Conquest of Avalon

Laura IX: In Free Fall

Laura stared down at the ominous black ship rising up to meet her, reinforcements for the armada she’d just about decimated. Actually, that’s only a tenth, and I got more like a fifth. A little better, at least, though it wasn’t exactly worth dying for.

Surrounded by ice, it was hard to see too much below, but Laura tried to aim directly for the top of the mysterious black airship, hoping to find a seam to split with a well timed slice of fire. Her icy decoys fell beside her, shattering one by one as Avaline pistols blasted them apart. Three, then two, then one.

A streak of silver cut across the sky, rising from the top of the ship. The trail lingered briefly in the air before fading away, rising above the last decoy as it crumbled away, shattered by whatever attack had left the trail.

A new pistol? Perhaps the reinforcements had brought something better suited to picking her out of the sky. Though the streak of light was definitely strange. If so, though, it was strange that the thundering fire of the other guns stopped just after. Before, they’d only done that when Laura had maneuvered them to endanger their own fleet if they did, and even then, not once her commandeered ship was considered lost.

But if the silver streak came from the black ship, the reinforcements, and the rest don’t want to risk shooting it…

The moment she realized, Laura melted through her icy cover with a hot swing of her sword, intercepting the thrust of a silver sword just in time to stop it from gutting her. Behind the weapon was a slender woman with short blonde hair contained in a gold headband, dark circles under her eyes, a white and gold cape flapping in the wind behind her. And if it’s her attacking on the downward stroke, she was one slashing upwards as well.

As for the eyes, perhaps it was a consequence of the magic, draining her energy? Maybe she just didn’t sleep very well? Laura was just starting to compare her to a racoon when the girl pulled her sword back, diving down beneath Laura then swinging it back upwards for another thrust.

Perhaps I’ll get a real fight after all, Laura thought as she blasted herself up and away from the tip of the sword. It was time to slow down anyway, unless she wanted to be scraped off the black ship when it landed. Laura swung down again, trying to level off enough for a safe landing, but something knocked her off course at angle as another silver streak filled the air. And the weight was wrong.

She looked down to see the racoon girl’s hand gripped tightly around Laura’s ankle, her left already readying the sword.

Laura matched the swing with her own, firing out a burst of flame just in time to land safely-ish atop of the black ship, the impact finally enough to knock the racoon girl free.

“I like your sword,” Laura tried, pulling herself up and holding out her own. “Even if mine’s better. It was a gift from the new Hearth Spirit, infused with his magic, so I can hardly blame you that—”

Another silver streak curved up as the girl traveled upwards hundreds of feet in an instant, cleaving the airship above them in half. Another streak curved downwards, stopping just short of the black ship as the racoon girl landed facing Laura, wearing the same dead-eyed expression she’d used in the air.

“Siglinde, the sacred twin of light,” Laura heard from behind her, whipping around to see a short-haired blonde man, shockingly similar to the racoon girl in his angular features yet lacking her characteristic sunken eyes. “It’s said it can rend apart the very heavens.” He threw his cape back, letting its black and blue catch the wind. “It’s a privilege that you Imperial scum can even witness it, an honor to watch your legs twist in the wind as your upper half grasps futilely for life!”

Laura laughed, igniting her sword. “A cleaver of the skies, and they sent you to babysit a few balloons? I’m quaking in my boots.” Still, she surveyed the binder cautiously, trying to assess his capabilities. “You certainly took your time showing up. I’ve already decimated your precious fleet twice over, and now you’ve given me a shiny black pearl as the crown jewel of the set.”

The man smiled, a dark spear coalescing in hands from the shadows. “The King’s floating masterpiece, the Aerial Armada. But it pales in comparison to the power of binding!” He threw the spear towards Laura, slow enough for her to swipe it aside with her sword, but the flames dimmed where the darkness touched it. “You cultists are tyrants and fools, but still you give the might of the spirits’ magic the respect it deserves. Our duel shall be one for the ages, the legendary clash between the Moonstrike and a wicked pirate of the skies!”

I never fancied myself a pirate, but I’m pretty sure they’re more concerned with stealing ships and cargo than sinking the entire fleet. “Then prepare yourself, for you face the last sage of Flammare!” She could have given her full introduction; a proper duel would make for a better death, in theory, but Laura found that she didn’t want to give this guy the satisfaction.

She threw flame in his direction, more to test his response than out of any expectation it would make a difference, but rather than reveal his capabilities, he merely rolled aside, letting it singe the edge of his cape.

Maybe he doesn’t have a good answer to it?

Laura took that as cue, throwing crescent after crescent with her sword, advancing on the Avaline binder with every slash, waiting for a display of magic or perhaps a pained cry, but neither came.

When the flames cleared her sightline, Laura saw that the man had remained in place, holding what looked like a bottle of perfume in one hand and his nearly-unused dark lance in the other. A dark cloud hung in the air around him, seemingly protecting him from the fire.

But my flames are a pure expression of magic, not a simple object. Laura leapt towards him once more, this time drawing on the sword for ice to knock him clear of the ship.

Sure enough, the cloud didn’t stop it, though the binder still managed to jump over the projectile.

That’s fine. Now I know how to get you.

Laura continued towards him with slash after slash, forcing him back further and further towards the sloping edges of the airship, some kind of fall increasingly inevitable as he ran out of stable ground.

“I’ll admit, it’s nice to have a real duel again. I’ve been stuck picking off foot soldiers and equipment for far too long. It’s nice to stretch my legs again. If you—”

Laura roared with pain as another silver flash streaked across her vision, a bloody gash opening over her ribcage.

“Klein, we talked about this,” the racoon girl uttered in a low voice, stepping closer to Laura as the other binder pulled back from the edge. “You have to stop wasting time with theatrics. We find what she knows about the Gauntlet, and then we kill her.”

“Well—” Laura winced, trying to ignore her wound. “That doesn’t exactly make me want to talk.” Stepping carefully, Laura walked backwards, trying to move out from the middle of the two of them without slipping down the balloon. “What Gauntlet, anyway?”

Laura felt her back writhe with pain as the scars from fighting Tauroneo reopened with a silver flash, fighting to stay upright. The stitches in her shoulder ripped open in the same instant, the fire twisting its way up her arm; weeks of injuries were back in full force, trying to pull Laura back into the abyss.

“Clarine! We didn’t even ask her yet!” Klein swept his arm dramatically, pulling out the same bottle from his belt. He unscrewed the lid as his sister pulled a white paper fan inscribed with crescent patterns from her own.

“She doesn’t know anything. No reason to keep her alive.” She waved the fan above the bottle, and Laura tried her best to ready herself for some kind of wind attack through the pain, but it never came. Instead, a whirling sphere of air surrounded the black ship, instantly killing the roar of the wind and dimming the sun. It lingered even after the racoon girl put the fan back and reached for her sword.

“Agh.” Laura bent over, her back on fire. She felt her nails digging into her fist, fighting to keep her hand from going numb, fighting to deny them the satisfaction of crying out in pain. “I know! I totally know!” What was that artifact that Fernan said the bard fought Aurelian with, again? “The Gauntlet of Euler. Magnifico had it!”

“Eulus,” Klein corrected. “But you’ve obviously heard of it.”

Clarine’s face curled into a frown. “Wonderful. Now we have to interrogate you.”

“We’ve been graced with an invaluable opportunity, dear sister, a trail to our master’s birthright delivered right to our door!” His fist closed, the dark lance dispersing back into the shadows. “Girl, allow us to introduce ourselves! Pupils of the Binder Dominant, loyal knights of Oxton, and masters of the sacred twins! You dirty pirates ought to cower before us and beg for mercy and trust in the honor of Rivough.” He fell silent for a moment, then directed a glare at his sister.

“I refuse to lower myself to this pageantry.”

Laura grasped her sword with white knuckles as she gauged the distance, anticipating only one shot.

Klein frowned. “So spoke Lady Clarine Sophara Rivough, the Sunflash, master of the sacred twin of light!”

Pushing through the pain, Laura leveled her sword at the Avaline twins, winding back for a rod of ice that would knock them clean off the ship. “And I am Laura Eugènie Bougitte, pupil of the very sun in the sky!” She slashed her sword, conjuring forth a line of ice that—

Didn’t come out.

Klein smiled. “They told us about your little tricks. Fire and ice, opposed domains joined in one. Fitting, for the traitor cultist of a fire monster, but you will find that your fell sorceries have no power here. Harvested from the great Lepus himself, Leputian Cordial blots out all magic it touches, and thanks to the Crescent Fan, even the rushing wind as we soar through the skies wasn’t enough to save you from inhaling it.”

Bullshit. Laura reversed swing, slashing back with fire hot enough to—

Sputter in the air for but an instant before being snuffed out.

But I bet they don’t about a sage’s last resort. Inhaling deep, Laura let the air fill her lungs, then spat an inferno of life-fueled flame independent of the sword, a ball of fire hot enough to melt the flesh from…

Nothing.

Laura stared in horror at the pathetic puff that barely made it clear of her mouth. Spirits of Darkness could do things like this, she knew, blotting out magic with their domain just as Khali had the sun. But all of them had been exiled with her, their sages all banished or killed off over a hundred years ago. There’d never been reason to think she’d have to fight one, and no one to practice against even if she could.

Of course, it shouldn’t be a surprise that some Avaline fucks managed to steal the power from one as they herded the rest out the door. Somehow, Laura hadn’t thought of it, and now it was costing her dearly. If I’d known from the start, I could have closed the distance, used my strength against them with the blade’s edge, magic or no… But I might as well wish for Aurelian to come incinerate them for all the good that thinking will do.

“This is taking too long.” Clarine flashed to silver again, slowing to a stop in front of her, and Laura saw streaks of red lace across her fingers, Volobrin’s sword falling to the ground in front of her. “Talk, or die.”

“F-fuugghh,” Laura tried, failing to fully get out the ‘fuck you’, she’d been going for.

“Fear not, degenerate. I, Klein Isaac Rivough, wielder of Sigmund, the sacred twin of darkness, vow that if you tell us all you know of the Gauntlet of Eulus, I shall make your death swift and painless! Far better than a vile cultist such as you deserves!”

Funny, when I flew up here, that’s more or less what I was hoping for. “I—” Laura sucked in air through her teeth, licking her lips to distract from the wounds of her flesh. “I know your king brought it with him on his false mission of diplomacy to assassinate Duke Fouchand, and he lost it when we beat him and threw him in jail!” She spat. “The two of you are destined for the same. That’s all you’re getting out of me!”

“A pity,” Clarine said, stabbing her twice through the chest. She lifted Laura over the edge of the ship with one hand as she wheezed for air. “Are you sure?”

Laura replied by spitting blood in her face.

Clarine shrugged, letting go. Laura just barely managed to see her wiping away the blood as she tumbled towards oblivion.

Her entire body pulsated with furious fire, tearing her apart from within and without. The moment Laura felt her body pass the darkened threshold of the Crescent Fan’s whirling bubble, she drew on her life once more, trying to roar enough fire to reverse her descent.

But, of course, the same limp sputterings were all that came out, snatched by the rushing air before Laura could even regret her predicament. However long that dark cordial lasted, it was probably long enough to see her splat against the ground. The sword might have worked again outside the bubble, but it was lost, no use to her now.

The binders above certainly believed so, or their soldiers would still be trying to shoot her out of the sky. Laura had never been less relieved not to be shot at.

And why do I care? This is what I wanted, right? She might have hoped to destroy more of the ships, but sending so many of them crashing to the ground in flames was still a worthy accomplishment, a death to two unfamiliar binders nothing to be shamed by.

In every way Laura could imagine, this is what she’d been seeking ever since leaving Torpierre, the only way left to die with honor after failing everyone.

Flammare, Valentine, Aurelian... It was easier to blame Fernan for everything, but it had been Laura who let them all down, choosing a shameful exile over a futile attempt to make things right. And now...

As much as her life had been ruined, as bad as all her problems were, none of them seemed quite so bad as the fact that now she was plummeting to her death without the slightest hope of recovery.

One final regret before the end. I could have done more. I should have. I chased a worthy death, but not a worthy life... Ever since Aurelian died, or maybe even before that. Meeting Lucien and Leclaire, perhaps. That horrific episode seemed as fitting an inflection point as any.

Laura felt her face smack into the wet stormclouds, the air filled anew with the rolling rumbles of thunder as lightning split the air. If she was unlucky, a bolt would get her before she even reached the ground.

Not that it would make a difference either way.

Laura tried fire, again and again, willing more and more power from herself, until the blast would have killed her anyway had she succeeded, but all of it amounted to nothing, smothered in darkness.

I’m sorry, Aurelian, Valentine. Flammare... Perhaps not. She’d tried to sway him countless times from the course that had provoked his death, all to no avail. The Hearth Spirit had been committed to his violent clash, heedless of the danger he was putting himself in. So perhaps it’s fitting I was his sage. Soon enough, both of them would be naught but a memory.

The rain stung as it impacted Laura’s wounds, filling her face and eyes with water.

But I want to keep going, damn it! What did it matter that soon her pain would be over, when everything else would be ending as well?

A darkened shape lunged out of the sky, slowly catching up to her. Probably one of the binders coming to finish me off, though I’m not sure why they’d bother. The closer it got, the better it matched her speed, until they were falling together, the ground growing ever closer with every second.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated her pursuer, a hooded figure atop some kind of winged, white-feathered sloth, its limbs tucked in close to its belly. Laura scrambled for options, trying to prepare herself for at least one final spiteful attack, but the hooded figure’s assault never came.

The mount flew closer, snatching Laura in its claws before she could think of a way to fight back, then pulled out of the dive, veering up so sharply that Laura felt her blood flung free from her body through her many wounds.

Whatever you want with me, you’ll have to be quick. She didn’t, couldn’t fight back as the creature leveled off, swinging around for a course towards the Rhan. The riverbanks were flooded from the storm, one massive ship dashed to pieces floating with the currents, rising and falling with the water that carried them.

But one ship was still afloat, a tiny thing headed east. Laura let out a weak laugh, feeling blood gurgle in her throat. The Piqûre de Moustique. Duchesne’s ship.

“Couldn’t let you get my revenge for me,” the hooded figure said as her creature alighted on the ship. “Nerio, help me carry her!”

Nerio and Duchesne rushed to the deck of the ship, immediately soaked with rain, and together grabbed a limp Laura from the creature’s claws.

“The soldiers in Fleuville will have seen that,” Duchesne complained in a low voice. “My rates just doubled. I warned you not to go.”

“And I expressly forbid it!” Nerio added. “Endangering yourself in that storm for some foolhardy sage is unbefitting of a princess! You have all of Micheltaigne to think of.”

Duchesne’s eyes lit up at the information. “Tripled.”

Nerio swore, shifting his grip on Laura, but his relief at his ward’s return was clearly enough to offset his irritation.

“Princess...?” Laura croaked weakly as they set her down on a bed inside the cabin.

Her rescuer lifted her hood, revealing the blue haired girl from the tavern, not exactly a surprise after seeing her knight here too. “Princess Mars Arèse de Salhaute, last heir to the High King of Micheltaigne.” She bent down over the bed, grasping Laura’s hand. “You shamed me for fleeing, then took off into the storm. Mere minutes later, their wicked machines came crashing down in a rain of fire. I wasn’t going to let you take them all on by yourself.”

“Oh,” Laura rasped, feeling her consciousness slip away. “That’s nice.”

Maybe I can thank you properly, if I ever wake up.