Embla startled the moment she felt the flare go off. “We move.”

She did not wait for her maidens to respond, strapping the helmet in place and moving forward. She was the first to step out of the forest and to the road. Her war-axe swung once, twice, and she began to draw in her power as she didn’t bother to hide from the maidens above.

If they killed the fliers, those below would know. And if they didn’t, they would know all the same. Better to preserve their energy for the objective. The five maidens behind her were the fastest amongst her fighters.

Her eyes locked on the fortifications. Wood, temporary, hastily put up. The feral rush had hit this place hard. The twelve guards wore the Hunter’s uniform. Maidens that were there to fend off ferals, the town had never been approached by the kind of danger Embla represented.

The Dark Lady prepared the first spell, pooling her power on to her helm.

“Ferals! Sound the alarm!”

The roar rang out in an explosion, and immediately the horns rang out, warning the city of a potential incoming feral wave. Still, the guards shouted out for Embla to stop and identify herself. But she didn’t even bother to slow down.

“I have orders! Where is the knight captain!?”

Their hesitation was all she needed to cut the remaining distance. One of them shouted for the large wooden door to close. But Embla jumped, heaving her arms backwards and reinforcing her whole body. With a solid ‘thump’ against the ground, her feet planted themselves firmly, and she threw the massive war-axe, charging it with as much power as she could pump into the weapon.

More sounds of alarm, shrieks, screams, and the wooden door exploded in a rain of splinters, knocking away the weaker maidens and clearing the way for Embla and her own. A few managed to toss some ability or technique or spell, but they washed off of Embla’s armor like rain over stone as she picked up her weapon and continued moving.

With a heave, Embla leapt to the closest rooftop, locking on to Barry’s location. She did not bother to slow down for her fighters, instead leaping towards her target without slowing down. Her senses stretched out, looking for threats. She found eight knights, their powers flaring out and dancing in a beat of panic and determination.

But only one was chasing her beloved.

A growl lingered on her throat, the war-axe charged with power, hackles rising as she pushed her aura out in every direction. A threat, a beacon, a call for anyone to dare come after her. A distraction. A very loud distraction. Maidens all over the town ran for cover, while those with power moved to protect their homes. Neither was of concern to Embla as she’d detected the knight chasing Barry had hesitated.

That was good enough. She lifted her great battle-axe and with a roar, threw it in the direction of the Lord’s manor.

Her steps slowed as she focused on the projectile she’d thrown, her arm screaming in complaint as the piece of wood and metal soared across the sky in a beautiful arc. It left a trail of sparkling iridescent aberrant energy.

Out of the manor, eight figures emerged. Embla guessed them to be knights, but they were too far away for her to be able to properly sense their power. Though that doubt went away when they collectively cast a spell of some sort, a barrier, thick and humming with power. The axe impacted against the barrier, the sound of glass shattering rung across the town, and the weapon exploded, taking the shield with it and scattering the knights that had made the barrier.

For a brief moment, Embla lamented the loss of her favorite weapon.

She’d get Lala to make her a new one.

The knight that had been chasing Barry had very quickly changed direction towards her, and Embla nodded to herself. This would surely be a very fun figh-.

Barry’s emotions lashed out, fear, anxiousness, and determination. A desire to leave, to avoid the fight. They made Embla’s brows furrow, taking a step back from the glee of a prospective fight and considering the future of the Court.

With a grimace, she turned, heading in the direction opposite to the one Barry and her fighters were taking. They would run out the hole she’d left on the town’s defenses, and in the meantime, Embla turned to make a new hole in turn. It didn’t take her much time, and she had a considerable head start on the knights.

A part of her roiled at the thought that she’d miss out on the first good fight in a while. But it was her mission.

So she ran. It would take her several days to be able to make sure none could follow her trail back to the Court.

The girl Barry had brought with him was a meek thing, a healer, a proper one. Her pink hair marked her as a rapha, and the girl had been knocked out cold the moment she’d bonded Barry. The young man had complained, but Embla pointed out that if he wanted to give her the option to return to civilization, then she could never know the Court’s true location.

Lala and Barry had been quiet while walking through the forest, and from the young man’s aura, Embla could read flickers of distress within an otherwise determined facade. Embla pondered on this matter as she carried the healer towards her mother’s room, not broaching the subject with her human.

If something troubled his heart, he would share it when he was ready.

The smell of salves was thick in the air, something very close to mint, but with a great deal of things that made the smell wrong. Embla’s senses prickled at the sensation of power in the room, the many spells that had been woven in attempts to stimulate the Great Lady’s body to at least not worsen. To hold out for longer. For a strong maiden, these spells could save their lives. They’d need only wait long enough and all wounds would heal. But not the Warlock. Her body was too frail, too old, too weak.

The nurse was laid down on the floor next to the cot, and the curse of slumber lifted.

“Let me.”

Barry stepped between Embla and the nurse, kneeling next to her and looking at the pretty young thing with those calming eyes. The nurse woke, startled, but it did not take Barry long to calm her down.

“It is simple.” Embla made a gesture at the cot. “She dies, you die. She lives. You get to choose if you leave or stay with Barry.”

“Who…” The nurse paused, gaze turning from Barry to Embla, and then to the cot. Slowly, she nodded. “I understand, ma’am.”

“Good.” Embla sat down on the floor. “You may begin.”

“I’ll stay here too.” Barry said sheepishly, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Embla. “She’s intense, but she means well. It’s her mother.”

The healer nodded slightly, reaching out to touch the hand of the sleeping of Dagmar. Instantly, her eyes widened in shock and fear, pulling her hand away and glancing from Embla to Barry, and then back to the unconscious matron on the bed.

“She is… what kind of maiden is she?”

“A Warlock.” Embla declared. “They are maidens of great elemental powers, but weak physiology.”

The healer hesitated, shaking her head. “I have read of Warlocks, but she does not feel as one would, not entirely.”

Embla growled, but stayed her hand as Barry gently laid his touch upon her shoulder. “And what is she?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” Reaching back to touch on Dagmar’s hand, she grimaced. “It feels as if she has been changed by something, or someone, fleshcrafting of a high degree.” A long pause, and a grimace. “There is something else within her, something that is also alive, but barely.” Again, she pulled her hand away, realization dawning on her features. “A… plant?”

The word made Embla freeze, eyes widening.

“Oh.” She stood up slowly, turning towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Barry asked.

“I know what is wrong with the Great Lady.” Embla declared. “We were wrong. We’d sought a healer, and what we’d needed was a gardener.”