When her eyes fluttered open against the day's bright waning light, she watched for a few moments as both white and black clouds floated by. The sky was most vibrant blue, but as the sun began to set, streaks of orange and pink added a touch of whimsy to the canvas. Weightless flakes of ash drifted on a gentle breeze, yet their sight didn't alarm her. She was comfortably lying against a warm firm mass enjoying the rays of sunlight filtering down through the clouds and trees to her. Her hand rested on a soft patch of... something. The feel of it reminded her of one particular fluffy barn cat back home on her family's estate. Its long calico fur always needed a good brushing, and Evelyn was happy to escape from her mother's lessons to groom him. She closed her eyes imagining the barn with all its noises and smells... An odd metallic stench reached her, along with the sound of buzzing flies. When her short-term memory returned, Evelyn's eyes widened and her hand ceased its petting. Turning her head slowly to the right, she held her breath as she gazed upon what she was slumped against.
With a scream, she pushed herself off of the dead dire wolf, scooting backward on her hands and butt. The animal was on its side with its throat torn open. A long pink tongue hung from its mouth and flies buzzed in and out of it. When she bumped into something else that was smooth and bulky, her hair skirted her shoulders turning in shock again to see a dead Axlan impaled upon a solid tree branch. His arms were positioned as if he had cradled something - or someone - and his eyes gazed down heavily at whatever he had been holding. Looking around frantically panting in fright, she realized they had been thrown quite a distance to where earlier in the battle, Evelyn had used a force spell to knock the canine off of their lioness.
Off to the side licking her wounds sat Kitsa herself atop a long rock that jutted out from the ground. She tilted her thick head to one side, Apologies Phoenix, I had thought you'd be more comfortable resting on the wolf than the man.
Groaning at her aches and pains, Evelyn slowly stood, "Was letting me just lay in the dirt not an option? I hate big dead furry animals." She cringed in disgust while the cat gave her a sharp look. "How long have I been out for?"
Not long, but our people search for you. I couldn't risk leaving you to fetch them in case there were still enemies about. I've tried to call them, but I'm too weak.
Her brow creased in concern walking over to Kitsa. Her skin was littered with bites and deep claw marks. "You need to be seen by Dhara." Looking back towards her path of destruction, Evelyn realized she had flown through the fire that engulfed the forest. "I suppose I need to do something about that fire." Raising her arms, she found her mana had been partially restored by the blast from the red lyrium. As she touched her magic, something on her torso began to glow, "What the--?" The symbols that Hakkon carved in her skin were pulsing like the mark on her palm. Causiously she continued to use her magic, dousing what fires she could see through the dense brush.
Turning back to Kitsa, they watched the light fade from the god's markings. The feline grumbled, It seems you've been branded by a god, Phoenix.
She huffed with a weary look, "Please tell me that's a good thing. Is that different than my mark?" The cat simply licked her bloodied paw before grooming herself with it. She sighed at her silence, placing her hands on her hips. "Right, a problem for later. We need to get you back to the Hold. Can you limp yourself back with me? I'd prefer it if you weren't here alone. As you said, we don't know who could be out here still." With a slow stiff stretch and yawn, the Hold Beast gingerly put weight on her hurt leg, hopping down from her perch. "I'm not leaving these bodies here, back up," she gently pushed the lioness to a safe distance before unleashing a hot torrent of flame at the dead. They did not deserve a sky burial for their betrayal of the gods and Avvar. Their actions were detrimental to their people, and not only had they been weakened through war and the use of red lyrium, but Korth Mountain-Father was suffering. Regardless if Axlan was responsible in some way for it or not, or if he fell victim to the 'goddess,' his traitorous actions had only helped this infection propagate.
Having obliterated their corpses, the two made the slow walk out of the forest back to the battlefield. With her rage cooled, her heart skipped a beat at the carnage spread out across the meadow that had once been full of excitement over the Thane's knotting. The stage where they had stood had caved in from the warriors fighting on it; the bouquets of cheerful and fragrant flowers that decorated the aisle were scattered and overwhelmed by the sight and stench of death; and the sounds of joy were replaced with the moans of the wounded and dying. Images of her severely wounded friends and family flashed through her mind: Cullen drenched in blood; Bran's shoulder cut to the bone; Rylen's broken bones; Owayne's shredded leg from the dire wolf; and Cassandra's sundered armor. With their fate unknown after the red lyrium idol exploded, she found herself averting her eyes from the bodies being arranged in the field.
The Skymother's birds had descended from the heavens to reclaim the fallen warriors. Both clans worked to ready the bodies for the avian undertakers who worked efficiently in groups. The ruckus of the caws they raised was such that it could wake the dead, but served only to call the Lady's other pets to their sacred duty. While the clothing of the dead was removed, the thick clay that they used to hunt was globbed on for modesty while loved ones said goodbye. By the time it dried, it was of no consequence to the scavengers who easily pecked it away to get at the flesh. Some bodies were taken back into the Hold for sky burial another day as a choice of the family wanting to make additional offerings to the gods. Several others who had known the fallen gathered around the bodies to say goodbye before the brazen birds, as if knowing it was time, moved to pick the bones clean.
Yet even so, her treacherous gaze caught sight of something that shot a sharp jolt of terror through her causing her heart to pound.
It was the kind of dread one was supposed to feel before her wedding, not after it. Careful as to where she was placing her bare feet as she navigated the field, she couldn't help the chills raking her body. Nervously pulling down Cullen's ruined wedding shirt, she hugged herself trying to imagine his arms surrounding her in their safety. To her left was where she and Dorian slaughtered a third of the enemy force. To her right, a bald patch of dirt stood out in contrast to the grass bent down around it where she must've destroyed the idol. With a hand to halt Kitsa, she scampered over to the spot where she found her weapons and the shattered lyrium crystal. Unlike before, its glow had vanished, leaving it lifeless. She sensed nothing from it and sighed in relief until her eyes caught a glare off an ornately styled helmet.
A few yards away lay Cullen's lion helm caked with blood and mud. Quickly running over to it, she picked it up searching about frantically holding it to her heart. Her wild messy hair whipped about, spying his unrepairable shield, but no sword or… Evelyn couldn't bring herself to even think it, and with her weapons and his helm rejoined Kitsa in their march back behind the walls of Redhold.
The closer they got to the tall wooden walls, the more people paused in their tasks or groaned to bow a head to her. Questions flew at her from everywhere, and she answered them absently, unsure if the words even made sense. Her mind was scanning the faces and the landscape for a tall man with blonde hair missing his wedding shirt. She continued through the crowd growing denser around her, giving kind touches here and there with as much grace as she could muster, but the worried grimace on her face couldn't be helped. It dawned on her then as her mind replayed their voices, that they had been offering sympathy to her…
"Evie! Kitsa!" The Augur ran over to them immediately hugging them both in turn. Relieved tears glistened in her green eyes, "Thank the Father, yer both returned safely to us! The Thane was beside himself when we couldn't find ye, despite the Hold Spirits telling us ye'd return in your own time."
The Lady of the Hold grabbed the young mage's shoulders, pleading in desperation, "Where is he? Is he alright?"
The look Dhara made said it all. Biting her lip and diverting her gaze, it seemed Cullen's fate was hanging in the balance. "Ilara's taken him to your home to work on him. He's badly wounded…"
Evelyn didn't wait for her to say more and pushed past her. "Take care of Kitsa!" She yelled back taking off in a sprint. Garnering sad looks along the way through the market, when she reached the doors to their home she burst through them, throwing down the weapons and helm alerting them to her arrival.
At her entrance, the scene unfolding before her stilled like a painting except for the two in the center of the room. A chorus echoed about the large room voicing their relief at seeing her back safe and in better condition than all of them. Slowly she walked towards the center-right of the room where Cullen was laid out on the dining table. The teal glow of Ilara's healing magic created a haze about his form. He was growling and groaning, gripping the wooden table hard with white knuckles. Standing over him, the healer held her arms over his chest, spreading and flexing her fingers. Her silhouette looked as if it were weakening as it swayed slightly like a thin reed in the wind.
The others around the room were all in different states of distress. Sitting in Cullen's large chair in the corner was Owayne nursing a bottle of some libation. "Evie, thank the Maker you're back! Not sure I believed the word of these Hold Spirits, but I'm glad-- ow!" His leg was propped up and Cassandra was stitching up the long claw marks left there from the wolf. As she sewed, Evelyn could see she blinked more often than usual, causing her to think she was hiding tears. Though at her brother's blasphemous words, she glared at him.
In another chair rested Rylen already bandaged with Rosalie's efficiency. The Master of the Hunt had been staring off with a deep frown watching Ilara as if under a spell. His beau rushed about boiling water and grinding herbs with wet cheeks. Her blonde hair looked stressed, with wisps flowing freely from her low ponytail. The eldest Rutherford emerged from Bran's room wiping her tears away angrily, clearly wanting to put on a brave front. Pointing and directing her two children to prepare herbs and bandages, they stared back at their mother in a state of confusion at the scene before them. The gaze of her youngest, Rosemary, kept darting over to a body that lay draped in a sheet of linen.
Cullen tried to sit himself up ignoring the protests, and it was only by her gentle shushing that he settled back down. "Shh, I'm here," she smoothed back his dirty locks, watching the visible relief wash over him. Dried blood was smeared from his nose and mouth at an odd angle. Only having come closer she realized he was coughing it up, having stepped in it on the floor. He gripped her hand with a crushing force while trying to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lip, "Save your strength. Ilara," the weary mage looked a decade older, "what's his condition?"
Her usually sweet tone was strained, sucking in sharp breaths here and there, "His lungs are punctured. He was all but crushed to death by Axlan, Rylen too."
"Aye, but yer fool of a husband insisted she heal me first," his friend added.
"My mana is almost exhausted along with our supply of lyrium. I've got one more vial, but…" Ilara trailed off blinking a few times as if her vision was blurring. "Even if I take it, I fear I don't have the power to heal him. Rylen wasn't as bad. I'm hardly able to keep him alive. You could do it though."
Panic rose like a geyser within her, "Me?! No, I…" She looked at her dying husband as he sputtered more blood off the side of the table. Her sisters-in-law stood trembling beside her. "I'm no healer, the Senior Enchanters in Ostwick always said my healing was too overwhelming… I could kill him! Wh-where's Dorian or Dhara?!"
Mia's voice rasped out with a dead tone, "They are with the rest of the clan. They need healing too." Taking a step forward, the matron's red grief-stricken eyes pleaded with her, with Rosalie hooked in her arm sobbing, "Please sister, you must try. Cullen is…" A choked sob surprised them both when it came up, and Evelyn couldn't help the tears welling up in her as well.
With a hopeless huff, she spun from the two women, tears falling gazing down at Cullen. He reached a shakey bloody hand up to brush her cheek, "It's alright, I know you'll take good care of Redhold."
Evelyn's eyes widened, a strangled obstinate laugh escaping her lips, "You think you're getting out of this marriage that easily?" A spike of anger came through in her tone at the thought of him leaving her, "If so, you got another thing coming, Rutherford. I…" She bent down and lowered her voice almost to a growl, "I'm not going to let you die, you hear me?"
"Evelyn, I--" A wave of immense pain seized him before he could finish.
The healer whimpered, "My Lady, I cannot go on for much longer. Please…"
The Phoenix roughly pushed up her sleeves and downed the last vial of lyrium to fortify her mana. Standing on the opposite side of the table from Ilara, she held hands out. As if preparing for battle, she shook her sore muscles into action, "You're going to walk me through this, right Lar?"
The mage nodded, "Just join your mana into my spell so I can stop casting." Following orders, immediately Ilara slumped to the ground for a moment. Catching herself on the table, Evelyn held the spell, which was easy enough at least until the petite golden-haired mage recovered her wits. The few minutes that passed as Rosalie got Ilara water and a chair to sit on beside the Phoenix, Evelyn's eyes were trained on her husband in concentration. She urged him to take deep breaths and reassured him - and in part her - through her fiery resolve that he would be alright. "Evie," her fellow mage grasped her forearm, "I should be able to direct you through, feeling the spell's energy. Are you ready?"
Swallowing hard and clenching her jaw she exchanged a look of stubborn determination with the other Rutherfords, "I'm ready."
"Close your eyes, healing is about feeling, unlike what you're used to when aiming your spells at enemies. You must rely on your senses." With a deep steadying breath, she did as commanded. "The spell cast on him is one of preservation: neither healing nor hurting him. It's all I could do until help came, which thanks to the gods you did. Can you feel how rigidly it holds his bones in place?" Evelyn nodded, for it was as stable as a stick house on the Storm Coast. "You can relieve some of his pain by finding the inflamed areas."
"How? I've only ever done it through actually touching an injury. I've not the talent to 'sense' it as you do."
"You can touch him but do not break your concentration from the spell. I'll help." Standing, Ilara helped guide Evelyn's hand to the center of Cullen's chest. She gently rested it atop his diaphragm, "From here you should be able to find the pain." Nodding fervently, she would've beamed at the excitement of actually having a thimble full of success at the healing arts, but the circumstance didn't warrant it yet. "Good, now give him what relief you can offer him, banish the pain with your mana."
In a flood of numbing, Cullen let go of the breath he was holding in, panting and blinking his eyes. "Korth's breath!" She would've found the crack in his voice funny if under different circumstances.
"Easy Phoenix or he's not going to be able to feel his toes." That had always been Evelyn's problem with Spirit Healing, she could never regulate the flow of the spells. Her spells were always cast to pack a punch, for when would she ever want to gradually cast any of her Inferno magic? She was no sadist, and her spells required maximum power with each cast. She tried to back her mana down but ended up breaking the perseverance spell. Both mages cried out despairingly as the weight of Cullen's injuries hit him like a ton of rocks. He cringed and winced before his eyes rolled back in his skull and he collasped lifeless.
Panic set into the two mages as they feverishly shouted back and forth, "Hakkon take me! Evie, you need to re-cast the spell over him or he'll die!"
"I can't! I don't know it! I was just holding the one you cast in place!" Her heart pounded wildly making her feel lightheaded.
"Well, I can't, I don't have the mana! You need to try!"
Everyone who could jump up in their various injured states did and huddled around the table, all adding their say into the mix. Mia had already lost her husband, so she was numb and bitter, but Rosalie hid her face in her shoulders sobbing uncontrollably against her. Cassandra was angrily growling and pacing that someone better do something, leaving her brother stitched up to watch the scene before him crumbling. Rylen limped his way over looking at his friend with a quiet sorrow, before bowing his head and mumbling prayers.
"Come, Ros," Mia ushered her to their brother's side, "we must pray to The Lady of the Skies for his soul."
Rosalie complied for a few steps before pushing her elder sister away, "No! I won't give up on him! When has he ever given up on us? When you refused the Thaneship, it was he who fought for our family's legacy. I held his hand through the deaths of his wives and children, and when the Hold Spirits told him of the prophecy. Cullen has put everyone ahead of himself for the past decade, causing immeasurable pain to himself. He deserves more than this!"
Mia scowled snapping back, "And what can you do about it?! Nothing! Not for Bran, and not for Cullen!" Her tone was harsh, and the fragile resolve that Rosalie had mustered, fled in an instant. What hurt Evelyn the most witnessing the sisters at odds was the cruel efficiency of the elder Rutherford's words. The two sisters were opposites in personality, and while they had banded together in the past, without Cullen's firm enduring presence, they were falling apart.
Spinning and running gently into Rylen's protective embrace, he shot a glare at Mia, "Don't raise yer voice at her. We're all at a loss as to what to do."
"Perhaps you and our Head Warrior should've protected him and avoided this all together! You took an oath. He is your Thane."
"Aye, but he's also our best warrior. He will not stand at our backs while we fight battles for him; No, he leads from the front, and that's always been his way. It's why he's Thane."
Mia scoffed spitefully, "A lot of good that's done him."
"Rylen and I stood by him the whole battle," Cassandra stomped over to the widow with a sharp glare that could kill. "You are not a warrior; you have no semblance of the kind of enemy we faced out there. Tradition dictates that the Thanes of opposing sides find each other on the field of battle. Axlan was raving mad speaking of a 'goddess' from in the red lyrium that gave him immense strength. You saw some of the other clansmen who came in dead or wounded; some were missing limbs, but not from a weapon, they were torn from their bodies by the infected. Others were crushed beyond recognition. By Korth, look at all our shield arms!" She struggled to lift hers while nodding towards Cullen's arm. "Ilara healed my broken arm, but mine was shattered as our Thane's is. Our shields never stood a chance against their might."
As her words sank in, surprisingly, Mia's fury dissolved into crippling anguish once more. She was going through stages of grief, and the rest of them were tired mentally and physically from the emotional whiplash of their wedding day paired with a brutal battle. Sometimes Evelyn wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of battles; if she didn't have magic and was simply a daughter, sister, or wife of a soldier. One who busied herself boiling bandages and mashing poultices behind the safety of sturdy walls unknowing of her loved ones' fate until it was over. She supposed it could be considered more stressful in many instances, just waiting, preparing, and praying unable to do much else until they came through the door of their own accord or carried. Mia had chosen a domestic life, and the more Evelyn thought about it, the more she realized her tough act could be just that. The eldest daughter of a Thane who wanted a simple domestic life away from hold politics. The Phoenix knew all too well about family expectations and no doubt Mia had the same placed on her but fought against her assigned destiny. It had to have been incredibly hard, knowing that the two eldest Rutherfords were very much like their father when it came to stubbornness. Like her, she probably suffered through parental disappointment and shaming by one or both of them, all to have the life she wanted. Now her husband was dead, her children fatherless, and her brother was slipping into the Spirit Realm.
Evelyn stared at her and in a moment of decisiveness, vowed she would not be Mia. She would not abandon her duty; she would not hide behind walls; she would not lose her husband.
They all looked to Cullen's broken body lying on the table before them knowing the true source of their frustration. As they did, one by one, they slowly looked to the Phoenix. The room began to grow warmer the brighter her orange eyes glowed, staring at Mia. Raising her left fist in front of her face, she let her mana flow into their bond mark - the one magical tether binding them. Seeing Cullen's mirror hers, she shut her eyes. Through their bond she had a strong connection with him, one she couldn't achieve through her novice healing skills.
Banish the pain, Ilara's words echoed in her mind. Find it, vanquish it. Knowing she was not supposed to tap into her fiery temper when healing, she found the magic worked differently through their bond. Guided by her mana, her arm moved to each of his injuries, hovering just over them. Each wound drank greedily from her mana, taking what it needed with her allowance.
"Skymother bless us, she's doing it... she's healing him!" Ilara's voice caused a stir about the room.
Evelyn didn't chance opening her eyes to see the relief she heard through their sighs and prayers unwilling to hope until she saw him lucid and scolding her to no avail for one reason or another. Gods, what she wouldn't give to just hear him call her 'woman' the way he did when he was cross. Refocusing on the task at hand, she had reconstructed his chest, so that his ribs weren't broken and puncturing his lungs. As if she had her face against his chest, she could hear the strong breaths he was taking compared to the labored wheezing before. There was internal bleeding that she stemmed and cleared, finishing the last of the major injuries.
As she went to move to his shield arm, an icy draft made her shiver. "Easy, Evie. I've got you. You're... a bit heavier... than you look though." Suddenly she was aware Ilara was holding her partially up before another warm set of hands grasped her. Her head lulled to the side briefly catching the flowery scent of Rosalie. "She has used a lot of mana, I'm not quite sure how she's still going. Unfortunately, she hasn't been able to fix his arm."
"She's stubborn, that's how," Owayne chimed in from across the room. "Sometimes she just needs a little push." He paused before yelling a bit gravely directing to her, "Come on Evie, you're not going to quit now, are you? Fight! You're still part Trevelyan, bold in deed!" At her brother's encouragement, she shook off her friends standing up of her own volition. She was going to finish healing Cullen even if it exacted a price from her in the process.
With renewed confidence and a shakey second wind, Evelyn's eyes snapped open to stare at her husband's face. The orange glow of her Phoenix wings lit the room, confirming that this last stretch would indeed be a fight, though not one she was used to. She placed her two hands over his shattered shield arm as she poured the last of her mana into repairing it. Her facial muscles twitched and began to bend over as she fought through the exhaustion. Gritting her teeth and growling to expend every last bit of her mana so he'd have function in his arm, she realized she was losing her battle against the call of the Fade. It yearned to reestablish its connection with the mage and in one last rally of everything in her very being for a sign that he was alive, she slammed her fist on the table. In a jolt, Cullen's eyes opened groggily and he groaned in pain until he saw her.
Numb and unable to do anything but watch him through the slow heavy blinks of her eyelids, a calming relief washed over her. He was alive and after struggling to sit against the stiffness, was now studying her - they were all looking at her. She didn't mind though for she felt light as air in the quiet darkening void of her mind. Her eyes couldn't focus, nor move so everything just became a blur of colors. Another wave of something filled her as her chin fell to her chest, then back as the room spun around her. The dizziness brought on a hot pressure in her ears and a moment later, she awoke in the Fade.