The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom XV

Dawn of the 13th day, Castle Frost

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The falcon bows his head to the falconer, and suddenly before her eyes a knight stands. “I am Heldris the Dove Knight, I come with a message for your King.”

Referee

Your slur your words and sway and your body feels alien with a dead limb hanging from your side. The Rusalki drops her knife and steadies you and calls for servants who lead you down the winding stairs and through endless marble halls, austere and cold, and lined with statues who watch you with their dead eyes. The throne room is a freezing tomb and on his throne of ice sits the King, large as a whale. “WE HAVEN'T MET IN YOUR DREAMS, DOVE KNIGHT” he roars “BUT YOU ARE WELL LOVED BY THOSE WHOSE DREAMS I VISITED.” His face is all white beard and shines like the moon and his small eyes sparkle ”HOW WILL YOU SERVE ME AGAINST THE USURPER?”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight bows respectfully. “I thank you for your kind words, my lord.” He stands tall, shivering in the freezing air of the throne room. “I bring news of a weakness in the usurper's defences, and of sedition among their ranks.” He pauses, weighing his next words. “Your Majesty's been kind to us, and we have been their watchful eyes. We ask for one last thing: to access the southern gate to our land. Ashling and Osier will cross the threshold with us, and that'll leave the usurper even weaker. And if a way is known to you to break the spell that bound Osier to this world, that'll be a mighty blow to Coredis’ pride for sure.” The Dove Knight bows, and proceeds to relate about the northern tower of the Halls of Desire, and the way it can be accessed from outside.

Referee

The Winter King looks down at his Marshall who wears an eclectic armour that bears trophies of many battles. Her white hair partly obscures her face but you see a jagged scar running down to her jaw line. She has tilted her head to the side, frowning and has urged you to speak up more than once. “I will prepare the troops, my lord!” she exclaims almost as loud as the king. Her cane strikes the marble floor and the sound echoes through the halls as she leaves. “ONE OF MY SERVANTS RIDES WITH YOU. HE AGREED TO THE PRICE WHEN HE ENTERED. NOW HE HAS TO PAY WHAT HE OWS. ONLY THEN WILL I ALLOW YOU TO LEAVE THROUGH THE SOUTHERN HILLS.

Castle Frost

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

“What is the price that you asked?” Asks Heldris, raising his voice like the Marshall did.

Referee

The Winter King shifts on his throne, a single block of glacial ice, and his colossal presence seems to fill the hall as he roars. “MY SERVANT OWES ME HIS LIFE AND I WILL COME TO CLAIM IT.”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris turns pale and stares at the imposing figure, at loss for words. He mutters something, then gets hold of himself and raises his voice: “I’m sure Your Majesty will see how the service we’ve done can pay your.. servant’s price more than enough.” He gestures to the freezing hall around him. “With our help, and that of your servant most of all, you’ll have the usurper’s head and shall rule your rightful kingdom once again.”

Referee

A deafening silence fills the hall and you stand forlorn under a chandelier of stars. You hear footsteps and a young Rusalki in an ancient tunic of white silk bows to you and whispers: “The King wishes to rest and you must be tired as well. We will ride for the Usurper's palace as soon as the war machines are ready to be deployed.” She puts her small cold hand on yours and you see blue veins under her almost translucent skin. “I can take you to your quarters if you wish to rest and ride with us at noon or saddle a steed if you prefer to leave now.”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris shivers at the touch of her cold hand. “Please, I need one further word with the King.” He steps forward, declaiming as loud as he can: “I will join your host, you’ll have my knowledge of their defences, the cunning of my race, and the swiftness of my sword that slew one of theirs only a few hours ago. All that will make sure you are no match for the usurper. On one condition, consider my service to repay at least a portion of what the Fox Knight owes you.” The Dove Knight bows low, and falls silent

Referee

You hear the young Rusalki inhale sharply and she tries to pull you away but you refuse to move. Behind you the doors to the hall open and you hear wheels grinding over the marble floor. “YOUR KIND IS EAGER TO STRIKE A BARGAIN BUT UNWILLING TO FACE THE CONSEQUENCES” The King rises slowly and towers over you.”MY SERVANT HAS PLEDGED HIS LIFE TO BE CONSUMED, WILLINGLY AND WITH A CLEAR MIND” He lowers himself into the wheeled palanquin, massive like a battle ram and pulled by a dozen slaves. He grunts when he comes to rest on hides and furs and closes his eyes. ”HIS SACRIFICE WILL STRENGHTEN THE REALM” he sighs and the slaves start pulling him away.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Impatience surpasses its limit, and the Dove Knight scowls. “What good do my human words do when I only have a wall to talk to?” he mumbles, too quiet to be heard. He dons the glove again and turns into a falcon, there in the throne room. A flutter of wings, in the reflection of the many candles, and he flies back the way he came. In the falconry, he lands on a perch and looks at the falconer with that enigmatic look that pertains to birds. He then turns to his kin and addresses their bunch: “Fly with me to the south, out of this land of cold. Scatter and look for help: from the lesser birds, from the cunning fox, the angry bear and the lonesome wolf. And I promise you a safer home and never a day of hunger.” He cries and flaps his great wings, and flies off to find his brothers.

Referee

You take flight from the wooden plank and one after the other the falcons follow. The earth falls away and your feathered brothers compete with you to be the first above the clouds and then you fly south towards the sun as one. At noon they cry “Where will we meet again?”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As Heldris spots the Knights and the Wild Hunt in pursuit, he cries to the falcons to signal a change of plan: "Too late, stay close to me, we'll distract the hunters" The birds regroup close to great falcon and flies towards the hunt, distracting their hounds and horses with their loud cries.

Referee

You see torches below you, and in its light Milos surrounded by the wild Fae. The falcons smell the sweat of the hunters and panic and beg you to flee.

Morning of the 13th day, near Olwen's Bridge

You ride south under a grey sky and it is very cold. At noon you cross a wild brook that feeds the foaming river and you hear the sound of hooves on snow and when you look over your shoulder you see a warband of Fae warriors in full gallop approaching. The Wild Hunt is upon you.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake grabs the reins, and calls to his brothers. "They are upon us! We must ride, and pray for opportunity ahead." Behind him, he feels his son lean forward. "Father, let me take care of them. I will dazzle their senses, lame their horses, turn the very elements against them!" Perilake's blood freezes. "No, Avert!" He snaps, and feels the boy's scowl in the sudden tension. "Your power has a price, and it may well be one we must pay. But only when we must!" He steers the horse forward, and the brothers flee.

Referee

You flee over the frozen marshland and the steeds foam at their mouths and you feel their heart beat and their sweat on your legs. Whenever you look over your shoulder the Hunt seems closer, a cloud of snow around them and they don't relent. You pass a forest while the hidden sun sets and you reach the foothills of the mountains and the Hunt follows. Between the naked trees on the hills it is already night and you pass a mound rising from a pond and you see the dancing torches of the Fae below you

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos reigns in his horse and stares down the slope at the multitude of torches. "We cannot evade them" he declares in a hurried whisper. "I will attempt to misdirect them with an illusion and buy you time. Ride hard for the gate and I will catch up as I can." Not waiting for objections, he turns his horse to prepare to ride north along the ridge.

Referee

Perilake's steed rears up and in a swift motion Osier glides off the saddle. His face is flushed with excitement as he tries to get hold of your reins: "Your illusion is weak and they will be upon you in the blink of an eye." he whispers urgently. “Let me show you sorcery that will help them escape, spells that my father can be proud of.” He looks into your eyes from below and he never looked more Fae. “If you are willing to give me some of your spirit, I can help you weave a strong glamour"

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight hesitates. A sudden gust of wind carries the frenzied voices of the Wild Hunt to all their ears and he looks to Perilake with a pained expression. "I promise to protect him with my life."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake looks pale and deathly unhappy, and grips his son's arm. "Come back to me Avert, please. I am proud of you, I am proud of your bravery. In your sacrifice here, whether you see it. Come back to me."

Referee

Osier shakes Perilake's hand off, mounts the steed and settles smoothly onto the blanket behind Milos. “Flee west, father” His voice is barely more than a whisper. ”Your squire will find the portal in the southern hills even without me. We will follow as soon as we can but if you don't move now even the strongest glamour won't be able to trick Stribog.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos and Osier find an outcropping of rock a short distance to the north behind which they dismount silently. Crouching in the darkness together, Milos whispers "With your help, I will attempt the sending from here. Take what you need from me to give it force and reach, but not so much that I am too addled to orchestrate the ruse and make our escape afterwards." He offers his hand palm up to the boy.

Referee

Osier places the briar into Milos palm. For a moment he looks like a boy tasked with threading the needle or another mundane problem, frowning and with his tongue between his teeth but then he puts his fist around your hand and the thorns pierce your skin. A shot of pleasure runs up your arm as if your blood turned to gold, warm and bright and with it comes a wild triumph and you feel your lips stretching into an inhuman grin and Osier bares his teeth: “Yes, Milos, this is how it feels. Now show Stribog how well humans can play their game”.

You know that you are up on the rock with Osier but now you step out between trees and stand before the Hunt. Stribog raises a torch above his wolf's head to get a better look at you with his yellowed eyes. “Has Perilake sent his young cub to be slaughtered?” He throws his head back and howls with laughter.

The Wild Hunt is upon them

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Zoltan leads the fractured party to the portal, their steeds pounding against the ground, trampling low shrubs as they race toward their goal. If the other knights could see Anastaz's face clearly, they would see his bloodshot eyes and blue veins snaking through his face, pale and tight from the cold and lack of sleep. At one point, the Salt Knight's steed shrieks as it cracks through a thin ice sheet and is doused with frigid water. But as the soft light of dawn begins to stain the once-night sky, the knights see songbirds wake up and begin their calls. And like that, the landscape is transformed with the threatening suggestion of spring.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Wolf’s laughter dies down awkwardly into an eerie silence as Milos slowly saunters out into the center of the clearing where the Rusalki are gathered. His left eye burns with lively fire as he surveys the host arrayed against him. The torches crackle as all await his response to Stribog’s jibe. But the Fox only turns his attention to the Wolf after an interminably elongated moment. “You teeter on a precipice. There are many in this very company that would rejoice to see you fail in this Hunt. They long for a fierce and cunning leader who can finally bring the spring. And she awaits in the wings, ready to pounce, when you falter.” He laughs now himself, showing strangely sharp teeth. “So tell me mighty Stribog, if I am such a lowly opponent, it should be no effort to vanquish me yourself. Thus I challenge you here to a duel to first blood.” He tilts his head playfully, daring him to accept.

Referee

The Wolf snarls and jumps of his three legged steed: “You are not the first to challenge me, Fox, and you won't be the last. If you win … “ he cackles at the absurdity of his words ” ...you'll be the lord of the western Rusalki. But if you lose … ” He draws a serrated blade and with it he turns slowly around, pointing at every single one of the Fae “... you will be consumed by them!” You can't see them clearly in the torchlight but you feel the bloodlust of the Hunt, twisted shapes in the shadows - half fae, half beast and the hounds run between them and bark and sniff the air.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris musters the falcons with a loud cry. He advises them not to fly too close, just enough to upset the horses and distract the hounds. “When you have their attention, fly away but let them follow for a while.” He then descends over the scene, taking advantage of the tension between Sir Milos and Striborg, and leads the falcons in a graceful but dangerous flight over the tired beasts.

Referee

The falcon's follow, hesitantly at first and then spurred on by Heldris battle cry, diving and swooping in, dodging Vesper's arrows and flying javelins, rising and diving again. Stribog howls in anger, unable just yet to fully engage with the Fox Knight's mirror image. From nearby branches the white ravens croak and take flight.

Milos, you maintain the glamour as long as you can but you feel the gold in your veins turn to poison and finally Stribog strikes and your cunning ploy is exposed. Osier has watched you all the while like a cat watching a mouse and when the weakness grips you he pulls you up onto the horse and he takes the reins and you flee through the night. “You got a taste of true sorcery. Tell me Fox: How did it feel?”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The falcons follow Heldris, gliding aggressively over the horses. A furious barking follows their flight as arrows hiss past them. One of the falcons flies too close and struggles to manoeuvrer between the low branches, a javelin finds its way to it. Another is shot down by a silver arrow from a jet black bow. The two remaining manage the spread some confusion among the beasts, and are called back by Heldris to follow Osier's call.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos wraps his arms tightly across Osier’s chest. The blood from his hand seeps into the boy’s tunic, just above his heart. “It was never power that tempted me, Avert.” The mad gallop of the grey mare suddenly slows preternaturally, its four hooves gracefully suspended above the snow covered plain. And a torrent of memories rushes through the open channel between the two riders. Delight and wonder at a first meeting in a grove of red and gold leaves. An encouraging hand on his shoulder. An intimate voice speaking softly into his ear. A multitude of moments of kindness, of support, of love, perhaps. A gentle kiss on the mouth, met with a soft “yes” in response. Then a disorienting shift as if the world were turning upside down. On his knees now, an icy hand grips his throat, hungry eyes look down upon him. “You will be mine now.” Milos pours all his emotions through the sympathetic bond he shares with Avert. Let’s the boy feel the cresting waves of stinging betrayal, of bitter helplessness, of sweet dreams turned to nightmares. “Do not make the mistakes I have made, Avert.” he says finally in a ragged whisper. And time resumes its normal pace, the four hooves striking the frozen ground in rapid unison.

Referee

Osier mumbles something and the shadow of a hawk rises from his silhouette and disappears into the night and then he is quiet for a long time while you ride over a mountain path with your arms around his chest. It is almost dawn when he finally speaks. “Maybe in time I can teach you the ways of the Fae, lest you be tricked by them again” Then he puts his hand over yours and squeezes them briefly. ” … and maybe you can teach me how to be human again.” But when you ride on he gently removes your hands. In the first light of the day you see three Knights at a small campfire resting between hills and three falcons circling overhead. Next to them a figure stands alone, wrapped in a winter coat, doubtfully observing his unlikely allies. The hills are covered in snow, cold and puffy like cotton and they extend to the horizon as if painted on the backcloth of a stage. There are signs of other seasons: tulips and poppies and marigold piercing the blanket of snow, red and bright, and with leaves of felt.