Shining Wyrm Trilogy [Original Fantasy/Dragon Fiction]

[Nighzmarquls]

1.ii

The Tyrant Wurm is significantly larger than the common Feral Wurm. I observed one such beast to be between five and eight tons in weight (while their size is somewhat difficult to measure exactly as these monstrous creatures are often seen moving about) and approximately fifty to sixty feet in length. It is a fearsome beast, whose scales are as hard as steel, teeth as knives, and claws deadly swords.

Its breath has a terrible reek of it that can fell men of strong constitution and kill women and children.

Such is the terrible and unwholesome stench it can also slay or sicken livestock and bring to waste whole acres of crops. I have further witnessed this terrible reek to even tarnish copper at five hundred feet.

The Tyrant Wyrm eats everything that men might need for nourishment just to deprive them. But most of all these terrors desire meat, hunting and devouring its favorite food of the noblest and most prized of horses and the most treasured of good cattle. However, they will devour all other manners of animals if convenient if these are not otherwise available as well as men, women and children if they are found alone.

A fearsome beast, and one that is a maturation from the more common and tractable Feral Wurm. The Tyrant Wurm is cunning but contrary to stories entirely incapable of speech. Driven by its wickedness and hunger only it will never stop hunting, devouring the flesh of man or beast until its belly is full and straining to bursting. Even after a large meal, it will continue to search for prey and even while stuffed so full one can spot its plunder heaping out of its throat it will despoil wholesome food out of spite.

Tales say Tyrant Wurms can summon beasts to do their bidding, but believe not! For this is nothing more than a foolish tale. The Tyrant Wurm is a powerful and dangerous creature, but it is not a magician.

Do not be confused by those who spread this tale for they have simply seen the habits of the younger specimens in Feral Wurm, which are known by all learned men to nest with animals.

Verily a creature of such chaos, gluttony and destruction. Its actions are yet comical in their absurdity, and often undone by its own wickedness as when such King Wurm have been known to enter a city gate, steal a single piece of cheese out of avarice and covetousness, and then attempt to flee the town in its equally sinful cowardice.

These Wurms have also been seen eating entire carts of produce simply to deprive honest laborers and lords of their succor, as well as consuming whole granary stores chaff and seed together before moving onto pastures to slay and devour cattle and spoil the seedlings.

Flee these terrifying creatures if possible. They do not seek or hunt man especially, preferring to prey on livestock or bring ruination to fields.

They are truly terrible creatures and a blight on all the world.

But fear not there are ways to ward off all such beasts even these Tyrant Kings of Wurms.

As I can attest by the efficacy among many villages which were once plagued by assault from all sundry of these beasts.

The first and most certain of a guard from wurm deprivations is to carve a wurm of your own from stone or wood. The figure must be larger or at least its eyes higher positioned than the wurm you seek to ward off, and it must be carved in the shape of an equally fearsome beast.

The wurm being sinful in all things is so proud of its own image that it will challenge the figure head to a staring contest. The figurehead being carved and unliving will never back down, and the wurm will eventually give up and leave in shame never to return or succumb to starvation or thirst and die.

Another less efficacious but also more accessible manner of deterring the wurm is to use a mixture of herbs hung in a bag over one's front door.

The wurm while it has a truly poor sense of smell, cannot stand the scent of anything pleasant. For this is anathema to its own stench and wickedness.

A mixture of garlic, rosemary, thyme, and lavender will work well. Wildflowers will suit as well although they will not last as long and should be replaced every three days or as soon as the scent is no longer evident to a healthy nose.

This will drive off the more lazy and less determined of Wurm if there is nothing else to entice them most times.

However, this is not a guarantee, as the wurm is a stubborn beast and may take offense to the pleasantness instead of being driven off. If this should happen fear not, stay hidden and wait as it chooses to attack the warding bag, after a tumult of wroth the beast will eventually leave in a fury.

Replace the warding bag and herbal mixture and it will remain as efficacious as before.

However, despite these wards, remember to always beware the Wurm in all its forms, for it is a creature of great danger and boundless evil. If you encounter one, do not attempt to fight it, nor make use of the warding while it can witness you or any animal or edible beast (which to a Tyrant Wurm is all of them). Their efficacy is only such if there is no mortal flesh to entice its hungers and lure it otherwise.

And remember If you should see any Wurm flee as quickly as you can.

Spread this word far and Wide and Blessings be on you.

-On The Sinful Tyrants by Brother Ordelain, Naturalist and Monk of the Hrothfield Monastery in middle Egelheimvin.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.1

Jewel decided that she rather liked hunting after all.

It had sounded like it might be a very frustrating affair if you went by the way that Adventuring Knights or footmen complained about the dirt and the aches from horseback. Or how they all complained about the way the brush of the woodland tangled in cloaks.

However so far none of these problems were ones that dragons seemed to be concerned with.
She mused on these many qualities that did not matter for her while lightly skipping in slow undulating waves, her body trailing in sweeping arcs. Her head first, followed by her shoulders, and then the rest, each rising along in great rhythmic swells as they strolled through the woods.

Jewel kept herself aloft with little flexes of her mostly-furled wings and the occasional dainty kick off of the ground.

Following along atop trotting horses were Muriel, Alexander and four of the footmen supposedly most skilled in woodscraft and hunting.

While Jewel had stayed away from hunts (as it was mostly not considered proper for a lady like mother), Alex had been taken on a few hunts before.

Though it had not really been her brother doing the hunting; he'd not been allowed to actually fire his bow.

But today that was changing.

Jewel was determined to be there for him on his special day. But it was honestly turning out far less of a chore then she had expected!

The churn of the many chewing things that lived all through the woods mingled with the scent of pained cry, panic and warning suffusing the woods and groves.

Filling her nostrils with the anguished cries of fresh spilled blood belonging to clover, beech, betula and hornbeam.

Her brother was riding Fetherfew, the calmest old mare in the family's stable that had not gone to nag, while Muriel was comfortably seated on Halberdine, one of the youngest of the stallions that her family was training as chargers. In a few years if the training went well he might very well be her brother's steed, at least according to the manuals she had read while waiting for him to catch up with his histories.

Although given his role as Father's heir they might need to acquire a place at one of the rare Gryphon hatchings so he could fulfill his duties as a Gryphon lord and obtain a steed that way.

Jewel guessed those manuals and treatises had been written for the training of children for nobility who favored grounded cavalry.

But they had agreed that it was good and proper for the male offspring of nobility to train in the acts of hunting. Those same manuals are why Jewel had spent so long trying to learn embroidery, which was by far one of the most fiddly of activities she had ever attempted.

That is until she started doing it with her hind claws while lounging on her back so she could comfortably look at what she was doing without having to stare down at her own collarbone.

The horses the footmen rode were not from the manor's stables and probably came from one of the pastures that kept a small herd for Father to select the best colts and fillies as a tithe to maintain the horsepower of the house. One of the better Stallions had even gone to the Countess for her stables as part of their Tithe.

Jewel was uncertain precisely how much of their demesne's value could be measured in horse or what the cost was.

The Accounts and Ledgers of the barony were always locked up when Jewel and Alexander were using Father's study, so she had to assume from what books on stewardship and the care of beasts and fields said that this was less expensive than paying another lord to supply their stables with adequate steed.

The sun shone warm and strong down in great streaming light through the scattered pockets of open sky and for once, the smell of impending rain was not because Jewel was overly stressed.
The intermittent golden light and silver clouds set her Wyrmfire coursing with a delighted burbling brook kind of feeling that rushed in echoes through her muscles and bones, bouncing around against her scales like rambunctious pups kept too confined for too long.

The leaves over her sang with her in sleepy wet breaths and sighs as they drunk the light as surely as she did.

It was hard not to simply rush forward and upward into open flight over the woods but it would have not been proper.

They were to go hunting and a hunt meant to ride through the woods after the signs of game.

The hunter Kraok Axeson stalled to bring his horse apace with Muriel to speak.
"The Rabbits have been bountiful this last spring, Miss Governess. Should not be a trial at all to set up a still shot for the lad, if we dismount and step lightly before the meadow. If we miss the shot a few snares will ensure we don't return empty handed regardless."

Alexander huffed and waved to the kit he was burdened with in exasperation.

"If all we're here for is rabbits why do we always bring everything else?!"

Jewel's eye following the gesture to his Short Bow (he was neither big nor strong enough for a proper ridingbow), Spear and of course a knife and a short hafted wood ax.

All of it was perhaps a bit over sized for his still growing stature. But was everything Jewel had heard you wanted on a hunt.

If you weren't a dragon.

Kraok shook his head and answered patiently.

"Only a fool only takes what he thinks he needs, young sir."
Alexander looked around with a pout.

"Well why are we hunting something so common as rabbit, Miss Muriel! Why can't we go after something proper and honorable! Like a good stag or a proper Wild Boar?!"

One of the footmen, Jewel thought maybe his name was Gimletson or something spoke with just enough jovial laughter to avoid being offensive to a lord's son.

"Oh! It's not the best season for stag, good Sir. And while we are carrying spears, that is more preparation just in case we come across any bear or perhaps something monstrous wandered far from a lair."

Muriel spoke up over the building groan from her charge.

"Young Sir."

Which quieted Alexander promptly, Jewel did not giggle at her older brother's comeuppance; such would have been improper as a dutiful and supportive sister. But one was not supposed to present so improper a mein as he had been giving on this hunt.

"It is best to listen to those more experienced, and take their consul with consideration. As Lord you will need to weigh what your subjects bring to you and come to decisions even when you yourself are not as experienced as they. When you are older you will set the quarry of the hunt. But for today leave it to those yet wiser and more learned in the way of beasts."

Mollified, Alexander nodded to the footman turned huntsman for the day and gave a still somewhat petulant tone to his 'order'.

"Rabbits it is then."

Jewel presumed they had been riding towards the aforementioned meadow and rabbits this whole time. Not even pausing for the 'discussion' and planning period.

It was quite a pleasant time all around in the woods. The horses were as quiet as can be managed, their saddles less intensive affairs than full war kit to avoid the louder tack.

Likewise was everyone armored lighter, the greater stealth appropriate for a hunt.
Muriel was armored the most in heavy studded leather over a gambeson. While Alexander and the footmen were in lighter leathers with less chance to creak when they moved. But the Governess was not kitted to partake in the hunt herself, only wearing a short sword as arms.

It required further smothering of giggles at the thought of their Governess taking down rabbits or even deer with a sword. She was pretty certain that Muriel could manage it, and even make it look skilled and graceful. But it was such a ludicrous image.

As for herself Jewel was confident in not needing to make much effort to be quiet, she left hardly a trace and her body barely disturbed the air or underbrush with its languid bobbing in smooth undulations. For fun, she made a game of only pressing off against the occasional moss covered stone or root so that not even the slightest tap of her claws would be heard.

All of it fairly superfluous given how such light a noise was drowned out by all the little creaks and squeaks which even the softest leather suitable for armor and riding gear produced.

Nothing egregious enough to disturb the birds in the branches amidst the trees that just barely failed to reach over their trail but still a disturbance other game were acting on.

Jewel could scent that hardly any beast which might possibly be the target of a hunt was coming within range of her nose, unless it was cowering in the muffling dirt of an earth dug burrow or the focused quality that came from a tree hollow.

She neither heard nor smelt recent deer save for spoor left good hours before their arrival.

But even if their quarry was simply rabbits it was all around quite a pleasant diversion.

This was shaping up to be a wonderful cool summer day.

Perhaps there would be a bit of rain later in the evening, but if everything was finished by noon they could be home well before then.

And what's more, for all the lackluster and ad hoc nature of the feast set for the Wizard's arrival three days ago, today's homecoming was planned well in advance to have some pageantry to celebrate the success of the Lord's heir on his first personal hunt.

Not as much as when they would join with a few neighbors for a grand hunt alongside Father come mid summer.

But a local affair for the family and subjects all the same.

Jewel looked forward to seeing her brother triumph and the party afterwards to commemorate Alexander's first hunt where he was expected to actually contribute something to the effort.
He was quite good with that bow so mere rabbits should serve no trouble for him.

Spoiler: Author's Notes

So I wanted to get the first complete 'episode' of Shining Wyrm out and complete fast so everyone can get a solid feel of what to expect.
Chapters 1.1 - 1.ii are essentially that. A taste and preview of what is to come and what I'm interested in.
If you for some reason read until this point and hated it this is the time to bail, it's not gonna stop that is the tone and breadth you should expect the majority of this story to be.
Go on, you have whatever weird arbitrary permission you seem to require from me to go read something else you enjoy more.
Now onto why I added this Author's note:
We are now gonna slow down a bit to a pace of about 1 chapter posted every other day and based on some experience I've had in the past I'm planning to be a bit more social in the thread. These forum posts are the opportunity for people to bring up thoughts, catch typos or just ask questions and either get cryptic allusions to spoilers or flat out answers.
I'm planning too as soon as we get too 10.9 to do a daily posting blitz to royal road after I use whatever I hear in these forum posts to do a polish pass.
Also planning a FEW illustrations (probably no more then one or two per 'episode' if I'm being honest.) And I'm willing to take some suggestions on what scene you think is most deserving of getting illustrated.
Cheers and Welcome to the ride everyone.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.2

When they were drawing close to the border of the forest and the meadow, the riders dismounted and set their horses to loose ties on branches near the trail. Alexander stretched and did a few squats to work the ache out of his thighs.

The saddle was not as well proportioned for her brother, since he would eventually grow into it. He had to sit with a wider splay to his legs than Muriel or any of the hunters did on their own horse.

After that the hunting party moved softly on foot. Jewel settled on far less exuberant strides, keeping herself practically belly crawling, bunching herself with twists from side to side instead of arcing her spine in humps.

It was harder to remain quiet like this. Her tail took extra concentration to avoid lashing at the brush and shrubs.

Her wings were especially awkward impediments and limited the routes she could take, while Alexander and the four hunters could take narrow passes between brambles and underbrush.

The soft leather of their hunting shoes and even steps barely disturbed the grass and hardly made a sound at all.

They had circled around the side of the meadow to stay downwind, and Jewel could smell the warren even before they saw it.

She could smell the beasts gnashing at the freshly sprout soft leaves of clover and meadow grass. The pleas and dire warnings tingling in her nose to try and muster for those around they needed to grow more bitter against the endless devouring.

The smell of the rabbit's prey dieing was almost stronger than their own scents.

A glance to Muriel for permission was rebuked with a gentle shake of the head.

Jewel's pleading eyes got an eyeroll from the governess as she slowed her approach to stalk beside Jewel and whisper softly.

"I know you can smell them, young lady, but let your brother win by his own merit, not yours. It's his hunt and his glory this day. We are here for his honor, to be there for his triumphs."

Jewel could hear the unsaid but still present message in her tone that they would also be there to commiserate with Alexander for his failures too on this hunt. Should he not be able to make any of his marks himself.

So she held her tongue despite the growing scent of rabbits eating. Mingling and interlaced with the scent were the other beasts walking through the meadow and the vegetation there.

There was a great many Quail foraging amidst the taller grass just over a rise away from where the four hunters and Alex were stalking forward. They were careful to avoid disturbing by noise, scent or sight as they entered the sun-dappled clearing of the meadow.

The other animals added their scent as Jewel paused at the edge of the clearing. The grass would perhaps conceal her, but it was too rich a green to fully hide the shine of her scales. If it was third summer or early autumn the grass would blend well and obscure her.

But the shoots of all the plants were still young and fresh despite the carnage chewing and biting through them everywhere.

Muriel nodded at her restraint and then strode hunched and hidden into the tall grass, trailing her brother, leaving her to watch the meadow and drink in the rivers of scent that carried on the wind.

Burrowing beasts she had never seen before announced their presence from the earth. Small field mice practically chirped their presence among the taller stalks.

Even the faint sweet scent of bees and others of the world's smallest of birds settled into her nose as they flitted upon the summer blooms before ascending above the tall grasses and entering Jewel's view.

Standing this close to the quarry, their ears alert, and trying to line up a good shot on the warren and its rabbits, the party no longer spoke. She could not spot them through the drifting grass and had to guess that they were catching one another's eyes and gesturing circumspectly to guide and consider the situation before them.

Her nose tickled with Alexander's sweat, the four hunters and Muriel's own musk. So much like their horses and yet distinctly unique to any other beast Jewel knew.

Their leathers added a unique fragrance that took a forefront with no other senses to distract.

Jewel imagined they must have found a vantage to line up a shot since their smell was no longer moving further into the field.

And it was not very far from the diffuse presence of the rabbits and the midmorning meal she had already caught.

A quick glance to make sure no one was looking and Jewel slid her tongue loose into the air to taste, letting the fuzzy sense of presence sharpen to clear rivulets of scent dancing in the wind, arcing over and through each other like a tapestry's weave.

Making sharp and clear all the presences of plant and beast all through the meadow. Practically rendering the obscurement to sight an afterthought.

Yes, that was her brother down low enough for a crouch, but the distinct shift suggested where his arms were poised, exposing his pits more as he pulled back on the bow string. She could not hear the strain of the string over the sound of the many beasts in the field.

The wind told the story, a spike of tension rising, he was breathing harder. Jewel could taste it on the wind, lapping the details out of the air and then the twang of a bowstring released and the muffled skid and clatter of an arrow that missed flesh and instead drug a furrow in the dirt.

The short plants cut by the arrow's passing screamed their blood voices into the perfume of the meadow. Sharp and sudden and unlike any nibble or browsing. Shocking all that grew with their suddenness.

The rabbit's scents spiked in terror and Jewel found herself little concerned that she could disturb the quarry more than the scattering rabbit already had been.

She strode still quietly but quite openly, not close enough to spook the quail from their huddling in the tall grass. It would be rude in case maybe the hunters might want to have her brother try for a shot at them.

She arrived at the clearing, with not a single rabbit visible but plenty hiding out of sight by their smell, her brother stomping over to inspect his arrow and the four other hunters already unspooling twine rope and their knives to fashion some snares to leave near the burrows.

"Well sour luck that, we will try again at the next clearing, young Sir, and circle back through here to check the snares. On our return though. No worries, plenty of daylight left."

Jewel caught Muriel's attention then turned her gaze up to the clouds, which while still scattered and fluffy were starting to smell with a ponderance of the rains to come.

She could feel the lightning in waiting, gently tugging upon her own flame.

Her Governess considered the sky but offered a slightly raised brow.

Jewel glared briefly, then turned to look at poor Alexander going after his arrow off into the woods.

Her brother was shortly huffing back into the clearing, already inspecting his arrow like it had personally betrayed him. But far as Jewel could see the fletching hadn't even been mussed from its short trip into the loam and shrubbery.

Given the opportunity she sidled up to the group she shot Muriel a defiant look and then spoke softly to avoid spooking the quarry she was about to share.

"There is a flock of quail huddled in the brush over there, just shy of fifty paces."

Which got a brief look from Muriel, but it's not like any of them were likely to have noticed the fowl without her.

Also as the hunters and her brother were distracted she caught the Governess' eye and pointed even more obviously with her eyes up at the slowly building mood of rain above. It was so obvious but Jewel found some times she needed to exaggerate.

Muriel looked again and then seemed to finally have a realization and with a silent sigh and a subtle nod acquiesced. It was best to not have the day be a total waste from weather, and the more attempts her brother got the less the sting of not hitting anything might be.

Tenacity had an honor all its own, after all.

Alexander was looking hopefully up at the elder of the Hunters. Kraok was rubbing his beard and considering Alexander, bow in one hand and a still unbroken or bloodied arrow in the other. A short look to their Governess responded with an ascending nod.

"Alright, worth the shot if we can get in position, Quail are very alert and easily spooked, so we best settle in and try for a hide to see if we can get a clear shot rather than trying to creep up to them. Worst case, you get in position and we drive them to the sky for you sir. You spotted them where, Lady Jewel?"

She did not correct him that she had yet to properly see them at all but pointed where the birds were still huddling close to the ground beneath the field grass swaying in the wind. Just across the meadow.

"Mmm, we will want to take an ambush this way, then. Gimletson, you finish up the snares, you two take up a position on the other side just in case. This way, young Sir."

With that the hunters split up, one staying there by the mostly (there were pups down below, huddled away for safety, but that was not the hunt today) abandoned warren with Jewel and Muriel, and two circling around silently into the meadow to one side while Alexander and Kraok disappeared from sight to the other.

Muriel watched Jewel with a look that was rather familiar. It was the one she got whenever Jewel was signaling to Alexander how to spell a word that gave him trouble or hinted the answer to a pointed question.

Jewel knew Muriel wanted to give her another lecture over cheating the spirit of an activity.

But given they were still on the hunt she held her admonishments to just a glare.

Jewel had brought up to Mother and Father only once how she thought their Governess hated poor Alexander. But when she explained her suspicions and why Mother and Father had both laughed and then gently told her that she needed to not coddle her brother so much.

Worse, they had started gently forbidding her from helping her brother as much from then on.

Jewel settled down into a lazy coiling loop in the meadow. Flattening down the grass in a pleasing spiral of stalks, she waited for the sound of Alexander's bow.

This hunt was Important to Alexander. And it was her duty as his sister to help him find his honor out here.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.3

Jewel did not sigh or otherwise show any of her disappointment, as that would be very rude to her poor brother. But inside, she really wanted to.

So far, Alexander had not managed to hit a quail from the flock Jewel had found. He had missed three more rabbits after the footmen had carefully gotten them into position for another shot, and his aim was honestly only getting worse as the hunt continued.

The weather had also continued to worsen as they moved their way from meadow to meadow in the hunting woods. What had started with scattered breaks in the cloud cover was turning into an all-encompassing gray above them, with roils that called to Jewel with their promise of lightning and the churning rain waiting to break free all over them.

The mood was also souring around her brother's growing frustration, and any calls to try and calm him so that he could perhaps make a shot clearheaded fell upon deaf ears.
Most recently, his latest attempt had spooked the game before even letting loose an arrow.

It was looking like whatever they caught in their snares was going to have to be the prize of the hunt. Which was turning her brother's disposition to an even darker gloom as Muriel's glances at the sky and a few pointed looks at Jewel who very staunchly refused to nod or acknowledge them.

Which she thought said plenty on the matter: yes, they would indeed need to head back if they did not want to be caught in a summer downpour, Muriel.

As if this silent confirmation was the final straw, the noble children's Governess finally spoke up before Alexander could badger the poor footmen into another fruitless scrounging for a prey.
"Young Sir, we are going to be caught in a storm if we do not turn back now. Best to head along our old trail and retrieve the snares and what catches they have for us to conclude the hunt."

Which started a tear filled complaint.

"But I haven't stuck ANYTHING! Not even a stupid rabbit!"

But he did at least turn with them back to the horse who had been having a far more pleasant time of it, having plenty of success getting fat on their devastation and ruin brought to the clovers of the wood, their lips wet with the lamentations of their victims.

Kraok offered another fruitless word of encouragement.

"It's nothing to be worried about, young sir, we set the traps just in case. When I first went hunting as a boy I had to spend a night hungry because I barely even caught sight of anything, let alone hit them with an arrow."

Which honestly just seemed to upset Alexander more.

"It's the stupid rabbits, and birds and all. They're all too small, I can hit the targets in the courtyard from twice this distance!"

And more did he complain.

But as they made their way through the woods and back to the meadows that started the hunt, Jewel started to hear the most distressing sound she had ever experienced.

It was shrill and terrified and full of pain.

Before that day If there could be said to be a sound of panic and horror Jewel would have imagined something far less terrible than that sound.

It rose in shrieking breathy wails, almost whistling out and it put her ill at ease.

Was some kind of monster tormenting some animal?

Not simply killing but torturing with a cruelty that was unmatched.

Muriel pulled her horse over from the fuming whining of her Brother to get close enough to whisper to Jewel.

"Is there a problem, Lady Jewel? You seem ill at ease."

Jewel gave a heavy shudder that passed from the back of her skull to the tip of her tail then reflected back up her haunches. She whispered softly to Muriel.

"Something ahead of us is screaming. I've never heard a sound like it. No bird nor beast I've ever heard sounds like that."

Which brought a look of concern to the Governess and she pulled back to consult with Kraok and Gimletson while the other hunters moved ahead of them, eyes alert.

The whispered conversation abruptly broke with Gimletson's laughter.

"Oh that's nothing to worry about, rabbits in snares sometimes give a blood chilling scream when they get caught. Is the damnedest sound but nothing to worry about. Although it might draw in a fox or wolf if we're not fast. Best pick up the pace!"

Which prompted the riders to bring their clover-stuffed horse to a disgruntled trot along the worn deer path. Soon they needed to go single file for the sake of not injuring the horse on uneven ground. Jewel instead just continued her soft skipping off of trees and moss adjacent to the trail but a bit above the tangled shrubbery of the underbrush rather than doing so along the once thicker trail.

Her brother and Muriel stiffened and looked around, which told Jewel when they could hear the awful rabbit shriek for themselves. And, spurred on by the sound and the hunters, they soon broke into the meadow again, empty now of any and everything which lived above ground. Not even the bees and other smallest birds were to be found or heard.

Although with a glance to the sky, Jewel suspected that was more because of the threat of rain the clouds were starting to bulge and tumble with.

The rabbit was caught with its leg in a snare, but it was stiff on its side, as if somehow frozen by more than the ugly loop of twine and terrible twisting to its leg.

Did the footmen know some sort of magic to weave into their snares?

The small beast's screaming was terrible, the mouth gaping wide on its inhale and the eyes staring in all directions.

It was disquieting, the rabbit unmoving but for trembling shakes and eyes darting, yet screaming all the same until with great mercy, Kraok silenced it with a short stab of a knife through its neck.

Then in blessed silence, casual as any of the kitchen staff, he undid the knot of the twine, rolled it back up and then gutted the carcass down the middle with a swift tug and a practiced hand pulling the innards free with a sudden blooming smell of offal.

Alexander flinched back a bit but Muriel and the other footmen were inured. Simply going to check the other snares. Where apparently the rabbits had managed to die from panicked seizing snapping their spines or simply because their necks had been caught in the snare and they had been strangled.

Those corpses were likewise gutted, the blood drained mostly before they were tied to the horse, but left dangling to finish letting out the last drabs while they rode and then everyone was back in saddle (besides Jewel) and they were moving onto the next meadow.

And the next.

Jewel only heard the terrible screaming panic of the rabbits one more time, but she almost wondered if that was better than the ones they came across that were obviously alive but simply frozen in terror too afraid to even manage the death scream.

It was so different from how plants screamed. More than just how it was sound instead of the distressed aroma.

But when a blade of grass or a clover was torn into and it bled its cries to the air there was a sense of determination and obligation.

Something like what the books said about honor, Jewel thought.

It did not smell like panic. There was none of the despair. Even when it was a mortal wound upon the stem.

But Rabbits.

They feared and screamed in terror more blind and horrible than the literally blind foliage they fed upon.

Jewel considered in silence the difference.

With the gutting and cleaning finished on the last of the rabbits they were in the very first meadow they had come to.

The saddles were loaded with a dozen open carcasses. Three to a side tied to two of the horses.
Alexander had gotten off his horse to stretch his legs and have a look around, he had settled somewhat from half-shed tears of frustration and pleading, turned to obstinate silence.

Apparently screaming rabbits had not bothered him since he had attended other hunts. Jewel was not so sure if she would ever be so accustomed to that sound, but maybe she heard it differently then they did.

She was scenting the air as they she had before, the pregnant tumultuous imminence of rain and thunder was growing so thick it almost smothered out the sparse animal trail still in the meadow.

Thanks to the shrieking no other game was present. Not even the wolves or fox that had been warned of.

Alexander's scent went off downwind of them. He was being very quiet.

Jewel was a good sister and given she could not smell the sharp pin in the nose of piss (that was a mistake she would only ever make once) she confidently skipped through the meadow in great undulating swells, peeking up over the field grass as she went like it was a green pond.

Even as such she could not spot her brother — he was taking the time to practice his hunter's stride!

That must mean he was feeling better after all!

She used her nose to find the spoor from his sweat in the grass, winding sinuously and as stealthy as she could now to play the game with him as well.

Her greeting however froze on her lip when she reached him.

Crouched in his hunter's stance, bow drawn, and eyes clear and angry as he lined up a shot.

But it was not upon another rabbit, or even a deer.

No, instead there in line with her brother's arrow and square in his gaze was the snuffling flanks of the largest boar she had ever seen.

No, the largest boar she had ever even heard legends of!

If this was not some monster wandered free of a lair she would drink lye!

Its hair was bristly and brown, and the thing's shoulders were rippling with muscle and a thick near pitch skin. It was rooting at the earth quietly.

A few hundred paces away, just barely visible in the underbrush for how it disturbed it.

But even so it was obviously incredibly large.

It was taller than any of their horses at the shoulder. It had four tusks that shined near white, flashing through the gaps in the leaves and foliage.

It looked like it might even be heavier than Jewel herself!

Her spine trembled in concern.

She drew up next to her brother and hissed as quietly as she could.

"Alexander, No, That's a Boar."

He had to just not have realized how big it was at this distance and mistook it for a deer between all the leaves and other sundry.

Surely?

But despite all her care to warn him of his mistake, apparently that was a bit too much, as her brother let fly. The arrow sailed truer than any had all day.

And stuck solidly halfway down the bladed head in the boar's rump.

Which in spite of the arrow sticking out of its hide welling with a bit of blood grunted with barely a hint of discomfort and spent what felt like a good while simply finishing snuffling and munching on whatever it was eating behind the bushes.

Jewel gave herself a moment to hope that maybe it would not be enough to provoke the animal. Boar gave even Father concern and the hunts for them were always a much larger and better armored party then this.

And those were much smaller beasts then this Behemoth.

Finally and with a complete lack of fear the thing turned about in its bushes to glare at the Wyrmling and then after evaluating her as not being the source of the offending arrow, turning to her brother and fixing him across the yawning distance with a dismissive snort.

Jewel could just barely find it in herself to repeat what she had said but more accusingly.

"Alexander! That. Is. A. Boar!"

The beast — whose ridged back stood high enough it would just be in petting range for Alexander astride Fetherfew — slowly, laboriously turned around fully and shook all down its back, the Arrow coming loose with barely any resistance against the violent shake.

Her brother seemed frozen in the dawning realization of what he had just done.

But instead of doing something sensible, as Jewel turned and joined the boar in staring, he strung another arrow and lined it up on the boar's head.

Who watched him do it with complete calm, not a shred of fear.

"Alexander!?"

Her voice was rising in panic as she flicked her eyes from watching her brother's grip tightened and the animal he'd already only slightly injured squared up with him.

"That's!"

He let loose the arrow. It hit squarely in the middle of the thing's head and simply skimmed up its brow and sailed off into the woods, leaving an angry welling line of shallow blood with hints of bone just visible beneath.

"A!"

Jewel took in a great heaving lung full of air and let out a shout so loud that all the forest might have heard it, but more importantly it definitely was going to reach their guardians further back in the meadow.

"BOAR!"

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.4

The boar snorted at Jewel's outburst before fixing her brother with those beady eyes.
It was still for a moment longer, Jewel began pulling on her Wyrmflame, trying to drag the annihilating power into alignment in her neck.

But was it even going to be enough time?

There was a solid two hundred paces between the beast and them.

That should be enough space right?

Just in case, she took a step forward to begin interposing herself between the Boar and Alexander, but the monstrously huge beast burst into action as soon as she even shifted!

As if launched from its own bow, one moment it was still quite a ways into the brush of the wood. The next it was already most of the way out!

Jewel's throat clenched and her grasp of the Wyrmfire sputtered and scattered, failing to hold the proper shape to do more than maybe blind it?

She wasn't in position to protect her brother OR unleash her flame!

Alexander's face had only just started to show something other than blockheaded determination.

In the time it took him to finish registering what a monumental mistake he had made the boar was already crossing the border of the meadow. Half her assumed safety buffer was gone in an instant!

Jewel could hear the rest of their party rushing through the meadow.

But they were even farther away than the Boar had been!

And Alexander, had only barely realized how dangerous and foolish this was and turned to run, dropping his bow as he did.

Of course, NOW her brother started trying to flee. After he had spoiled any chance that the animal might actually let them be!

Jewel was not in position, her Wyrmfire was just barely being pulled back together after the shock of the thing's speed had scattered it through her scales.

Her brother was definitely not going to be anywhere near fast enough. For how utterly absurdly massive the boar was its speed was the most terrifying thing Jewel had ever seen.

She could imagine it playing out, her brother would be gored in the back, possibly even the side while he tried to turn. Shattered and skewered by those tusks, trampled by those cloven hooves and probably stamped into a pulp for his foolishness.

He might scream as the rabbits had, He might go still in terror and pain.

She could feel the flames building in her throat, but not enough! her wings started to flare in panic.

Her lips pulled back to reveal teeth.

There was no time!

She let loose with the malformed and ineffective flame, the Wyrmflame bursting incoherently just in front of her snout to flash the air blinding white.

Hoping to at least STUN the behemoth long enough she could get in position to cover her brother.

The boar stumbled hard but not enough to avoid the inevitability of crushing Alexander. Jewel was out of options! She did the only thing she could and lunged hard into the beast with everything she could muster. Leaping the intervening distance between them in a single bound.

She felt herself slammed by a skull like stone, blood hot and slick from the arrow graze, she was hurled up and over before she could do anything else, her wing was caught and pinched sharp, soft soil suddenly pushing into her face, Jagged line of pressure, catching in the join of wing fingers, pain.

PAIN.

Dizzy, she was looking at a tree trunk.

Things were happening all over her.

Gasping breathless wheezing, Bones feeling bruised, something wet in her mouth.

What?

What happened?

Trampling hooves seemingly everywhere on her sides and neck.

Terrible bellowing shrieking roars of anger from where she was feeling the most battered and trampled.

Sharp lancing gouges, her chest, her throat, something wrenched very wrongly in her fore left shoulder and then choking, can't breath, teeth strong, bones grinding together, scales flexing hard, can't breath, can't swallow, Where? What?!

And then shaking, tugging on both her torso and her head like she was a loose rag.

Everything a whirl of senses, sight never holding still as she tried and failed to keep her eyes stable.

Then by happenstance, the shaking tossed her about enough to give some slack on either side of the pained crushing on her throat.

It was violently worrying at her mid throat and putting the greatest effort to crush the life out of her neck.

For a moment with the extra slack Jewel could start to try and figure out what in all the damnations had just happened?!

She was bruising all over, both her wings were agonies that felt like something wrong and would not bend right.

Nothing had broken her scales though, she did not think any of her spine was hurt and besides not being able to breath Jewel was mostly just disoriented.

Jewel tried to get a census of the parts of her not being tossed about by the raging boar. She was all together too long to be lifted entirely by that first blow. But the front half of her was thrown clear into the air before she even had the chance to react.

And then as if by military drill the boar had caught one of her flailing wings with a tusk sliding up the membrane, wrenched it between the fingers and then spun itself around to... body slam her down maybe?

That had pulled wing joints out of the socket, and the shoulder and elbow too maybe. Nothing wanted to move there.

Then was the trampling, Jewel was unclear exactly how or where but hoof prints and concerning dents littered everything from her ribcage forward.

Her right foreleg was a mess, crumpled and wrenched apart at her wrist and shoulder. Flopping about painfully as the boar continued trying to work her neck deeper into its jaws where the grinding teeth were.

But it seemed to be noticing the futility there and-

Uh Oh.

Jewel met eyes with the boar and the beady glare rolled before it spun its entire body around to square with her head, already digging and kicking up dirt as it scrabbled for traction to hurl itself at her face. The mouth wide and tusks already angling to try and gore her through something softer than it had found so far. One point seeming disconcertingly aimed right at her eye!

Naturally, she yanked her face back and whipped it around and away. Not with any grace but in sheer blind panic. Hurling her head more like the tip of a whip then anything particularly natural or with any intent.

The joints of her neck popping up and down as she smacks her own head into the dirt of the meadow, blinded by the plume of dirt.

Shake the dirt off, don't lose track of the maelstrom of angry boar that moved like a lightning strike.

There was the noise and scent of Alexander, Muriel, the four hunters, screams and yells.

But Jewel's eyes were on only one thing. Making sure she did not lose track of the ferocity that was still barreling down on her.

The Boar's own momentum gave her barely the time to actually move backwards.

Barely able to rear back in a pathetic heap. Only three workable legs. One wing.

Her Wyrmfire all scrambled and roiled without intent or focus, like a disturbed coop of chickens panicked and running through Jewel's flesh with no coordination.

The thing was upon Jewel before she could even begin to try and clear her crushed throat enough to unleash the chaotic sputter of Wyrmfire she could drive in even a semblance of a guide.

Slammed under her screaming, again flipping her over in a spine-twisting joust, dragging tusks with an almost musical buzz as it tried to scour the flesh from her ribs. Down her chest and then to the marginally softer flesh of her belly. Scales being dragged painfully, but still not breaking.

Her still-collapsed lungs flinched and flopped uselessly around in her chest, her throat whistling sharply as it barely was able to pull any air through her crushed windpipe.

And then even that minute air was shocked loose and her chest failed to even flex enough to manage that feeble whistling gasp.

Her Wyrmfire was like embers tossed loose of a shattered hearth fire.

Her tail snapped about and her hind legs pedaled in the air before the wet touch of a mouth closed down hard on her right thigh and then wrenched hard. Tossing her lower half over the boar's shoulder, slamming her in the face with her own hips!

Jewel tried to clear her throat and get the rhythm of her lungs back in order.

She could feel the Wyrmfire in disarray, sputtering in shock and unable to find anything to catch on and burn.

Jewel thought she heard noises but they were muffling under the roaring, stuffy silence rushing like rivers through her head. Blood empty and starved galloped in her ears. Heart pounding like a drum announcing a parade of guests.

She reflexively tried to lift herself up, but a great weight dropped on her like a fallen tree. Like her crashes when first learning to fly. Like the time she had knocked the leg out from under one of the feast tables and the whole thing had tilted and fell on her.

Her ribs caved in their joints to her spine and sternum, soft spongy cracks echoing with the blows of cloven hooves.

She did not break - her ribs remained solidly whole - but they were not even, they had been pummeled out of alignment, pressing uncomfortably on her lungs, splaying a few of them loose from her sternum.

It hurt.

It hurt more than anything ever had but Jewel could barely even pay attention to the pain so awash in the sea of it.

A twitch from one of her legs was attacked with sudden furious tugs and bites, shaking its head in a frenzy, slamming her hips and lower section into the ground until a wet snap announced that her last functional limb popped from its socket.

There were voices, there were people over there but Jewel could barely even get her eyes to focus against the waves of pain and her nearly guttered flame.

The boar snorted with satisfaction and shook its hide free of the strange sticks of wood that had embedded themselves in its back.

A tusk gored at her neck and flipped her limp body over.

Jewel did not move.

And only then with her limp and trembling, struggling to even breath, feeling her heart start to stutter did the Boar turn from the Wyrmling.

Towards the vague shapes that had drawn its ire.

Jewel could barely focus but.

There was something important.

She pulled on her barely burning sparks and embers, pulling them to the one eye.

Bringing the burning Wyrmfire to the lens and little flexures inside, pulling her eye this way and that, opening and closing and straining.

Finding the image coming clearer.

They were brandishing spears.

The sticks shaken loose had been arrows.

The boar was undeterred.

It bled but rallied on the six figures ahead of itself anyway.

Jewel could not focus on all their faces, her lack of breath stalled her nose.

But she pulled her one clear eye to focus.

One of the shortest of the six figures was being held back by the rest. But yet it struggled to pull away, a long spear gripped in its hands, screaming words Jewel could no longer hear against the raging silence in her head.

Alexander.

It was still after Alexander.

Jewel felt her Wyrmflame all but guttered out at the thought.

No!

Spoiler: Author's Note

I COULD leave this as a cliffhanger, but I'm not going too, update coming this evening so no one has to spend longer then a few hours in suspense.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.5

Jewel's muscles did not want to move. Her blood felt heavy and sluggish and empty of life.

Her bones were tired and in disarray and her heart was thumping ever harder and faster the longer it failed to accomplish anything.

Everything hurt.

She had barely a single arm that was not crumpled and twisted out of place.

But Alexander was there, barely holding himself back, lips flapping on at the footmen as they braced in a line in front of the boar.

Muriel had drawn her sword and was standing just to the side of Alexander. One hand on the pommel while the other held it out and to the side in a ready stance she had seen so many times before as their Governess trained Alexander in the sword.

Jewel's eye did not want to blink.

It barely would let her see.

Jewel felt barely more animated than the trees around her and the torn up loam of the meadow where the Boar had so casually brutalized her.

What kind of great and powerful Wyrm was Jewel?

That a swine barely heavier than she was could best her so easily?
She was hardly more than the dirt she lay in.

Yet there was life to that torn up dirt. A flickering warmth and glow of Wyrmfire in spite of how it had been tossed and spread about in a heap.

Just as alive as when it was all together in its proper place.

Friendly and eager to share with her of all the things which had grown within it and trod upon it.

Not any more bothered by the turbulent brawl then it had been by the gentle steps of deer the day before.

Or the grass roots all through spring.

That was nice. Maybe being dirt would not be so bad.

The boar was charging.

One of the hunters braced and waited, then jumped to drive his spear into its neck.

Jewel saw with her blank, barely focused eye the way the metal head caught in its thick flesh. The burst of blood around it and the deep bend in the wooden shaft as the weight of the beast and hunter met in its fibers.

But the boar was not stopped, even with the spear finally breaking past its thick hide and plunging the metal head entirely into the shoulder haunch.

Everything felt so slow, Muriel's face seemed wrong, all twisted and mouth wide, eyes blazing. A sword skittering across the shoulder and brow of the beast. Clipping an ear.

There was blood but it did not turn towards her. Instead leaping forward.

The second of the hunters was not as lucky as the first.
Jewel could not place his face in the rush despite how everything oozed along like mud.

The boar caught his spear with its jaws. Pulled it out of his hands with a twist of its head, then continued in a follow-through to a lunging slash back the way it had come.

The tusk caught in the man's thigh, below where his gambeson and the leather might have protected him.

Then the tusk carved up.

Jewel could not hear anything over the rushing pound of her deadened blood in her head.

But she almost felt the way his hip cracked apart in the path of that tusk.

The blood pooling out from the torn-open flesh in arterial splashes and spurts and the armor lifted from beneath by the point of the tusk as the beast's head swung and its own charging pace drove it up and through the poor man's torso.

Ribs cracked apart and his guts spilled over the animal's snout just as the intestines and other offal had spilled from the rabbits they snared.

Jewel tried to laugh but nothing about her throat or lungs would let her.

Her blood pounded so thick and loud she kind of wished it would stop. That her heart would quit trying to beat so hard and let her be quiet and still, like the dirt of the meadow.

Just so she could hear what was going on, you see.

Maybe it would hurt a bit less too?

The beast tossed the man. He was certainly dead even if his flailing limbs and panicked eyes had not yet caught up to it. Turning on the last two footmen and dipping its head down. Digging in its hooves to arrest the charge.

Tearing up more meadow which was just as pleased as it would be for the coming summer showers.

The two footmen failed to manage much, yet again.

One spear tip fell short of even touching its blood-drenched flanks. The other caught the thing in its skull and nearly skittered out of the man's grip as it bent and skipped without finding purchase.

Scratching more angry red lines over the pig's brow.

Jewel flexed her Wyrmflame, dragging her eye to follow the action, to help her blink where the exhausted and aching muscles in her face could not manage.

Pulling things into a wobbling blurr before scraping focus back into place from indistinctness.

Muriel had tried to strike again, with a full bodied stab this time, driving forward with both hands, one gripping tight around the hilt, the other's palm at the pommel. Everything committed to the lunge.

But Jewel regained clarity in time to see that she had landed the hit wrong and there was a slight flex to the sword as it caught in the thing's shoulder blade.

A shifting of trotters spun the beast about face in the grass and a shove into the blow from the boar pushed the sword back into muriel and nearly disarmed her, forcing the Governess into five steps of retreat before she regained her balance.

The three surviving footmen were scattered and off balance from the last charge.

Muriel was out of position by the deflection.

The hateful eyes of the beast settled on Alexander.

He had to run!

Her brother was trembling, throwing glances all over, hands holding far too tightly to his spear.

She wanted to admonish him for it, they had practiced better than that.

You need a firm but still loose grip on a spear or the shock of a hit would travel all the way up your arms!

Alexander met Jewel's gaze with his own.

Oh no.

Her stupid, stupid brother.

Jewel felt her panicked beating heart clench so hard she swore it must have burst something somewhere in her battered body.

She knew that look.

And putting her fears to truth he braced up, loosened his grip and lowered his hips and set the spear in position.
Facing up against the boar, his lips moving to words she could not hear and with that stupidly stupid determined look he sometimes got.

Tears were in his eyes but his brow was fixed and wrinkled in anger, every muscle in his jaw taught.

She thought he must be screaming.

He was going to die.

The Boar took a moment to shake itself off, splaying blood both its own and human, then breathed so hard Jewel could see the steam.

Her brother was going to die.

Jewel pulled on her Wyrmflame like she never had before.

So what if her throat was crushed closed.

So what if her blood was stagnant and starved for breath.

So What?!

Alexander was being a total idiot of a fool and standing up to a boar that had laid low a Wyrm a dozen times his weight in stone over.

And the horribly idiotic fool was squaring up because he was upset it hurt her?!

The total Imbecile!

The utter Knave!

The HEROIC IDIOT!

Jewel threw herself from the ground at the Boar as hard as she could.

Not with muscles which could find no proper purchase or leverage but the raw Wyrmflame.

Her jaws flung open like a badly coordinated puppet, she felt meat tearing at the joint.

She barely registered that she was not the only one moving.

Muriel was running as hard as she could to push Alexander out of the way in favor of getting herself trampled.

One of the surviving Footmen was also charging with her. Spear in both hands, running right at the beast.

Jewel collided first. She grabbed her own body like a rope that had incredibly offended her, and wrapped it around the beast to try and pull it off course from her brother (or Muriel, but mostly her brother).

The rough treatment was not gentle on her injuries, her spine creaked and her muscles strained in protest. Her own innards did not take kindly to it either but Jewel pulled herself taut by Wyrmfire and Will alone around the boar's neck and then slammed her jaw so hard down on its stupid impervious face she felt a tooth flex hard in its root.

Her desperate heart was still pounding, shoveling empty, worthless blood through her head and neck and other sundry.
But she was not moved by the strength of her blood.

The one Footman brave (or stupid) enough to join her attack had thrown himself under the beast and was nimbly rolling under the suddenly panicked stamping and flailing boar. Half blinded by her upper jaw pressed hard into its face.

Jewel realized her mistake and pulled her mouth to try and close it over the boar's skull entirely...

But the thing's head was far too wide for her to manage!

So she just pushed hard on her chin until she felt the snap of her jaw pulling loose and tendons screaming til she could hold her head in an improvised blindfold/vice.

Wyrmfire hissing and sizzling from her scales stung and blackened the stupid pig's bristly hairs. But nothing like it would have been had Jewel been able to clear her throat.

How the wyrm wished that she could burn the thing to ash though. Leave it in cinders and dust scorched clean by her hate.

Alas she just could not manage the focus for that, only the spiteful purity of simply stopping the monster from hurting her brother!

Finally the Footman under it found a proper spot (he was still alive?!) and there was a thunderous squeal of pain.

Jewel could feel the blood in the body pressed against her own scales.

Thundering in panic and the heat of battle, just like her own stale blood was.

And then guttering to a stop.

Finding a silence that Jewel's own heart refused to mirror.

Next the legs began to buckle.

Jewel nearly didn't pull the thing over, but then it would have collapsed on and certainly crushed her ally.

And he had killed the stupid pig!

It was dead.

Alexander safe?

She let go of her body with her Wyrmfire.

Without the force holding it tight she collapses like soggy grass.

Her eyes abandoned by the flame staring blankly and out of focus at the sky.

The rain was just about to break.

Jewel was glad.

At least she would be clean.

The dirt was happy too.

Spoiler: Author's Note

Told ya that I woulden't leave you in a lurch on THAT cliff hanger.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.6

Alexander rode as hard as Fetherfew would gallop in the rain and the mud that the breaking storm had made of the road.

Muriel had stayed behind to guard Jewel.

To help keep his sister safe.

Safe, so he could bring help!

His sister that might-

His sister was hurt because of him!

The three surviving hunters were riding with him. Poor Gimletson. That was also his fault, he hadn't listened to them.

Muriel had told him he was supposed to listen.

It was his hunt, but they knew better.

And now Jewel-

Jewel would be fine, he would bring help. There were three Wizards and Father!

They would fix everything!

If Alexander just could bring news fast enough.

Fetherfew's breath was a frothy bellows filling her barrel beneath his legs.

His thighs burned terribly.

He was going to be bruised with how hard he was riding.

The pounding of the mud was splattering his legs and face at the pace they were making.

Dark mud washed away in the downpour even under the heavy cover of the forest.

"Young Sir! We have to slow down!"

Kraok yelled over the storm. But Alexander could not bear the thought.

"Jewel's my SISTER!"

The hunter that had finally felled the horrible boar by sliding under the damned monster to stab it through the chest simply bellowed back.

"If the horses break their legs or you're thrown into a rock in this mess none of us will reach help in time! We have to slow down Lord, to a canter at most!"
He wanted to scream!

Alexander wanted to strike down the man with the spear that failed to even pull a drop of blood from the monster that had brutalized his sister.

But...

That had been exactly how he got his poor sister hurt and Gimletson dead.

He pulled back on the gasping nag he had been forced to ride. Fetherfew's eyes were rolling, she could probably sense his terror and the urgency, but there was a heavy, wheezing nicker as he slowed her back from the near gallop to a safer trot.

The other horses were breathing hard too.

Soaked down in the rain. The stupid matted down fur of the rabbit carcasses seemed so inconsequential.

Such a stupid reason for his sister to-

For him to have brought her out here and gotten her hurt.

If he'd not asked her to come with him for his hunt...

It would have been him trampled by the boar.

He tried to close his eyes off from the tears.

Alexander nearly fell out of his saddle when the hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

It was not as large as Father's own, but Kraok was not a small man.

"Eyes on the road, breathe even. We won't leave her and your sister won't perish. Even the slightest and smallest of Wyrm takes a long time to die. And that's if you spear their heart dead."

Alexander shook his head, then coughed and sobbed and nodded instead.

He was glad it was raining, no one could see what a coward he was to cry when it was his sister that had suffered the most.

The squeeze of the hand on his shoulder left and he was given a firm slap on his back.

"Eyes on the road, hands on the bridle, knees ready, feet solid, we will make it. Just focus on riding at this pace. Any harder and poor featherfew will keel over afore we get there."

And so they rode.

Alexander could not see the sun, the day had practically gone to twilight with the storm clouds, torrents of rain blinding but for a dozen yards ahead.

They broke from the woods into the open fields around Fort Rochford and it was everything he could do to not push the wheezing nag even harder through the rain.

But Kraok set the pace to what felt like a crawl as they trotted far too slowly for Alexander up the winding road.

Drawing through the gates that had never been closed in his entire life and finally pulling to a stop in the courtyard.

He leaped from Fetherfew's back before the stablemaster could even finish arriving to take her reins.

His sopping boots clinging to his toes as he threw his legs ahead of him, desperate to make the distance go away faster. Throwing open the doorway without a care for how he did not close it. Rushing through hallways that now felt far too twisted and long.

Bursting into Father's study where the wizards were.

Alexander was sopping wet and face dripping with more than just rain.

He was ruining the good carpets.

But he couldn't stop to care, the words tumbling out of him.

He couldn't hold any of it in anymore after taking so long to find aide.

"Papa! I'm Sorry! There Was a Boar! It's My Fault! And Jewel! She's Hurt! She's Hurt so BAD! In the Woods! Muriel Is There! She Needs Help!"

Papa was there, lifting him up so suddenly it was like he was magicked into his father's arms and squeezed so tight against his chest.

Papa hadn't done this in years; he was too old for it, Nearly Twelve!

But that didn't matter because Papa was pressing Alexander to his big chest despite how much mud, water (and tears) was getting into his fine clothes.

In all the rush Alexander only just realized he was shivering, teeth chattering from the cold.

And only just because his Papa's arms practically burned in how warm they were around him.

He felt as much as heard the booming voice terribly fierce but also fragile in a way Alexander had NEVER heard his Papa speak to anyone.

"I don't care who is in my service, all of you go NOW! Find her! Help Her and save her or so help me wizard or not I will lay waste to all your domains."

There were sounds that Alexander had never heard before and then a deep brooding silence that was filled with his shivering and chattering teeth and the soft noises of his Papa holding him close and trying to rub some warmth into his trembling body.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.7

Jewel was not sure exactly when breathing started to actually work again.

But one moment her lungs flopped and folded and pulled painfully on the haphazard jumble that had been made of her ribcage uselessly, sucking hard on her crushed throat.

And then the next her chest burned with the clear, frost-parched wind of autumn, driving chill and pain down her throat and into her chest in a great billowing gust. But more importantly, it filled her lungs with air.

Gloriously crisp just before winter air that was a bit out of place in early summer but Jewel was not going to complain about the gift rushing through her lungs.

Honestly Jewel would have been happy to breathe mud if she had too, maybe pond scum or bath water would have been a bonus. To have actual air of any description was just too much good fortune to complain about.

It was like an entirely different kind of fire running through her body. Veins were coming alight with a fierceness that almost smothered her Wyrmfire.

Eyes twitched, nostrils flared and her body shuddered without needing to be dragged around by will and Wyrmfire alone.

Instead things properly just happened because she did them.

Not acting as an intermediary holding her slack body and forcing it to move like a tool rather than a body one inhabited.

She was wet and the storm and the mud around her sang with joy at it. And she too was full of joy as flesh seemed to come awake in lethargic surprise to still be existing and actually there inside her.

Everything was painful but it was a living pain that was bracingly joyous despite its terrible overwhelming depth.

In time, she even managed to do some things besides breathing.

Hearing and seeing were two of them!

"-old you the neck was the most critical issue!"

Tsulogothulan's overly round and at the moment incredibly common-sounding vowels were a feast upon the senses.

But honestly, anything at all was a delight to hear instead of the constant pounding of stale blood in her head.

"Fascinating, by any normal reckoning she should be quite utterly dead. For any other creature several hours of trying to live without breath at all is death. I wonder what's different for Wyrms."

Even Lord Fizzbunches's dry dissection of her own suffering was a joy.

Jewel blinked the rain free of her eyes and slowly turned her head. Finding it curious (and painful) how her lower jaw had already been facing towards the wizards.

"Gzlya?"

Speaking with your jaw dislocated to the extent it is more loosely associated by flesh and tendon with its proper place made even that much speech terrible in its shooting pain and also, of course, utterly unintelligible.

The sound of rain in the branches occurred with a far colder and unseasonal quality announcing that the Autumn Wizard was somehow present but not visible from this angle.

Jewel however could see two of the wizards.

The impeccably dry Fizzbunches, seated upon a rock where for reasons beyond her no rain would fall.

Wetness just failed to touch him in a way that seemed more a fundamental law of the world than a simple state of things, even in this utter downpour. She wondered if that made it difficult for him to drink and thus was why he put away so much small beer during meals.

By contrast, Tsulogothulan seemed to be so eagerly welcomed by the wet mud, muck and downpour of rain that the clothing seemed wholly more solid and almost like it was just a blink away from eagerly sprouting tall reeds and bubbling over with frog, fish and heron.

The humanity of their posture all but lost now, everything about them obviously being far more a sculpture of some tall reedy bird or a moss twisted tree bent by humidity than anything in the shape of a man or woman.

It was laughable to think Jewel had ever thought the Bog Weird was anything so human.

"Oh you're awake Lady Jewel? I would recommend against moving much, or even trying to speak to be honest. Just slow careful breaths. As that seems to be doing you the most good of everything else we tried. Just rest and we will see what we can do about the rest of you."

Jewel could agree to that. Simply laying in the cool jovial mud and friendly rain and only moving as much as was required to inflate her lungs in the jumble that had been made of her ribs sounded quite good.

Although she thought maybe she should go a bit easier than she had been with the breathing.

Very slowly now in fact if her heart would just settle down and stop panicking with the sudden abundance of breathable substances.

She did understand its worry over never having more again, truly. But the desperate muscle did not need to empty her blood of every single scrap of good feeling and set her aching to gasp as big and heavy as possible.

That made her pain considerably worse than just simply existing entailed.

At this point Jewel was pretty sure there was barely a joint or part of her body entirely put together the way it was supposed to be, besides the wholeness of her individual bones and the unbroken scales of her hide. Which was a bit of a puzzler when it came to how one was even going to fix anything.
A conundrum that was giving the trio of wizards pause as well.

The Bog Wizard slid through the mud, totally in their element. Appearing in great wet splashes at one side of Jewel and then pouring back into the mud before sprouting on another side to peer in a truly avian manner at the mess the boar had made of her with that singular eye.
"I must confess I'm not sure where to go next after this, Fizzbunches, The neck was obviously needing to be pried open so air could flow. But the rest? She's a terrible mess. How are you feeling, Lady Jewel?"

"Eaaahegh! eghah!"

In horrific pain Lady Sorcerer! Thank you for asking! But she was still so heady with the joy of simply having anything going in and out of her lungs that was a trifling matter. Even flapping her tongue around ached and hurt in sympathy to the truly astounding amounts of screaming pain coming from everything to do with her jaw.

Fizzbunches jumped from his stone to land on her tumbled ribs. And wasn't that a new form of pain, but not atrociously overwhelming pain. Jewel was finding there were nuances and qualities to pain that she had never imagined existed before.

"Since breathing is doing so much for her, I say we work at her ribcage next. Euewyn, I want you to push as much of the north wind as you can down her throat. Tsulogothulan? With me as I pull these ribs into a proper place and set them to heal."

Oh, that did not sound good. Jewel found her previous admonishment to her heart a bit hypocritical. Go on oh dear little clenching fearball of meat! Beat with all your terribly painful vigor because both of us are about to be-

!!!

Jewel was pretty sure the only reason she did not thrash out of her position sunk into the mud was because nothing in her body could manage better than minor shivers with the state she was in.

So much inside her chest was bruised terrible soreness now.

This was only an improvement in contrast to how terrible having most of one's ribs flipped, twisted over and sometimes even shuffled under each other had been.

And it did make breathing in full lungs a less arduous affair.

Barely.

All of the muscles inside were quivering and strained into nearly exhausted jelly after no longer being over extended and sprained by improper relation of their anchoring bones in her chest.

Jewel didn't even know she had muscles for breathing there until today.

But their abused presence and complaints made it clear she absolutely did, and she promised she would find something nice and soothing to do for them as soon as she figured out how.

Maybe a good submerging in a bath?

Until then…

Euewyn was more than welcome to keep sending that slightly-biting wind down her throat, please. She could barely muster the strength to inflate her chest even half as well as the Autumn Weird was managing.

But eventually Jewel was forced to do it on her own as the Wizards went back to puzzling over just how to put the scrambled puzzle that had been made of her skeleton back together and in which order.

Jewel turned her eyes (the only thing that only sort of hurt, instead of absolutely hurt) to find Muriel sat in a heap breathing hard in the rain, just sat in the mud getting her leathers horribly muddy, leaving her sword to rust!

She wanted to draw attention to that, Muriel had been very strict with Alexander about proper care of swords.

But no, after fully seeing the shock, misery and relief in that face. The way that it was more than rain that made her face look so wet?

Muriel was breaking down in a way Jewel had never seen before.

Because of Jewel?

Because of Alexander?

ALEXANDER?!

"Alelahaha!"

She tried moving and was promptly admonished for it. Not that she even mustered the motion to shift Fizzbunches where he was pacing up and down her flanks staring at the state of her spine and then hips.

"Lady Jewel! While I'm certain it won't make it any worse for you, please stop moving, this is going to take quite a great deal of time as it is!"

She stopped flailing as hard as particularly lethargic moss, but tried speaking again.

"Alelahaha!"

Her tongue slapped around in her gaping jaws and half the time met the loamy taste of mud and torn up grass, the other half doused in the soothing humor of rain and storm.

She could see Muriel trying to draw herself together and pry her backside out of where it had sunk into the mud. If this was not serious Jewel would have accepted the pain that laughing involved.

"Alelahaha! Eh ah Alelahaha!"

Which seemed to fall deaf on all ears, or the equivalent amongst the wizards and Muriel.

"Well fine if you insist I guess we will work on the jaw next. Now stop trying to speak so we can do this right the first time. Tsulogothulan!"

And this time Jewel was able to stay just barely aware enough through the blinding all encompassing pain to see what happened.

She had to admit that if you told her she was going to be healed by magic, she would have expected it to involve a whole lot less mud in her mouth and paws all over her face and a lot more shining light and warm fuzzy feelings.

Or maybe some kind of herbs?

But the sudden, densely packed wet earth was quite good at shoving, twisting and holding her dislocated jaw from every side.

And Fizzbunches could press almost as hard as the boar did with those dainty little pads on his paws.

Which made her head ring with an all-encompassing pop as her jaw was forced despite its protests back where it was supposed to go.

It was a whole lot less magical than she had been expecting. Although there was the way that despite her entire mouth, nose and everything below her eyes being filled with rain and mud it came away from both her and the cat's paws entirely clean leaving her tongue feeling kind of weirdly tingly from the absolute absence of flavor.

"Aughnclagh Blecgh!"

Oh my, her mouth all hurt almost as much to use as her ribs did for breathing!

"Ahw ohhww! Alahs- Ahem"

Jewel sputtered and struggled, suddenly, hilariously finding her mouth and tongue just a bit too confined and feeling small after so long letting them hang loose and over stretched. A few wet slaps and a gulp of soggy mud was nice though.

Okay, again!

"Alaxandur! Whur Alaxahndur!"

Which got Fizzbunches' yowl of annoyance and stomping with his dainty little paws down her neck to examine the horrific mess made of her many shoulders.

Tsulogothulan however looked over at Muriel who had finally found her way over (still bereft her sword! Don't leave it in the mud! What if Alexander saw?!).

Before saying the words that made Jewel relax so much she forgot to breathe and got yelled at and her lungs filled with more icy sharp autumn wind.

"He's fine, Lady Jewel. He rode near a gallop through the storm to get help."

A gallop?!

In the rain!?

Her Idiot brother was lucky he didn't break his neck!

Why If he had been anything but fine she would-

Jewel did not know what she would do.

But it would be incredibly unladylike and improper!

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.8

Eventually Father along with what might very well be the entire household's contingent of footmen and even the Knight of Garmendan Lothlar arrived.

Sopping and soaked to the bone.

Carrying storm lanterns barely alight in the downpour.

They cast the once pleasant meadow into gold-traced gloom, revealing the muck of the torn up battlefield it had become.

Dragging an empty tun-sized cart pulled by four draft horses that seemed to be having a difficult time with the sucking mud that had become of anywhere that was not spongy weaves of grass, tangled knots of roots or treacherously slick stones.

Jewel was mostly put together properly again. Nothing was actually wrenched out of place anymore.

But everywhere she had gotten her joints pressed back together either felt tender, sprained, bruised or otherwise over stretched or twisted.

Muscles and ligaments and crunchy gristle Jewel could have gone without knowing was inside her were so pained and overexerted it made moving almost as difficult as before.

But according to Fizzbunches and Tsulogothulan, she was well enough to heal on her own now, given rest.

It helped that her Wyrmflame was stoked to near full, almost brimming out of her in the torrents of the storm and the way the lightning danced percussively through the sky.

So she was able to at least hold herself (carefully) aloft on that alone, making herself a little presentable.

"F-father, I'm sor-UReeeK"

The crushing hug around her neck enveloping her was not doing anything good to her overly sore muscles. Especially not where the boar had crushed her windpipe closed.

He abruptly released her at the improper squeal of pain with a squint of apology to his eyes.

"You're alright? When Alexander came I feared the worst but you look quite hale! Good job dau-"

Fizzbunches yowled loudly and sharply.

"Lord Rochford, your daughter was for all accounts and practicalities a corpse with a heart beat when we reached her. The boar had trampled and crushed her, pulled every limb out of joint and place and crushed her throat until it stuck that way! It's been the effort of all THREE of us to revive her as well as we did and I shall only not be charging you for the trial above and beyond the promised service of one of us because the chance to study her skeletal structure and incredible tenacity to survive where any mortal creature would succumb is within the remit of study you still have yet to fully finalize the agreement for."

The dark glint in her father's eyes hinted at violence before he heaved with a sigh and bowed his head towards Fizzbunches.

The conceit drew a startled meep from Jewel and a few surprised glances from the accompanying household.

Though Muriel seemed too exhausted and sodden to react. She had finally, after Jewel's admonishments, gotten her sword out of the mud and even made an effort to dry it out under the downpour.

But it likely would need a solid treating and oiling after tonight.

"Lord Sorcerer Fizzbunches, for this service here? I pledge that if you include the full care towards healing and protection you showed toward my daughter this evening you will have your writ of access for your arcane studies, and if you so vouch for them I will even extend that to any that bear your seal. On the stipulation you are responsible if any should use such seals to bring harm or dishonor to my house or mine."

The smug cat wizard was incredibly smug, dry as a bone despite the downpour. Looking up at Father in a way that somehow was still looking down his nose at the great man.

Jewel focused on keeping herself aloft and as gently cradled in her Wyrmfire as possible.

"Such a momentous decision I can accept in principle. But we should wait till we are all well rested before committing it to writ and vellum. I will hold no obligation to your house for tonight regardless how you feel in the 'morrow."

And with that he spun around a corner and left them all standing there in the rain.

Of which only Jewel and Tsulogothulan seemed entirely unperturbed by it.

Even Euewyn was a bit sodden and unhappy looking under so much precipitation. Constantly throwing eddies and zephyrs of chiller, cooler autumn wind up and about to rustle the raindrops from her leaves.

Releasing whistling agitations like the keening displeasure of sparrow and the arguing of squirrel and other tree vermin that Jewel was pretty sure was as close as the Autumn Wizard would manage to cursing in a way not taken literally.

Father turned to address his gathered Footmen and nodded heavily to them before marching over to the absolutely massive hillock of a corpse that had been the boar.

"Kraok! It was you who struck the blow who felled this beast?"

The footman stood up and marched over to father to nod, a head shorter than him now that Jewel could see them standing together.

"My Lord, it was a group effort, Lady Jewel was tangling with the beast and the Governess Murial also was making strikes. Further more Arberson and... Gimletson... It is not my honor alone."

Muriel shouted over the thunder and the roar of water crashing into the forest, wind in the leaves.

"Sod off it Kraok! While we were being flung about and toyed with like babes at a tournament you lunged yourself UNDER the beast to skewer its heart!"

Father raised a hand for 'silence' although the storm refused his orders, bringing thunder and lightning and if anything even heavier torrents of rain.

Then turned and walked, boots squelching in the muddy bog that had been made of this side of the meadow in the rain and the churned up mess the boar had made in its battle with them.

He looked over the four-tusked beast that Alexander had baited out of the woods and taken poor Gimletson's life.

That corpse was already wrapped tight in burial cloth, sans quite a lot of the innards which were probably mixed into the mud at their ankles right now.

Finally Father spoke with a heavy tone.

"This beast took the life of one of my subjects and your comrade right before your eyes and would have murdered my only son. It brutalized my daughter to the brink of death and likely would have slain her as well if not for you."

Father turned to Kraok and clasped his shoulder in a hand that nearly brought his fingers to the shorter man's throat.

"This beast could have cut all of my line down this very day. But it did not because you struck with honor and bravery against a foe no one could expect you to survive."

He brought his brow down to meet Kraok's own and was still a moment, everyone was silent.

Father's words cut through them all as he held the footman there speaking firmly over the wind and rain.

"You have earned the right to call yourself my Knight."

He stood and Kraok stood straighter.

"I name You Sir Kraok Boarslayer and grant you all the privileges and responsibilities deserving that station, including the right to a landed title and a dynastic household yourself. I swear to defend this honor by my house and name."

He turned back to the muddy heap of a corpse.

"Now let's get this monstrosity gutted, cleaned and loaded on the cart. I don't know about all of you but I'm ready to get indoors and dry by the hearth fire and then a soft bed."

A laugh from the footmen as Father beamed even in the dark of the woods at dusk in a torrential downpour.

"We have a feast long-delayed today so there will be plenty of food to be had. But tomorrow I declare a festival! All of you and all of my demesne shall enjoy the fruits of Kraok's victory! A hunting festival for the champions who took down the Terror-Boar!"

And with that, the many hands of the foot took to work preparing the colossal carcass and hoisting it up onto the wagon, whose heavy wheels sank deeply into the mire that was being made of the road.

But Rochford's draft horses were sturdy as oxen and far more clever and sure-footed.

Where the wheels would not turn through the muck the man and beast alike pulled and pushed to simply slide the burdened cart over tree roots and stones and through the near-streams that some of the deer paths had become in the rain.

On the way inward into the woods brush had been cleared and even the smaller saplings had been cut down and torn up from their roots.

But the way back was still incredibly slow.

The cart had passed unburdened into the woods and now it bore the weight of a mountain of boar flesh that pressed it ever deeper into the mud with every pace they seemed to get it forward.

This continued at a crawl until Tsulogothulan finally seemed to have had enough watching them struggle and took to the head of the procession.

"Really now! You are going to work so hard when you have the stated service of a Sorcerer and Weird of bog and all that steps, crawls and swims in its waters and mud?! Fools all of you! Behold!"

And after that quite a few men had to leap back and the horses had a momentary fright before their ability to move was taken from them.

For as had been done with repairing and shifting Jewel's own broken body, the mud and water of the forest's impromptu bog swelled up around them all and carried cart, horse and any footmen too slow to get out of the way bobbing along and through the woods. Swallowing the animal and men alike up to their necks to hold them fast and speed them ahead and along the route.

Tsulogothulan's laughter was the most inhuman Jewel had ever heard the wizard, sounding more like a murder of crows having great delight than any sound of human throat.

But it somehow complemented the ride and after the initial shock those men caught in the mud made the most of the situation and hollered in merriment along with.

It was barely much faster than a trot yes, but significantly better than the sluggish trudge they had been going before. And likely meant they would indeed reach Fort Rochford before sunrise.

Jewel honestly would not have minded the slower pace. It would have meant she could take it easier.

She stayed close to Father riding astride one of the tallest warhorses from their stable, Midnight Justice; an imposingly powerful beast so black and shining he hardly stood out from the night in their scattered lantern light.

He would have been entirely invisible if not for Father and all the glittering metal of the stallion's full kit.

One of the few beasts beside Zephyrvam that could bear Father's weight for longer than a short circuit around the courtyard.

Hovering and moving as little of her body as possible though Jewel could just about keep pace. Barely moving a limb if she could help it, pressing herself up on almost entirely the will of Wyrmfire alone.

She could see him wincing when he saw her own pained care with her every limb.

"Don't worry father! I kept Alexander safe, and the Wizards say that I probably will recover entirely. You don't need to concern yourself with me."

Which got nothing but the saddest chuckle she had ever heard her Father ever make.

With the pain of the talking and the shame she felt over not having somehow stopped Alexander before it all happened Jewel remained silent.

But her Father's warm presence was enough.

Jewel was starting to think she did not in fact like hunting after all.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

2.9

The next morning, Jewel just wanted to lie in her bed and not move, or maybe take another hot bath if it was available. She was still so incredibly, utterly sore.

Breathing was a labor that had not gotten easier even after a long hot soak in her bath.

Sleeping had been a chore, and she was paying for the constant cries of her many aches and pains drawing her away from restful slumber.

Yesterday's celebration for Alexander had mostly been canceled. Not that the food had not been eaten. Even Jewel had managed the laborious chewing and swallowing to get herself a proper meal before bed.

The rest had been eaten by the footmen, guests and Father.

But there had been absolutely no ceremony to it, everyone except the wizards was exhausted, the footmen, Muriel and Father were soaked and cold.

It had been a very muted affair mostly consisting of people sitting in front of blazing hearth fires and mechanically chewing through the food. Some quiet joviality but mostly just shivering and trying to get warm.

After they arrived, there had been much to do to get the boar situated in the larder for the butchers today.

And then all the gear and armor had to be dried, then oiled lest it rust, and stowed away. The horses had to be cared for. That task had fallen to the Stable staff and those footmen that had brought horses from the village. Given the late hour of their return many had gotten even less sleep than Jewel.

All around last night had been exhausting for everyone involved.

Jewel heard the noise continue into the night for long hours past normal. She was unable to sleep at all but for fitful naps before a twinge or her own aching chest woke her no matter how she lay.

Not even soaking in the bath had been entirely without ache and pain despite how wonderfully the water buoyed her.

Jewel was exhausted and she knew she was not alone in that, but Father would be up for his duties and she needed to be as well.

He had declared a festival feast would be held for the entire demesne and all the villages of the barony.

To celebrate the Knighting of Kraok and the slaying of the beast, now named and whispered in newly sprouting legend.

That would keep everyone busy for days at least while things were scheduled, prepared and word sent out across the barony.

All to celebrate the ending of a monster.
Terror-Boar.

She could not fault the choice in name.

If Jewel had not listened to how Knightly stories of adventure accumulated embellishments like burs in a sheep's wool she might be surprised the way the tale already was growing beyond reason.

It seemed likely that by the time they had eaten the thing to the bone, the story would say it had been taller than the highest tower of the fort and slew a hundred men before a gallant hero and some stupid aggrandizing version of herself took it down with nary a scratch.

Which okay that was technically true for Jewel, but that was because her own skin was armored scale that little could pierce at this point.

Uncuttable did not in fact mean invulnerable.

She was so tired and everything hurt.

But a festival meant there was work to be done, preparations to make and scheduling to set. She supposed the local villagers would appreciate it, they had already gotten a less ostentatious relief day just after the Wizard's arrival.

But the ones closer to the borders? She wondered if they would enjoy the bother of needing to send sufficient representation to not give insult.

The hay harvests were still at least another ten days in coming, if the weather had not delayed that. So it's not like the peasants had anything terribly important to do, but traveling for anyone without flight eats into time like nothing else.

She hoped the gift of salted boar meat or whatever they were going to do with the carcass would make up for the inconvenience. It's not like they had enough mouths to eat all of it fresh among the demesne.

But everyone was busy with the preparations for the Festival on top of normal obligations. And here Jewel was laying like a lump in bed!
There was no delaying it - Jewel had to be up and about, for appearances if nothing else.

It helped that she could smell the wonderful scent of the butchers and cook-smoke and the delectable salting of slabs of bacon being prepared for the ceremonial gifts to go along with the pieces that would more immediately be roasted for those already present.

The smell helped buoy her towards the feast hall and the far less savory breakfast of porridge.

Moving through the halls was arduous: without the power of a thunderstorm she could not afford to lug herself around on Wyrmfire alone. Which meant that although Jewel did not have to do unassisted walking (if she did she would just lay in bed and wait to die or heal, whichever came first) but it was still an endless strain on her still sore muscles.

And it did not help when she finally reached the table.

Jewel gave one look at her 'seat' and silently and with no acknowledgement of guest, family or staff pushed the offending furniture to the wall of the room and slumped her coils thankfully on the comfortable stones and their soft encouraging memories.

No one said anything about how she was not being a proper lady and she was hurting too much to be shamed by her behavior.

Breakfast was exhausting and mostly silent for actual conversation. Oh, there was plenty of speaking but it was all Mother and Father consulting with the household staff on the preparations of what Jewel had already heard being called the Summer Boar festival.

She wondered if it would turn into a proper celebration every year? The thoughts helped her delay trying to grapple with breakfast.

It was hard to muster the will to eat her porridge properly, and after the third shaky scoop of porridge and the prospect of trying to finish her usual portion that way, Jewel dropped her spoon and succumbed to expedience and her lesser nature. She grabbed her bowl, stiffly opened her mouth and started gulping breakfast down as swiftly as possible.

It still hurt to swallow but at least it was over fast.

She finished it in a single sitting, swallowing it down more like a tankard than a meal.

Finishing with a heavy clatter of her bowl. It was not even fully licked clean like she usually did. But even her tongue was sore and Jewel could barely find it in herself to bother licking the scraps of porridge from her face where they had settled around her lips and nose.

Damnation and gods above and out she was worse than Alexander today.
But no one admonished her like she expected and had braced for.

Her brother did not mock her. He'd avoided even looking at her, gloomy in mood. Flinching from her gaze.

That hurt.

Mother had nothing to say and Father only commented softly.

"Glad to see you with an appetite, Daughter."

She only nodded and waited for Muriel to arrive for whatever lessons or activity they would be expected to do today, probably something related to the festival.

But everyone's meal was finished with no sign of the Governess.

The two Wizards who actually woke up in the morning took their leave and as usual the guest Knight had taken his morning meal with the footmen at dawn.

Finally looking around Jewel drug the words from her throat, feeling a buzzing creak from the ache that she had thought banished since she was seven.

"Where is Miss Muriel? For our Lessons?"

Alexander flinched a bit inwards.

Mother smiled with a brittleness to her eyes.

"Your Father and I thought it best if you and Alexander have some time to restore yourselves from your ordeal, And for you to recuperate especially dear Daughter. Even the greatest warrior must convalesce after such a battle."

Father nodded and then added his own thoughts.

"Furthermore Miss Muriel is in need of some rest herself to fortify her spirit and requested time for a reprieve from her duties."

Jewel blinked at that and hummed a bit.

She didn't like that at all, but then again she had not been looking forward to any possible physical lessons.

But to have nothing at all to do while others were so busy?

That almost hurt more than everything else in her body.

Then again without Muriel she could help Alexander as much as she wanted.

Yes, there was something she could do that involved nothing but lounging comfortably against friendly stones and time with those she most wanted to spend it with in all the world.

Putting thought to words Jewel called out to her brother.

"Well that hardly seems proper to a lady of my station... But if you insist, Alexander! Would you like to join me in Father's Study? I believe we were only part way through the third volume of Historica Naturalis Cantora!"

Jewel had actually finished that one but she knew Alexander had not, and honestly she wanted to do nothing more than read to her brother in that way that kept his attention and made the dry events written by the author shine in his eyes and spark his imagination.

The shocked look of surprise, wariness and then tearful relief that crossed her brother's face almost made the aches in her chest seem to vanish.

But they returned with a vengeance when he seized her in the tightest hug his small frame could manage.

That hurt so much it hilariously made her laugh.

Which just hurt more and made her and the rest of her family laugh even harder in pained relief.