Berkshire
February 1824
Ascot Racecourse saw little use in the winter months, being too cold to draw crowds or put horses through their paces. The empty stands were simply swept clear of snow to prevent damage until the thaw saw to the reopening. In any case, it was unusual for more than two or three people to be present on the course during the winter months.
So tonight's presence was of particular note. A half-a-dozen workmen moved through the stands, hammer and chisel in hand, at work upon the wooden benches. On the course itself, a covered wagon and a pair of guard from the local militia stood, overseeing the work. Despite the brisk cold, the men moved nimbly through their tasks, pulling up wood boards and driving a single silver nail into each before replacing them.
A lone raven observed the scene from atop a weather vane.
Then, suddenly, the night sky was rent by a dazzling flash of lightning and the rolling peal of thunder. The workmen and guards staggered away from the light, throwing hands in front of their faces, and the horses on the carriage bolted, dragging the hapless cart in a half circle as they pulled in opposite directions.
A figure stood atop a flagpole, bow in hand, with a raven perched on her shoulder. She carried a bow already drawn, a golden arrow straining against the string. Sparks jumped playfully around her, and despite the bitter cold, her breath didn't even mist the air.
"Horse racing is a proud tradition! To prey on it's enthusiasts is an act of pure malice and unbefitting of English manners!" She proclaimed, her voice carrying easily over the circuit. "You've drawn the ire of the Maiden of Lightning! Pray that God will forgive you, because I won't!"
And with that, she loosed the arrow with a crack that split the air, leaving a long golden arc behind it. It struck one of the workmen square in the chest, sending him crashing through the bench and floorboards, trailing smoke.
The others dropped their tools and began convulsing as they discarded their human disguises, featured twisting and molting into their true forms.
"I told you it was a trap!" The raven hissed, as Emily leapt out of the way of a bolt of dark flame from the demons below. Emily smiled, gathering another arrow.
"Of course it was! And rather clever, too." The arrow streaked across the course and took one of the demons in the leg, lodging it it's thigh. "It's the sort of thing I simply can't resist. Social event of the season."
She pulled her hand back in a dramatic gesture and a bolt of lightning coursed through the arrow, which caused the demon to burst like an overripe tomato. One of it's fellows, standing close by, was treated to a spray of it's acidic innards, and started flailing, crashing to the floor as it's skin boiled and burst into fires.
Another demon clamoured over the carriage, it's limbs distorted into hinged sawblades, and leapt for her. She discarded her bow into it's claws, and as it grasped for her she buried an arrow into it's collar and used it as a handhold, springing onto it's shoulders and kicking down. As the demon crashed to earth below, she retrieved another bow and used her vantage point to rain further destruction below.
By the time her feet finally made a gentle landing on the track below, the last of the demons was rapidly dissolving into motes of ice. The saw-demon was the only one left, embedded in the ground and thrashing to free itself. There was a minor fire in the stands, but Emily was fairly certain the snow piled atop the roof would put it out before any serious damage could be done.
Hopefully. She had been wrong about that before.
She stalked over to the saw-demon, twirling a loose arrow between her fingers like a conductors baton before driving it through it's throat. It took a bit of twisting, but eventually the demon crumbled into sawdust and leather scraps, leaving Emily humming and spinning the arrow idly.
"See? Nothing to be concerned about." She said, flicking the arrow away. It dissolved into a little wisp of fog, sparks playing inside it.
"H-h-halt! Put the bow down, miss!" A voice stuttered from behind her. She turned to find one of the guards from the carriage, shivering in his overcoat, musket leveled and pointed at her chest. A gleaming bayonet caught the moonlight, seventeen inches of polished steel.
Emily laughed. The sight was plainly absurd. "Do you seriously want to do this?" She managed to gasp.
The man shot her dead in the chest.
Lying flat on her back in the snow, she had a brief opportunity for self-reflection. She felt like she'd just been kicked by a mule; she knew intellectually she had taken rougher hits from demons in the past, including ones that had driven her through rocks and buildings, but this shot had hurt in a way even those hadn't. She didn't seem to have any visible injuries, so it was likely something else was at play. In either case, she suspected she would have a nasty bruise in the morning.
She could feel the crunch of the guard's boots as he approached, so she put the pain aside and kicked herself to her feet. She closed the distance to the guard in an instant, wrenching the smoking musket from his hands and cracking it in half over her knee. The wood splintered and the metal sheared at the point of impact, and she dropped the broken halves at the guard's feet.
The guard backed away, shock etched on his face, and then turned and ran. The other guard, watching from behind the carriage, joined him without a word, leaving his own weapon behind in the snow.
Emily stuck out her tongue at their retreating shapes.
Emily made her way to the carriage. The horses had already pulled loose and long fled during the fighting, leaving the sad little wagon half pitched over at the edge of the track. She could hear somebody moving around inside, and she cracked her knuckles in anticipation.
They had suspected the 2nd Marquess Cornwallis of working directly with the High Court for a while now; his name had come up in one too many foiled schemes. Mister Raven had spent several weeks spying on the man, even reading his mail through a glass lense Emily had ordered for him. They had a chance now to finally confront him, and they had seized on it.
Emily rapped gently on the door of the carriage, a mischievous smile on her face. "Lord Cornwallis, I have a pressing matter to discuss with you, if you could spare the time?" She said, grinning ear to ear.
"Uh, the Marquess is otherwise engaged! Come back later!" A hoarse voice cried from inside. Emily shrugged, grabbed the door by the handle, and pulled it from it's hinges.
She was met with a heavy boot to the face that sent her skidding across the snowdrifts.
She staggered to her feet, bow out and ready. She could see the Marquess, shuddering in the back of the carriage with a pistol in hand, but in front of him was another figure, a short women of dark complexion in a simple white outfit, with a sash and short cape. The only thing on her costume not white as the snow around them was a single black rose, affixed to her collar. She carried in her hand a small golden hammer topped with a orange gem that danced in it's mounting.
"Who are you?" Emily shouted, mounting an arrow and drawing back. The woman ignored her, striding deliberately forward and twirling the hammer by it's handle. Her eyes were fixed, not on Emily, but on her raven companion, perched on post nearby.
"Karas, my old friend. It's been too long." She said, a sardonic tone injected into each syllable. "Here we'd all thought you'd finally given up."
"Esrena." The raven spat back. "You haven't changed a bit."
"Nor have you, I see. Still trying to gather your grand army together?" She gestured nonchalantly at Emily with her hammer. "I see you've lowered your standards."
Emily released the arrow with a crack of thunder.
The woman blurred into motion, knocking the magically-imbued arrow aside with her hammer. It spiraled lazily into the carriage and burst into an electrical storm, blasting the vehicle to splinters.
Emily had just enough time to wince before she was forced to leap back, kicking off the ground to put as much distance as she could between herself and the newcomer. The interloper followed her airborne, overtaking her in an instant, and the hammer came down hard through her bow and into her shoulder, sending her crashing through the roof of the racetrack's lobby.
Emily hit the ground rolling and was back on her feet immediately, though she left a notable dent in the floor from the impact. She could feel a screaming pain in her shoulder, a persistent burning unlike anything she had ever felt as her magic set her broken collarbone with a horrifying crack. The pain tapered off quickly, and she noticed the blow had left a blackened scorch mark against her skin. That was a first; she'd never been marked by an impact before while she was transformed.
The newcomer dropped through the hole in the roof, hammer smoking as she twirled it in an idle pattern. Emily darted, crashing through one of the walls shoulder-first and summoning a new bow. Her assailant followed, sweeping the hammer across in an arc that blew out the rest of the wall before continuing into the ground. The shockwave once again sent Emily sprawling.
A mocking laughter rang through the air as the attacker strode through the remains of the racetrack, her hammer spinning loosely in her hand. "Is this seriously the best you have, Karas?" She mocked, brushing a few splinters from her jacket. "This is pathetic even by your standards."
Emily scrambled back, firing as she went. In her panic, a few of her arrows went wide, and those that found their mark were deflected with almost casual ease by the hammer as her target advanced. Emily could hear the raven calling for her to run, but she planted her feet and drew another arrow, wreathing it in lightning and loosing it.
Her opponent was faster than her; she'd never make it away. Not without a head start.
At the instant the hammer battered it aside, the arrow burst into an electrical lightshow, arcing through the golden handle of the hammer and into it's user, sending her reeling. Emily dashed in, clearing the ground in a matter of seconds and smashing elbow-first into her stomach. She drew back a fist to follow up when she felt a hand grabbing at her ankle, her leg pulled out from under her. She kicked with her other leg, breaking her opponent's grip and sending her into a flip, but she hadn't made it halfway over when the back of the hammer caught her by the neck and sent her spinning. She grabbed her opponent by the wrist like Mister Raven had taught and when her feet hit the ground she transferred the momentum directly into her opponent, throwing her off her feet and following it with the point of an arrow gripped in her hand.
For her troubles, she caught the hammer to the side of her hip, and it rang out like a church bell with the impact. She pitched to the ground hard, tumbling into the smoking remains of the carriage. She came to a rest not far from what she realized was the Marquess's charred corpse, and it took every ounce of her will and magic to not retch from the smell.
Her enemy was already on her feet, hammer twirling again as she advanced. She wasn't even looking at her, instead scanning the sky for her raven companion. Emily's hand, fishing desperately, found another bow, but she found she couldn't gather the strength to draw it.
"I think I liked your knights better, Karas. They actually knew how to fight." She spat, grabbing Emily roughly by the collar and pulling her to her feet. Emily stabbed out with an arrow, and the woman jumped away with ease, raising her hammer back. The little golden weapon hummed in her hand, the orange gemstone flaring with magical energy.
Emily, still dazed and half delirious from pain, cast her mind about for anything that could help her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she watched the hammer come about, the weapon straining against it's wielders grip like it had a mind of its own.
As she brought the golden hammer around in a lethal arc, Emily spun her bowstring in the way, catching the weapon and snagging against it, and she pulled as hard as she could manage in the opposite direction before releasing the bow. The pent-up energies of the hammer swing were redoubled by the magical bow, and it snapped hard against her attackers face with a report like a gunshot, shattering instantly into shards of glass.
Her opponent staggered, a white-gloved hand shooting to her face in shock and coming away smeared red. She finally acknowledged Emily by yelling something obscene, but Emily was already running, feet grazing the top of the snowdrifts as she put as much distance between herself and her opponent as she could. She knew she was being followed, that she'd be caught at any moment.
Her raven fluttered next to her, panic in his voice. "We need to get out of here!" He screeched. Emily could hear the footsteps chasing. She probably had just seconds left.
She stuck out an arm and hissed for the raven to grab hold. He obliged without hesitation, and Emily leaped, sailing thirty feet in the air effortlessly. She could hear the enemy doing the same, just inches behind her.
She knew, instinctively, what she was about to do ought to work. She had never done it, but it felt entirely right. She didn't know how she was supposed to start the process, but Mister Raven had said that with magic like this, calling it out would help.
There, in the distant, a lonely weather-vane atop the stables, easily a quarter-mile away.
"Lightning Arc!" She cried out, and something grabbed her and pulled.
A bewildering instant later, she was standing atop the weather-vane, in defiance of both balance and it's load-bearing capacity. Arcs of lightning were still jumping off her in every direction. She spun in place, watching her shocked opponent descend back to the ground and start after her.
She gave a sarcastic little wave before jumping again, this time out of sight.
---
It took her less than an hour to get home this time, arcing from treetop to treetop and stopping only to get her bearings. The raven stayed quiet for the journey, pausing only to direct her next jump. When she dismissed her transformation at the balcony, the pain came back with a vengeance, and she staggered over and collapsed on her bed, wheezing heavily as several bruises manifested spontaneously across her body. The raven grabbed a trinket from her desk drawer, a little silver holder for an uncut ruby, and deposited it in her hand. She squeezed hard, and instantly the pain began to recede.
"Who was that?" She finally managed, weakly.
The raven gave one of his signature frowns. "A Marshal of the High Court. You just met one of the true rulers of the world."
"What an honour." Emily spat.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until the gem in Emily's hand started smouldering with a high-pitched whine. The raven extracted it with his beak and dropped another gem one in it's place.
"Next time we run into a Marshal, I need to be able to kill them." Emily finally said, staring out the window. "I don't want this to happen again."
The raven fretted about, arranging a row of magical gems for his patient. "Nothing of the sort, my dear. You did admirably, but next time you run into a Marshal, you're going to arc away immediately. Speaking of which, that was extremely impressive, but do warn an old bird before you do something like that in the future."
More silence. "This is going to happen again, and I can't keep running every time." Emily said, each word coming through strained. "Not if I'm going to accomplish anything."
"The Marshals are the best warriors in human history, and that was before they had ten thousand years to hone their skills." The raven said. "You can't hope to fight them alone."
"Maybe I shouldn't be fighting alone."
