not be everywhere and Sela had a reputation of never doing anything by halves.
You know how she hates it when you speak to that precious champion of hers in that tone of yours.
“Sela, we need to send out the scouts. We need to make contact if there’s a hunting party nearby.”
She has no respect for you. See how she challenges your orders, after you over ruled her in front of her pack.
Sela continues riding, deaf to Cress’ plea. She has no wish to make contact with the hunting party. She would rather they continue riding until they become hopelessly entangled in the hills, forcing Cress to concede a reluctant retreat back to the Resurrected City with her tail between her legs. Let the witch on the throne look for another lackey to do her dirty work.
“Sela, please. Listen.”
Are you going to let her continue badgering you? Are you going to let her challenge you again?
“Sela, we need to make contact. We need them to direct us to the village. We need to find the Shamans.”
She consistently defies your wishes, ignores your orders. Are you going to let her insolence stand?
“You wear my colours. You eat at my table. I should have executed you there and then for working against my interests. Don’t make me regret not gutting you for the ravens.”
It is a threat Sela never thought she would ever have to utter to the woman riding beside her.
“I was… I…”
You should have slit the bitch’s throat when you had the chance. She hates you now.
Silently cursing as she listens to the smaller woman’s words slowly die in her throat, Sela makes herself a promise to cut out the gilded tongues of her mother’s court favourites and string them up high on the palace gates to flap in the wind as currency for turning Cress against her.
“I thank you for sparing my life, my liege. It will be as you wish; I was speaking out of turn. It will not happen again.”
Cress turns away to pull her face mask back on careful to avoid the other woman’s searching eyes.
Sela did not for an instant expect Cress to back down even at the risk of her own neck. She learnt early on that threats were useless weapons against the smaller woman. Cress never backed down when she felt she had a point to make, that was why their friendship had survived and strengthen over the years.
Yet, the victory rang hollow, the coldness in Cress’s voice piercing deep into Sela’s troubled heart.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
***
They ride hard the remainder of the way with Cress setting a punishing pace. Her prized charger is now up front alone; the chestnut mare and its rider dropping back to the rear. The heavy silence of the tundra punctuated only by the thunder of hoofs and Cress’s hushed directions to the pack to stay in step.
Cress did not like to raise her voice unless absolutely necessary. She did not see the wisdom in attracting further attention to herself. If she could, she would have preferred to be allowed to wear the modest brown leathers that Sela herself wore. It was not in her interest to be bold in dress and manner amidst the constant bickering between the various warring factions at court. Especially if you are seen as being nothing more than an upstart; some low born warrior’s half breed spawn now covered in gold and showered with favour.
They were now deep in the hill country, and the going was rough. The horses in the back were starting to struggle under the weight of their packs, their flanks wet and heavy with sweat. Cress knows that they will have to stop soon before the horses start dropping.
Reigning in her charger, she drops down to a canter, signally to her next in command to take over the lead. As a quartet of mounted warriors ride forward to scout the way, Cress’s charger drifts back to the rear of the pack and falls naturally alongside the chestnut mare in a slow trot.
“I think my horse is sweet on your mare.”
She’s forgiven you, how charming.
“My mare congratulations your horse on its excellent taste.”
Sela replies with a faint smile. She feels loneliest when they fight.
“Here, let me help you.”
Urging her mount closer, Sela’s voice is soft and apologetic as she reaches out to gently remove the mask from Cress’s face; her other hand reaching out instinctively to grasp Cress’s wrist tight in its hold bringing a bright smile to the smaller woman’s face.
One day she will no longer smile when you touch her. Savour the moment while you can.
“Your hands are so cold.”
Cress replies softly as she takes Sela’s hands into her own and slowly rubs them; her actions causing her companion to blush, the tinge of pink melting the hard blank mask that the other woman wore as a guard against the world. It is a strange tenderness that Sela reserves for Cress alone; tenderness that Cress both loathes and craves.
Despite the numerous rumours swirling at court, they were not lovers. However, the courtiers did defer to Cress as such, affording her access and influence in matters not normally grant to a mere Captain of the Guards. The taller woman’s ambiguous sexuality provided much fodder for speculation. Strikingly attractive, she could have had a harem of lovers; instead she chose to withdraw herself from intimate contact with the sole exception of her cold, enigmatic Captain.
Cress herself could never find the words to describe her relationship with Sela. Over the years, she has tried and failed to temper the other woman’s cryptic, violent ways. They were confidants; they ate together at the same table, lived together in adjoining sets of rooms, but they were not equals. Cress was Sela’s vassal. She wore the other woman’s colours, rode for her, fought for her.
Cress never doubts that she matters little more than chattel to Sela to use as she chooses. Love, hate, pain, joy, bitter, sweet were not words that Cress would ever utter in reference to her liege lord, yet they came closest in describing the conflict she felt.
Order her to stop. She has ridden the pack too long and hard, anymore and the horses will drop.
“We need to stop. We have ridden hard for more than a day and a half. The horses are of no use to us dead.”
Cress picks up on the dull tone in Sela’s voice, and instinctively moves to sooth the taller woman.
“We make camp as soon as the scouts have secured a suitable site with access to a spring. The horses need to be watered and our water skins refreshed.”
Tell her to get meat. The pack is exhausted and hungry. Where there is water there is game.
“Hopefully your scouts will also have the sense to return with game. We’re been supping lentil gruel and hard biscuit for over a week.”
She works hard to please you because she is your vassal and you are her liege lord. Don’t fool yourself otherwise.
“As you wish, I will give the order, my liege.”
Cress replies smoothly, dazzling Sela with a brilliant smile, before urging her charger forward to the front of the pack to whisper intimately into her champion’s ear, leaving the other woman confused and frustrated in her wake.
***
“You’re handy with a spear, I give you that.”
Sela remarks happily to herself as she polishes off yet another helping of food. After they made camp, Cress disappeared by herself into the hills when the scouts returned empty handed from the hunt. Returning soon after with bags filled with small game.
She is not with you. Look. She is with the other. They are laughing and talking. They make such a pretty pair, she and that champion of hers. Look as they laugh and plot against you behind your back.
Lifting her head out of her bowl, Sela sees Cress standing a distance away by the open fire pushing a full plate of meat to her champion. The tall dark haired woman in the black leathers piped in crimson-gold. In the soft light of the flames, she silently watches as the woman bends down to whisper something in Cress’s ear. Something amusing that makes her laugh. Watches as Cress runs her had down the other woman’s arm.
You cannot trust her. You know what you have to do. Do it tonight and end this charade.
Swallowing the now tasteless mouthful, Sela suddenly slams the bowl hard into the ground, smashing it.
***
She follows them from the shadows as they leave the sleeping camp. Deep in conversation, they do not notice her as they make their way by foot to the far end of the canyon, away from the prying eyes of the sentries. The champion, walking a step behind the smaller woman, is thoughtful as Cress briskly issues instructions on what she wants done. From the snatches of conversation carried by the wind, Sela could make out that they were discussing the scouts and the preparations needed for the final leg of the journey. The champion is concerned about the conditions in the higher hills, but Cress is adamant that there will be no delay in their quest, emphasising to the taller woman the importance of making contact with the Witch Clan.
She will not give up. You always knew she wouldn’t back down. It’s in her blood. You will have to do it tonight.
As they come within sight of the spring, Sela draws her weapon and waits. She watches silently as the champion bids Cress a good night and retreats back up the path, leaving the other woman to make her way alone down to the water’s edge.
Kill her first and then the champion. Weigh down the bodies with stones and throw them into the spring where the water runs deepest. No one will be any the wiser.
Setting her spear down on the sandy bank, Cress peels off the leathers that fit her like a second skin, stripping down to the shirt of fine chain mail that sits underneath. Sighing with relief, she roughly pulls the thin metal garment over her head to free her tired body of their bonds. The last item of clothing to be discarded is a blue cloth undershirt she wears closest to her skin, leaving her naked before the sparkling pool.
Do it now when she is naked and unarmed. Do it.
In the pale moonlight, Sela can make out the cuts and bruises long healed over that adorned Cress’ olive skin like a swirling tattoo. Each mace blow and knife thrust that her Captain has taken in her stead over the years mapped out in a landscape of flesh. Flesh that she can never hope to touch.
DO IT. KILL HER. END THIS.
Putting the axe aside, Sela watches as Cress dives into the water with a quiet splash and disappears into the darkness.
***
The sentries were the first to report signs of an encampment at first light. Smoke from an open fire sighted some distance north of their location. As Cress sleeps, Sela instructs the champion to scramble the scouts and have the pack ride out immediately. Telling the woman that it would not do for them to be caught unawares by a rival hunting party, her new orders are to ride north deeper into the Nameless Hills to the source and report back later. The champion listens silently and then shouts the orders to the pack. They are to break camp and prepare to ride out.
Returning to their tent where Cress lies slumbering, Sela runs her hand gently across the back of the blue cloth undershirt her fingers travelling over the liturgy of pain etched into the rough, uneven skin.
“Sela?”
Cress mumbles as she turns towards the other woman’s touch.
“SSShhhhhhh, it is still early sleep a while more.”
Sela replies as her fingers find the nerve endings at the back of Cress’s neck and press down hard.
***
It is almost twilight when Cress finally wakes. Her head is spinning and she needs a drink. There is a water skin left out for her within reach. She takes a sip but her nausea returns and she throws up sick to her stomach. Suddenly she stops. All she can hear is the overwhelming silence of the hills. Wrong.
Struggling to her feet, she throws on the chain mail shirt and reaches for her spear before stumbling out of the tent. She leaves the leathers untouched; she cannot manage them with her shaking hands. The camp is silent, dark and empty. Abandon. Even her prized black charger is gone.
“What have you done?” The question is directed at the lone figure sitting by the fire.
She’s awake. She looks pale.
“What I should have done days ago, when I first leant of your orders.”
Sela’s voice is flat and emotionless, the voice of a woman a thousand miles away.
She’s worried for her warriors. I can smell her fear.
“Where is my wolf pack? What have you done to them?”
Cress asks fighting back the tears. She knows Sela and the games she plays, games that more often than not, end in a trail of blood.
“They are in the higher hills hopelessly lost and scattered. I sent them after a phantom smoke signal, a lure by the hunting party that has been tracking us these past few days. You know that. You’re Witch Clan. You know as well as I do that the blood hawks were a warning to us to turn back. A warning you chose to ignore.”
“You led them into a trap?”
“I didn’t need to do that. Your champion was too happy to oblige, once I gave her your appointment. She so very much wanted to be pack leader; she would have ridden the whole lot of them into Hell for the chance.”
Sela replies with a wolfish smile as she slowly stands and makes her way menacingly towards Cress.
“You lie. She would never have ridden out without me.”
Such innocence.
“I told your champion that you were taken gravely ill and that I would stay to do the last rites as your liege lord. She was to send the scouts for me when she located the encampment. For all intents and purposes your precious champion left you behind to die.”
“Where is my horse?”
“She took him. He was her right now as pack leader. No matter I will get you another when we return, a larger, better horse. You will have the pick of the stables as usual. If there is nothing to your liking I will have the courtiers arrange for a private showing by the finest horse merchants in the City. Perhaps we will get you a destrier, you always wanted one.”
Sela’s touch is soft as she reaches out to gently brush the tears off Cress’ face. She believes that in time, Cress will forgive this betrayal as she has all the others in the past.
“Liar, if she though I was dying she would have left him behind to enable my spirit to ride to the underworld. She would have accorded me that last honour as pack leader. Why do you treat me like a child?
Finally an opponent worthy of your guiles, I see now why you are so fond of her.
Sela smiles sadly as she cups Cress’s face with her hands, pulling the smaller woman in close.
“You were always too smart for your own good. I did not want the hunting party to realise you were missing from the pack. They would have sent the trackers after us. I told your champion you were in my bed and not to disturb my pleasure. You have quite a reputation for being my whore.”
“What were her orders?”
“Her orders were to send out the scouts, take your charger and ride out with the pack. Like any good warrior, she did as she was told without question and with a straight face. You do know she was sweet on you, or is that the other way round?”
“She was my champion. I relied on her as my next in command. I was never improper in my dealing with her or any of my pack.”
“Are invitations to midnight swims part of your normal dealings with your wolf pack?”
“You followed me last night, spied on me. I should have known. I sent her away; I swam alone as you already know. I am no one’s whore, least of all yours.”
Cress’s tone is angry, cutting as she pulls away from the other woman’s touch.
“You are my vassal. I do as I please.”
She hates you. If you were not her liege lord, she would gut you like a fish.
“Why? Why did you do this?”
“Do you need to ask? You know why.”
The punch is hard and sharp, drawing blood.
She draws first blood. Now finish this.
“After all these years, you still hit like a girl. Haven’t you learnt anything I taught you?”
Sela smiles as she wipes the blood off her face. She did not expect the smaller woman to strike her.
“You bastard, you did all this because some witch woman quit your bed a long time ago? I trained those warriors myself; they would have fought to the death for you.”
Cress is almost shouting, livid with rage.
“Is that what you think? That I sacrificed my best wolf pack for some witch girl? How you under estimate me like that idiotic demon axe.”
“Sela, what are you talking about? Are you hearing voices in your head again? When was the last time you slept?”
“It’s the axe, Cress. That dammed bloody axe. How many times do I need to tell you that it whispers to me, speaks to me?”
Cress pauses unsure how to continue. Sela is calm. Too calm. She gripes her spear harder, feet spaced out, mentally preparing herself to fend off a blow from the axe that doesn’t come.
“Ask me, Cress. Ask me the question.”
“Why then, if not because of her?”
“Because the Witch Clans killed themselves for nothing. All that death to keep that witch and her harpies in their City of gold. Look at us, Cress. Look at what we have become. The bards used to sing ballads of our bravery, songs of your cunning. Look at us now. I am a monster, and you, you by association are now a monster’s bitch. We are nothing but fat bloated parasites sucking the life out of the land and its people. We rape, pillage and kill. What we don’t take, we destroy. We are no better than the Risen King. We only think we are.”
“The return of the Risen King will mean death and suffering to thousands of innocents. What is wrong with you? Why cannot you see that? Does nothing have any meaning left for you?”
“Only you.”
“What? Sela, what are you talking about?”
“I watched you fighting alone that day out on the river. You were so beautiful you took my breath away. The witch girl didn’t leave me because of her tribe. She left me because of the way I look at you.”
“You love her. You’re always been in love with her.”
“I was a motherless pup, what did I know of love? Love was a full belly, a warm place to sleep.”
Sela reaches out to stroke her face and Cress flinches from her touch.
“Don’t touch me.”
“It wasn’t love. It was lust, it was need, it was desire.”
“You’re insane. I should have known, acted to stop you and now it is too late.”
Sela chuckles, the sound is low and unpleasant.
“Stop me. You want to stop me? My chestnut mare is grazing over the hill. Kill me, take her and ride out into the higher hills.
“Sela…I…”
“Kill me, Cress. Take my horse and ride out. If your wolf pack is as good as you claim they can hold their own for a day or so against a Witch Clan hunting party until you find them.”
“I…”
“Do it, Cress. Kill me. Do it if you want to see your wolf pack again.”
“Stop it. Why are you doing this to me?”
“Don’t you see, Cress? I couldn’t bring myself to kill you and you would not order your wolf pack to turn back. Don’t you understand you left me with no choice?”
“I hate you.” Cress screams, running forward her spear briefly flashing and then falling still.
***END
