Libramentum

Chapter Four

Taliyah found Eleanor in the library again, working with a few books and pieces of parchment. The young woman was bright and cheerful, more so than Eleanor recalled. Placing her quill in the inkwell she arched a brow at her. 

“You’re rather chipper today,” she remarked, closing her druid book, not that Taliyah would be able to read it either way. “Have you started to look at those books I suggested? It’s important before I begin explaining healing to you. It requires a lot of research.”

Taliyah’s eyes were misty as she snapped her head in her cousin’s direction. “Oh, I glanced at them, but I haven’t had much time to really get into them,” she admitted.

“You did insist that you wanted me to teach you, but I cannot if you don’t accomplish what I asked,” Eleanor reminded her, a little sterner than she meant, but he day had been long and for Taliyah to not accomplish the simple task of reading, vexed her. She wanted to shake her cousin and ask her if she knew what perils they might face in the future, but she was just a girl who had no idea of the dangers they might face. As far as Taliyah was concerned, everything was at peace and there was little to worry about other than impressing possible suitors. 

Snapping out of her stupor, Taliyah’s face scrunched a bit. “I got distracted,” she collapsed in a chair, a wistful sigh expelling from her rosy lips. “Ser Erenford asked me to go on a walk with him today.”

She should have been more excited that her cousin was getting the attention that most ladies sought, but it now seemed so inferior and trivial. Eleanor tried to control her temper, reflecting upon what it might have been like if she were in Taliyah’s shoes. Repressing a sigh, she tried to shove the dark thoughts of how much time she had to learn as much possible and tried to become the lady she was supposed to be.

“And what happened? And who is Ser Erenford?” she recalled the name vaguely, a decent house, but she wasn’t familiar with the knights. Eleanor hadn’t gotten the time to dote on the knights and watch their sparring as often as other ladies. It wasn’t as if they had anything to do other than watch their day slip between their fingers.

“Ser Erenford is the eldest son of House Erenford. He’s a very handsome knight and excellent swordsman, one of the best. There have been a few knights I’ve kept an eye on, but I never thought he’d be interested in me, he’s about your age and good friends with Prince Luras. He asked me to walk with him through the gardens today and we had a wonderful conversation about… nothing important, but it felt…” she sighed again, sinking into her seat.

I didn’t take her for one to become instantly enamored, but why did I think different? She’s only 16, Eleanor thought. “It sounds like you had a good time, then. Did he ask to see you again?”

“Yes, he wants to see me tomorrow morning, perhaps we’ll go into town… Maybe you can ask Ser Hollyhock to come,” there was a nervous smile on her face.

She wants someone to be with her, whether it just be me… “Unfortunately, I’m busy until tomorrow afternoon. My mornings are reserved for my lessons and time in the infirmary. Maybe you can ask him to reschedule?”

“Oh, I don’t want to be a hassle. If you cannot make it, then I’ll just go…” she drawled. 

“I can send a servant to ask him to reconsider the time if you won’t,” Eleanor insisted. 

“No, no, no, don’t worry about it. Forget I even mentioned it.”

“I bet I could get Ser Athalos to go with you two if that would make you more comfortable.”

“That would be weird, it’s ok,” Taliyah decided firmly. “How are you feeling after…”

“Better, but now I’ve got a schedule and training I have to abide. Not that I mind, I wanted to train my skills anyways. Thank you for your concern and I wish you the best of luck with Ser Erenford tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Taliyah muttered meekly, her eyes dropped to her hands. 

“But you better start studying or you can forget about me teaching you,” Eleanor scolded lightly.

“I’ll get on it, I promise,” the young lady perked back up.

“We’ll see. Why don’t you open one of them up right now and begin? Although you seem to be in your own world right now,” Eleanor smirked, drawing a scowl from her cousin.

“I’m not a lovesick puppy,” the girl snapped as she retrieved one of the books from the list.

“I never said you were,” Eleanor said lightly as she continued to work from her druid book.

“You insinuated.”

“Did I?” she mused, her thoughts sinking further into the words in the book. 

“Some suitors were looking for you this morning,” Taliyah commented offhandedly.

“Let them keep looking,” she shrugged.

“You haven’t really been around court either. People have started noticing.”

“There’s a tourney coming up, I’ll be around when it matters. I have more important things to tend to,” she didn’t realize how harsh she sounded until she realized that tending court was all Taliyah did. Glancing up, her cousin’s eyes were glued to the pages of her book. 

“There’s so many knights and lords so interested in you, you might think to entertaining some of them. It doesn’t look good if you’re seen with Draqio more than noble men.”

Eleanor’s ears became hot with rage. “What does it matter if I am seen with Draqio? I’m not a normal lady, Taliyah, I have a duty to the realm as a mage. If they cannot understand that, perhaps they’re not a proper fit for me anyways.”

“Yes, but not even entertaining them starts rumors. They’re going to think you’re stuck up, they will not see it as plain as you explain it. Perhaps they’ll think you have a relationship with Draqio, even if you don’t, but resentment will build if you aren’t seen in public and don’t entertain some people. Most of what people think of you was that exchange in the courtyard.”

Eleanor hissed a sigh. “I’ve got too much work tonight to spend anything other than work. But I’ll make an attempt this week and maybe I’ll see if I can go out with you and Ser Erenford.”

Taliyah was contented by her words. 

The cousins continued their work into mid-afternoon before Eleanor sent a servant to have Ser Athalos meet her back at her suite. She could have used a nap, but she needed to accomplish the feat that Ilsmera had requested of her. She laid the fur and feathers out with labels and contemplated which she might attempt first. She knew that she couldn’t shapeshift without someone to supervise her and she didn’t want to injure her cousin. 

Ser Athalos arrived shortly after Eleanor had settled at her table with her notes and pages scattered. 

Opening the door, the knight looked just as weary as he had in the morning. “What is it, my lady?” he asked as she let him into her chambers.

“I’ve been instructed to learn new forms by Ilsmera everyday and I need assistance with it. Without someone to remind me who I am, it’s easy to lose myself in the magick,” she began explaining.

“Form?” Athalos echoed as he came to inspect the work she had laid out. “What a strange script. Can you read that?”

Eleanor nodded. “Yes, my magick… is much different than Ilsmera and I thought. I have the ability to shapeshift into animals, but I have to learn each form one at a time. I must warn you that I may not be myself and you’ll need to remind me. You might also need that,” her eyes slid down to the sword at his waist.

Athalos’ brows furrowed at her words. “Do you really predict you will lose control?”

“When I attempt a form, I do not have control. I am trying to obtain that control and once I get it, I can use the form at will.”

“Which are you attempting tonight?” he asked her as he looked at the samples of fur.

Eleanor had been contemplating it, almost all of the samples were of dangerous animals. She randomly selected one, trying to seem confident, as if she had put a lot of thought into it. She looked at the label and swallowed. “Dire wolf,” she announced.

Athalos glanced at the sample of fur and shrugged as he loosened his sword belt. “Very well, let’s get this underway,” he said.

Eleanor retreated behind her changing shade where she removed her clothing. She assumed that a larger form would destroy her dress, whereas the fox had simply been too small. Nude, she thumbed the dark fur before forcing it down. She struggled to get the fur off her tongue, quivering as she stood there. Drawing a deep breath, her thoughts went to changing form, her fingers tapping against her bare thigh as she closed her eyes. 

When she opened her eyes she felt queer. The air was strong with perfumes, interfering with her sense of direction. She could feel the roaring of the hearth from behind the shade. She padded out and saw the man objects that were scattered around. Sniffing the air, she sneezed, shaking her fur vigorously as she tried to regain her composure.

Her ears pricked when she heard something other than the crackling of the flames. Her eyes slid over to the man standing by the hot pools of water that reeked of strong aromas. His eyes widened and he reached for his sword.

Her lips peeled back in a snarl, baring large canines. His stance was threatening, but among all of herbal scents, she could smell his fear. She padded closer, her head reached his shoulder, he took a step back from her. Why was she in this room? How could she get out? 

“Eleanor,” he said firmly, but she prowled closer, her tail brushing the ground as she bunch her haunches. “Eleanor,” he repeated insistently.

She launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground. He seemed so small and puny, her massive paws pinning his arms to the ground. He couldn’t move, he didn’t try to. She leered down at him, snuffing at him before she snapped her jaws at him, open and shut. 

He wriggled one arm out from underneath her. She contemplated biting it, but he didn’t reach for his sword. If he did, she could have ripped his throat out. However, she was interested by how calm his face was. She could smell his fear and yet, his face did not show it. 

“Eleanor, who are you? This is not you. I heard of the work you did today in the infirmary. Who did you help today?” he asked her, he reached up with his free arm to touch her mane of fur.

She snapped at him defensively, snarling. He shouldn’t have done that. She could crush him, use her hind paws to disembowel him. Who did she help? She didn’t recall that? She helped? No, she needed to look after herself and her pack. Where was her pack? 

Her ears flattened on her head at the question. When she thought of her pack, she couldn’t think of other wolves. She only saw people. Faces flashed in front of her eyes, but none of them were wolves. Who am I? Am I not a wolf? She glanced down at him again and saw herself reflected in his stormy eyes. 

Athalos reached up again and ran his fingers through her fur. “Do you mind getting off of me? You’re quite heavy.”

She padded back, confused. She left the man on the ground and began pacing the room, sniffing at objects as she passed. She glanced back at him, ears flicking back and forth. Why did I do that? Why did I want to hurt him? She felt very ashamed by her compulsion.

“Eleanor?” the man said again.

She was sitting, her tail tucked before she bothered to look at him. “Have you calmed down now?”

Her ears pressed flat to her head as she dipped her head apologetically. She opened her mouth to speak, but an air of low baying escaped her muzzle instead.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he still approached her tentatively. “I didn’t know you could do this. I haven’t heard of any mage who can shapeshift,” his fingers ran over the top of her head, burying in her chestnut fur. “You’ll be able to charge into battle and tend casualties on the battlefield. I already feel much better knowing that you can defend yourself.”

Eleanor answered with more yips and murmurs. She slunk off, her form lowered as she slipped into the bathing area, displacing a good amount of water due to her large size. Submerging herself, when she broke through the surface again, she gasped with human lips. She ran her fingers across her face, trying to shake the rage and aggression she had felt in that form. Where the fox had been inquisitive and tentative, the dire wolf had frightened her by how much the emotions were heightened. 

“Sorry,” she grumbled, slinking low in the water. “I never know what it’s going to be like and the wolf was more difficult than I thought. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Might have bruised my shoulder a bit, but other than that I’m unscathed.”

“I truly am sorry. The wolf form is more useful, but it’s also more dangerous. I can lose myself to instinct, forget who I am in the blink of an eye, and then hurt someone and I’ve already sworn that I don’t ever want to inflict harm on anyone. My talent is in healing, these forms are just measures to access people.”

“And what if someone you care about gets hurt? What if you’re cornered and you have to fight? These forms are not just for travel. A dire wolf will strike fear in people, especially one who has the intelligence of a human. Imagine what you could achieve.”

“No, I don’t want to. Not now,” she grumbled, sinking lower into the water. What was the point of these forms if she didn’t use them? She had already been predisposed to destruction, she had nearly harmed Athalos. How hard would it be to hurt those they faced? She knew what to go for, throats and bellies were the weak spots. If she could keep her head clear, she could use her medical knowledge to be even more potent. For so long, she had thought her knowledge would only be used to heal, but she could see how it could be used to harm and it unsettled her. 

“You may not have a choice,” Athalos told her bluntly.

Eleanor opened her eyes and turned to look at him. Her body was still hidden within the misty waters, but when their eyes locked, she saw how serious he was. He only kept her gaze for a moment before averting them for her own modesty.

“I keep putting you in uncomfortable situations, don’t I?” she sighed, reaching for some soap to wash with. 

“I know many who would envy such a position. But I must admit, I’m somewhat intimidated by you, my lady. Before it was just your prowess, but after tonight, I realize that you could have killed me had you lost control. I have never felt threatened by anyone until this point.”

Her stomach knotted at his words. She had hoped that he wouldn’t think of her differently, but what he said confirmed her fear. I’m monstrous, she thought. Before I was just a healer, now I’m an unpredictable beast. What if people start fearing me like they fear Ilsmera? 

She didn’t want to be lonely, she had felt the strife of being a wolf without a pack, but his words crushed her. “Please don’t fear me,” her voice was weak and shrill. 

“I do not fear you,” he had taken a step toward her. “But you have to understand, I haven’t met a woman other than Ilsmera who could kill me easily.”

“I don’t want people to fear me.” I want them to love me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want to heal them and make them love me, but this shapeshifting is ruining it. What will everything think when they learn of what I really am?

“Whether or not you can turn into animals, people will fear what they cannot understand. You are a mage and people do not understand magick. I don’t understand magick, but what I have learned of you, you’re a compassionate person. I knew you wouldn’t harm me.”

“No you didn’t. I thought about ripping your throat out if you reached for your sword,” Eleanor told him in a small voice. 

“But you didn’t,” he insisted. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t reach for your sword. It was all chance and I don’t like leaving things to chance. I study hard to avoid chance. I like control and yet it’s slipping through my fingers when I shapeshift.”

“Control comes with time. You have control of your healing powers, the other powers will take time. It’s like fighting. You can be a talented swordsman, but pick up a bow and you will probably be a poor shot until you practice for hours. If you’re afraid of the bow, you’ll jerk after firing and your aim will be off.”

“That’s easy to say in theory when practicing a bow doesn’t usually end in an acquaintance’s throat being ripped out. I have more to lose than just an arrow in a target.”

Silence hung between them. Eleanor was convinced that shapeshifting was dangerous and the risks greatly outweighed the benefits. Perhaps she shouldn’t have bothered with such destructive forms and only with ones that could be used for transportation, such as birds and other small game. She didn’t worry about the fox form, but the dire wolf had terrified her. What about the bear? What about the night sabre? She expected those to be just as wild and unruly, but thrice as terrible. The bear was huge and the night sabre was a solitary hunter with claws that could shear steel like butter. 

She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “What do you know about Ser Erenford?” Eleanor asked, shifting the subject.

Athalos had taken a seat by the hearth, his back to her. “Ser Erenford?” he repeated, releasing a sigh. “One of my fellow knights, but not someone I would trust on the battlefield. Some knights are what Lucan and I call ‘Court Chevaliers’. They put on a good show in front of the ladies they want to impress, bed them, and drop them to find another. They have little experience outside of the court, but talk up a storm that’d make you think they’re battle hardened, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Ser Erenford is one of the Court Chevaliers, obsessed with his own self image. He’s often found with Prince Luras, which says enough on its own. Why do you ask? Did you meet him?”

Eleanor already didn’t like the sound of this knight. “No, my cousin Lady Taliyah is now of his interest. I wanted to know more about the man who is courting her. She’s young and foolish and I don’t want to see her get hurt,” she felt like a mother hen clucking about Taliyah, but this knight was of a house she wasn’t familiar with. 

“I can keep an eye on them. I wouldn’t trust his intent, he’s bedded quite a few ladies in the court and from what I assume, your cousin is looking for something more?”

“I don’t think she’d be stupid enough to sleep with him without being married or betrothed, but I can’t say, love makes you do foolish things,” she paused, thinking back on what else he had mentioned. “You mentioned Prince Luras, what did you mean by that?”

“My younger cousin is not even a shadow of his father or brother. I don’t know if it’s because the queen babied him or he felt there was no need to try as hard, but he’s a spoiled brat. He gets what he wants and when he doesn’t he throws a fit. Those who are his ‘friends’ are the ones who are just as arrogant and impassive as he. They parade around the court and bully others into submission. I’d beware of any of his invitations, he doesn’t like to be told no.”

Eleanor recalled her first exchange with Luras. When the queen had mentioned that his brother would get to spend time with her, the prince had sulked. She hadn’t thought he was anything more than forthcoming, but she could see that he might have been being aggressive. “I did notice there was something… off about him, but I had thought it might have been me.”

“No, it’s not and he’s interested in you if Lucan is not. He’s never going to get the throne, even if Lucan were to die. Braeden would never allow it, he knows that Luras is soft and unsuited for the role. If he gets you, I expect he’ll think his father will respect him more, but unless he sets himself straight and actually attempts to be in the field with the men in the family, Braeden shall never take him seriously. Lucan has been working with the military since before he was a man grown and Luras has always preferred his lofty position in the court where people adore him.”

“Do people not adore Lucan?”

“People adore the queen, because they see her. They see Luras and so they favor him. Most nobles do not like Lucan because he’s never around, but he’s done more for the realm than his mother or brother. Lucan also does not talk to many people other than those he needs to associate with, which ruffles the feathers of many people who envision themselves important enough occupy what little time he does have.”

Her mind set on Taliyah, hoping that the girl would be safe tomorrow morning on her trip with Ser Erenford. They had only started talking, so it should be innocent enough, but she couldn’t shake what Athalos had shared with her. If he hurt her, what would she do? She could feel the emotions swirling within her, the rage of the wolf. If he harmed a hair on her head, there would be blood to pay.

What am I thinking? She thought, shaking the violent thoughts away. 

“And what about Ser Oakheart?” 

“Ser Merek Oakheart? The one you healed today?”

“You heard of that?”

“Yes, I was in the courtyard when the lance shattered. He was a fool jousting without proper gear on.”

“I said the same, it could have been avoided.”

“The ladies seem to like him, he’s a bit foolhardy and not to mention, takes risks when he shouldn’t. However, he’s a good strategist. Lucan likes to have him with the military from time to time to pick his brain about tactics. He’s an exceptional archer, the best I know. Better with a bow and dagger than a sword and shield. He’s fast and a good hunter. He specializes in training scouting units and reconnaissance. It would have been a shame if he died today, although not entirely unexpected, he gets himself into trouble quite often,” Athalos sighed, shaking his head. 

“I might have taken him for one of the Court Chevaliers.”

“No, there are a few groups in court. He tends to surround himself with younger knights, but he teaches them. He’s not a bad person, but he is notorious for causing trouble. Honestly, in court he doesn’t have anyone telling him what to do, but when he’s in the field and has the prince giving him orders, it’s like night and day.”

Eleanor could see it, just by the brash way the man had spoken. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of that one, whether or not it’ll be in the infirmary or around the castle.”

“He’s one of the better ones,” the chair scraped underneath him as he stood. “Do you have any further need of me, my lady?”

Eleanor glanced back at him, catching his eyes for a brief moment. She caught him staring, her mind shifting back to what he had said. She was the only woman who intimidated him other than Ilsmera. She was the one who broke contact, her face burning at the thought. If someone who was getting to know her was intimidated by her, what about the people who didn’t know her? Draqio’s word returned to her and she sunk further into the hot spring water.

“No, that’s it for tonight. I’m trying to learn a form a day, so perhaps this will become ritual until I’ve accumulated enough forms,” she informed him. 

“Have a good evening, don’t be afraid to summon me if you need anything more, my lady,” he told her before exiting the manse.

Eleanor only slunk lower into the bath, making bubbles with her mouth once she was alone. What was she doing? Was she more mage than lady? She was constantly indecent in front of Ser Athalos and despite it, she couldn’t read him. He’d complimented her in the morning, but now he was impassive. She began washing her hair as she tried to decipher what he had told her. She had smelled the fear on him, despite him speaking contrary to it. She might have favored him, but her relationship situation was seemingly hopeless compared to her cousin. He saw her as an ally and now he had less to worry about, seeing that she had the ability to defend herself. 

She reached for the linens to dry herself, wondering what the morrow might bring.

Eleanor found it hard to sleep that evening, her dreams plagued by images of her goring people with tooth and claw. Her unrest was met by an early breakfast and the beginning of another day of training. Draqio, knowing that she could shapeshift now, worked her much harder than he had previously. In some ways, she felt stronger than she had before. Her legs churned without unrest and her senses were heightened. She wondered if this new endurance she had was due to the forms she had learned. But running wasn’t all he worked her in. He had her do numerous exercises and tumbling maneuvers. Her body was sluggish when she returned to her room, the sun filtering in through her windows. 

A couple more dresses had been dropped off, though they wouldn’t get much admiration where she was going. Ilsmera was impressed with the form she had learned, along with the time that Eleanor had put into her research. They worked on wards and Ilsmera made mention of continuing to work on the enchantments for her clothing. 

The infirmary was quiet that morning and Wendell was eager to introduce her to more of the regulars who inhabited the cots. She learned more of his regiment and how he preferred things were done and recorded. She knew her true power was in dealing with the emergency patients, but he still wanted to assess her otherwise with clinical ailments and tests. She actually found herself at peace, working with the healer and helping people, even if it didn’t require her magick. The smiles that she brought, the ease of pain from their faces, how gracious many were. The reward of healing took away the sting of the destructive magic she had been plagued by all night.

Eleanor had all but forgotten about her cousin until she grabbed herself some lunch. She had half a day ahead of her, though her mind dwelt on her studies and what form she would attempt that evening. Out in the courtyard, she didn’t spot Taliyah and wondered if the girl was still out in the city with her Court Chevalier.

Observing those who trained at mid afternoon, she tried to decide which were as Athalos as dubbed ‘Court Chevaliers’. It was a bit warm and many ladies relinquished to the cooler halls of the castle or some shade so they could watch the men they favored. The dress she donned was a bit stifling, a brilliant emerald gown that had a sweetheart neckline that plummeted in the middle once again. The bodice was fitted against her slender form, her shoulders were bare, the long sleeves loose and dagged so she could tuck her arms into them. The skirt flared out slightly, but the dreaded thing was heavy. It had a golden girdle that was magnificently etched and wrought, sitting on top of her hips. The orca of the Blacktydes was caught within the golden waves, tiny diamond eyes winking in the light. The emerald gown had some embroidery in gold and other in green for simple detail, so that the most intriguing piece was the armor accessory. 

Today was the first day she had made any attempt to keep up appearances, but Taliyah was right. She had to make certain that she was seen or else people might think her stuck up, even if she really didn’t want to mingle with them. Many men were preparing for the upcoming tourney, knights arriving with each day for the chance at glory. 

Eleanor watched from a distance. She didn’t know any of the ladies and wasn’t certain of how to introduce herself. Without Taliyah, she felt that she might make a mistake if she approached them. So she watched some of the knights with swords before continuing through the yard. She found herself in a quieter area, where some were training their skills in archery. For the tourney, there would be several trials, some of which the king or queen would denign. However, swords play, jousting, and archery were always the three certain tasks. 

She was a bit disappointed that she didn’t spot the golden knight among the lanes. After what Athalos had told her, she wanted to see how good of a shot he truly was. 

“My Lady Blacktyde-” she whirled around, but the voice was wrong. It was not Ser Oakheart that stood behind her, but a pair of knights she did not know. Then again, she didn’t know many people. It was probably her biggest weakness in the capitol.

“Yes?” she prompted, glancing at the sigils on their training jerkins. 

One man, barrel chest and stout, bore the sigil of pale blue water with green reeds sprouting. She recognized the river crest of house Wendwater.

The other man had long wheat colored hair and was a head taller than his companion. His sigil was that of a golden plain with a rearing brown stallion. 

“I am Ser Bryce Ferren and this is my companion Ser Lief Wendwater,” the long haired man introduced politely. “How are you liking the capitol thus far?”

Small talk, not so bad I suppose. “I haven’t had the chance to do much, but I have enjoyed some of the choice food and wine the city has to offer. I’m afraid I’ve had work to tend to.”

“A lady as fair as yourself shouldn’t bother herself with work,” Ser Bryce waved dismissively.

“I might agree if I weren’t a mage and had my own duties to the Crown,” she retorted evenly. 

“How does your lord father fare?” Ser Lief asked, changing the subject. His voice was deep and gruff, just as ragged as his appearance. 

The Wendwaters were bannermen of the Blacktydes. They lived further inland, along the Narrow River that emptied out into the ocean by her family’s keep. The Wendwaters controlled the river, while the Blacktydes controlled the ocean. She couldn’t recall meeting this knight, but she had met Lord Wendwater before, as he came to his annual summoning.

“He is doing well, still spry and ready to man a ship whenever needed. The years have been kind to him,” she told him. She wondered what the two of them wanted. From what she could see, they were men of lesser houses. What did they think they could get from her that elicited this conversation? 

“Oh, Lady Eleanor!” this voice she recognized as the golden man sidled into view, throwing his arms around the shoulders of the two knights she had been speaking with. 

His friends? I suppose that makes more sense. Perhaps they stopped me to delay me from leaving, she thought as she scrutinized Ser Oakheart. “You seem to be feeling a deal better,” she observed.

“With all thanks to you,” he grinned. 

“I don’t recall either of you being with Ser Oakheart yesterday,” Eleanor commented.

“I wouldn’t have jousted without proper armor,” Ser Ferren scowled, glancing at his friend who hung from his tall shoulder. “You’re an i***t, you know that?”

“I get told that quite often, so yes, I did know that,” Merek agreed before releasing the knights from his grip. “And please, my lady, Ser Merek or just Merek will do. I hate being so formal.”

“We’re in a formal place, are we not?”

Merek shrugged his broad shoulders. “In a manner of speaking, but you’re not a typical lady. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot of you outside of this castle.”

Eleanor couldn’t help but chortle at him. Athalos had truly hit the nail on the head with this man. What did other ladies see in him aside from a handsome face? Courage? Charm? He was rather refreshing, but he wasn’t cordial in the slightest. 

“We wanted to thank you, my lady,” Lief told her. “We left him unsupervised yesterday and now you know the repercussions of letting him off with knights who don’t know how stupid he can be.”

"They were no true friends, such as yourselves," Merek insisted. "Just a pair of knights who were also looking to practice. I suppose that is one of the many mistakes I made yesterday."

A distant shouting drew everyone's attention. The portcullis had been lowered and there was a frenzied expression on the guards who were relaying messages. Their little group that had formed gave each other sidelong glances before heading toward the crowd that was gathering, trying to overhear what the commotion was about.

Orders were being shouted and at the helm she saw that Ser Athalos was there, demanded that his horse be saddle. 

"There's been an attack in the port, we need men mounted and ready to fight as soon as possible," he said raising his voice above the clamor. Whispers turned to panicked chatter and some of the ladies back away, paling at the mention of battle.

Has it already begun? Eleanor wondered silently, standing beside the trio of knights who tensed at Athalos' orders. She realized then that the Hollyhock was not just cousin to the royal children, but he acted as the commander of the knights in the stead of the king and Crown prince. 

"Donn your armor as swiftly as possible. The city's watch is in dire need of reinforcements," Athalos commanded as his squire was buckling his breastplate into place. He adjusted his sword belt, dark eyes sweeping over the crowd of knights, assorted from green to seasoned. The prospect of the tourney had brought many vying for glory, but none knew of the impending danger that stalked them. 

"My lady, this is where we part. Hopefully, I will not end back up in the infirmary after this battle," Ser Merek told her, the other two knights already vanished to prepare swiftly.

"Let me ride with you, I can help," Eleanor insisted. A need fastened itself in her chest. She had to go and see what it was. The vision was still crystal clear in her mind's eye. The spectre elf haunted her and she needed to know if it was the wraiths that had come or some other devilish fiend. She also needed to give Ilsmera a first hand account of the attack. 

"No, my lady. You are a healer, your place is here," he told her.

Eleanor wanted to scream at him, her blood rushing, pounding in her ears at the anticipation of battle. "I can hold my own," she growled, but the knight had already decided she was too much of an asset to risk taking into the streets.

He's not going to take me, why would he? He doesn't know... Her eyes sought for Athalos, but he disappeared in the crowd of men mounting horses. She couldn't shapeshift here and nor would either of her forms be inconspicuous. Wishing she had chosen the golden eagle rather than the dire wolf, she stormed off, her mind racing as she tried to develop a solution. Her eyes found the aviary tower, her legs suddenly churning beneath her. She started at a trot before she hiked up her skirts and was bolting for the spire.

The aviary tower was the most weathered and least maintained area of the castle. It looked more like a granary silo than part of the castle. Nobles never bothered themselves with occupying such a dirty place, only servants who knew how to send the falcons off would ever go up. 

Eleanor flung the door open, spooking some of the birds that were resting within their cages. Different raptors were used for various methods of messages. Peregrine falcons were by far the most common, they were swift and could carry small messages. However, many of those who favored falconry also let their prized beasts roost among their brethren. 

The closest bird that was preening was a marsh harrier. Collecting some of the fallen, downy feathers that it had plucked off, Eleanor shoved them into her mouth. Where the canine fur had been tacky, the feathers nearly made her vomit. Her hand scrabbled against the stone wall as she dry heaved. Covering her mouth, she forced herself to keep the feathers down. 

As much as she adored her new dress, she couldn't take it with her. With the aviary empty aside from the feathered onlookers, Eleanor discarded it in the corner, beneath one of the cages that had a velvet drape, so that it was hidden from view. Her thoughts focused on the form of the harrier, desperation fueling the magick.

Eleanor fluttered her wings, leaping up to the window sill. Her vision was keen and sharp, she could see that the knights were departing through the gate. It was secured behind them, coming to a clattering close. She found that through her adrenaline rush and the intellect of the bird, that she did not lose sense of who she was. 

Flinging herself out the window, she spread her wings, gliding down from the tower and  over Goldenhour's walls. She caught up with the mounted knights and followed them from height, circling around when she found herself listing ahead. The city was filled with people fleeing the port, running up toward the castle or into their homes. Shutters were bolted and the cries were audible from where she flew.

The madness erupted when the knights broke out into the fishing district. Bodies littered the ground, city watch and civilians alike. Those who had not yet had the chance to flee or were cut off, cowering in corners and behind stalls. The stench of blood was overwhelmed by the stink of fish and s**t. Some of the merchant vessels docked were aflame, sending smoke billowing in her direction. 

The black cloaks of the city guard were visible among the tangle of people. Through the thicket, she finally espied the culprits behind the attack. It was not the wraiths from her dreams, but tall humanoids that stood two heads taller than even her father. Their skin was peat green, stretched across rippling muscles. Their chests were barren, some donning leather pieces of armor. Lipless mouths grinned at their opponents, large canines protruding prominently. Their faces were hidden by helms that encased their heads in white bonelike material, only their mouth, jawline, and hair that sprouted out in coarse plumes were visible. They hoisted an ensemble of black, wicked weapons that cleaved through steel and flesh like knives through cheese.

She saw the fear in the whites of people's eyes, their screaming echoing in her ears as she circled above like a carrion. Their bleating tore at her heart as she saw blood soaking the cobblestones she had only just rode in on a few days prior. She wanted to save them, fly down and heal their ailments, but there were too many and she had to reserve her power for those more important. 

The weakened forces of the city guard rallied at the sight of the knights. They did not see what Eleanor did, her sharp vision finding that some knights were edging their steeds backward, fear of their foe overcoming them. She let out a cry, but it was not human and no one heeded her in the din of metal and screams. 

Her eyes picked out the chestnut mare that Ser Athalos had mounted. He raised his sword, giving the command to charge. They ran down the first wave of monsters, their charge cutting down the first line and allowing the city guards to drag their wounded away from the fighting. When the knights rounded, the next rank of monsters was prepared for their assault. 

Some knights were torn down from their horses, the behemoths nearly as tall as men were when mounted. Horses howled in pain as they were taken by the wicked blades in the chest, the light fading from their eyes. The advantage that the small cavalry once had vanished within the smoke as reinforcements for the creatures arrived. More city guards came flooding in, cutting off the retreat. The longship of the foes was put to the torch, but despite being outnumbered, the fiends continued to hack and fight as if renewed with vigor.

We're losing too many, she thought, noticing that the knights were being divided. It took at least three men to slay one demon, but there were some men who were facing them alone. She spotted one knight who was separated, the water to his back. She recognized the sigil on his breastplate. If he was forced back another step he'd either be speared or fall into the water, both of which were death sentences. A man in full armor would sink, not float.

Her instincts seized her rather than her morals and intellect. She tucked her wings and dove toward the ground, changing form midair. She whirled forward, momentum sending her sailing into the fiend. She knocked it to the ground, her own size comparable as she raked her claws into his verdant flesh. Her jaw snapped closed on his throat, warmth oozing between her teeth, lolling on her tongue as she tore it out. It didn't have any moment to react, black blood gushing from its throat as she spat out the chunk of flesh. 

The fox helmed knight stared at her as she growled, orange eyes alight like the fires raging around them. After a moment, he gave her a gracious nod and went to aid the other knights in peril. She loped forward, ears twitching as she heard the singing of metal against metal. She picked her next target, seeking the knights that had the least amount of support or were being pushed back.

Darting forward she tore the hamstring out of one of the creatures, allowing for the knight in front of him to drive his sword into its bare chest. She bolted between the fighting, slinking low against the ground. She found the source of the most trouble and bowled another beast down gouging the flesh from his back like a carver whittled wood. It's screams drew the attention of its allies, though it was soon put out of its misery with her jerking its head around in her mouth until his spine snapped. 

Some of them gave her eyeless stares before one of them screeched, "Druid! Druid!" It's hollering drew in the rallying echoes of its fellows. "Druid!" "Flame eyes!" "Elf magick!" "Kill it!" But with only a dozen left, even their charge toward her was thwarted. 

She drilled forward like lightning, her paws barely creating more than a soft patter as she launched herself at another, savaging it. The knights cut off the last of their foes and cut them down until the crimson streets were intermingled with their obsidian blood. 

Eleanor raised her muzzle as she tasted the air, but only the acrid taste of the monster blood soaked her tongue. She smelled only smoke and could not differentiate between the other scents around her. The brutal rage that had drove her faded and she finally could observe the c*****e that surrounded her. How many had she killed? She had sworn never to harm, but did this beasts count? They needed her help, it was worse to turn a blind eye than to help. 

The knights gave her tentative glances, uncertain of what to make of her, the dire wolf that had materialized out of nowhere to help slay their enemies. Her ears picked up some of their chatter. "Is it a familiar of the sorceress?" some wondered.

"My lady," she craned her head to see the fox knight approaching. Removing his helm, Athalos' armor was stained with dark blood. "Why did you come here?" he asked her.

Her ears flattened against her head at the question, though she could not provide him with an answer other than a low, gruff bark. 

"Are you uninjured?"

Eleanor hadn't thought to even check herself. Her fur was soaked with blood, but she didn't not believe any of it to be her own. She gave him a stout nod, standing again so that she could flank him as he headed toward the other knights who were recuperating from their battle.

She noticed a limp in his gait, awarding him with chastising bay. She nudged her broad shoulders under his arm, lending him her support. His horse was gone, either spooked or among those that were dead in the street.

"Ferren, how many did we lose?" he asked, shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

"A handful, but most of the casualties were horses and city guards," the knight had helm with a plume of horse hair cascading down his back. His face in intricate steel knots as he glanced dubiously at her. 

The question of what these creatures were hung heavy in the air. 

"I want all these bodies except for one burned. The other I want bagged and transported to the sorceress for observation. And be certain that none of it is visible, I do not want people knowing what we've brought into the keep. As for the rest of the port, I will see to it being shut down for now. The cove's gate needs to be drawn until further notice. The rest of you can returned once you have gathered our injured and dead. Ser Oakheart, with me," he ordered sternly, turning away from the group.

The golden knight sidled forward in light scaled steel that was tinged royal blue. He hoisted his longbow across his shoulder and gave her a sly glance before directing his attention to Athalos. 

"Please escort Lady Blacktyde back onto the castle grounds. I doubt the guards will let a dire wolf through the gates," he requested, pulling his weight off of her. 

Eleanor protested with some low noises, nudging his leg. He placed a hand on her head and shoved her back a bit. 

"I'll be fine, I can visit the infirmary later, after those injured worse are seen to. You'll be needed there and my duty is here," Athalos scowled.

Eleanor snarled at him, but did not argue further. He was right, she needed to get back and dressed as soon as possible. 

"Lady Blacktyde?" Merek echoed his eyes locking with hers for a moment. It took a few seconds before his icy eyes recognized her orange ones. "Can she not shapeshift once she gets back to the gate? I can be of more aid here-"

"I do not need it and Lady Blacktyde cannot shapeshift without being indecent. You wouldn't force her into such a predicament, would you?" he asked.

Eleanor's form wavered as she took the harrier's shape again. Merek balked at her and Athalos only gave her an apprehensive stare.

"So that is how you got here unnoticed, I was wondering... Nevermind, with me Oakheart," he ushered the other knight in front of him, who was turning his neck around trying to stare opened mouthed at her. "Go back to the castle, that's an order, my lady."

A shrill trill resounded from her beak as she flapped her wings and pushed herself into the sky. The rest of the city was still boarded up, black cloaks patrolling the streets to be certain that none of the creatures had slipped into the alleys. She pressed further ahead, returning to the aviary. Even the castle courtyard was empty of ladies, meaning they had likely been sealed away within the Inner Sanctum to keep safe.

Clinging to her perch on window sill, she glanced around the tower to be certain there was no one to see her. She hopped down and reverted to human, scooping her dress up and sliding it back on hastily. Her skin and hair was caked with the black blood, soaking into the beautiful emerald fabric, ruining it. 

She didn't have any time to fuss about her ruined attire as she descended the spire and bolted toward the hospital wing. As she was washing her hands and pinning her filthy hair out of the way, she heard the incoming shouting and call for aid from nurses and men alike. 

Eleanor burst into the infirmary which now hosted several injured knights. Nurses in green were assessing wounds and a few other white robes were rushing around the room, trying to decide which man needed the most aid first.

Wendell spotted her, his brow furrowing as he clamped down on a wound that was bleeding. "Were you at the battle?" he asked incredulously. 

Eleanor nodded mutely, coming beside him, pressing her fingers into the wound. With so many shrieking and complaining of pain, she could not fully heal any of them without sapping her strength. She had to repair the worst injuries to a point where they could be managed with bindings and normal methods of healing. 

The gash spread down the knight's hip to his calf. A tourniquet had been applied, but the blood had still poured out from above his leg. His skin was pale and he was delirious. 

"I don't want to lose my leg," he whimpered, fading in and out of consciousness. 

"Hush now, you won't," Eleanor promised gently as she finished assessing the ragged wound. The dark blades of their foes did not make clean cuts and there would be a wicked scar lancing across the knight, but he would live. 

Starting with the arteries she reconnected those that were spliced. She knitted back what muscle she could, so that the knight would regain full movement, but she could not seal the rest of the injury without consuming too much energy. 

"Dress the wound with poultice and bandages. He will heal fine within a few weeks time. Who is in need of my aid next?" she asked Wendell as the nurses took over. 

The only man who needed dire attention was a man who had his chest nearly opened by a sword. Fortunately, his breastplate had taken the brunt of the attack and aside from the blood, it was a wound that required reforging of his veins and flesh. Other injuries included broken bones, which she knew she couldn't tend to, as it took too much time and sucked at her power. She repaired smaller gashes and superficial wounds, eventually restorting to helping place knights with broken bones in splint and administering milk of the poppy to ease the worst of them into sleep.

"What happened out there?" Wendell asked her once they had a moment to breathe.

"I-" she paused, wondering if she even had leave to speak of what had occurred. The knights would tell him eventually. "Raiders from a longship... but they weren't human. I don't really know what they were. They were huge... it took at least three knights to take one of them down."

"What were you doing out there? You could have been hurt," Wendell frowned.

"I have talents of my own that aided in their defeat. We might have lost more if it had not been for me," she retorted defensively. The thought of the battle made her shudder. The overwhelming sense of instinct overcame her ideal to strive for pacifism. The rage of the wolf had filled her and she had leapt at the chance to fill her mouth with their blood. She had enjoyed it.

Eleanor felt her stomach heave upwards. She clung to the wall, emptying the contents of her stomach on the floor unceremoniously. Wendell reached for her, but she motioned away. "S-sorry, I'll clean that up. I just... I've never killed anything in my life before, monster or not-" her throat filled with bile again.

"Sit down, sit down," the healer found a chair and put her in it. He returned with a damp rag, placing it on her forehead. "Once you are feeling well enough, you should return to your chambers and rest. It's likely you're exhausted from your endeavors today."

Eleanor relaxed for a few moments, but she found herself uneasy. She stood and retreated from the infirmary. The castle was stirring with people who were trying to figure out what was going on. Chatter had already spread about the monsters in the port. A few people gave her strange stares as she passed, their eyes picking apart her ruined attire as she slunk toward the Inner Sanctum and her chambers. Exhaustion seeped into her bones and it was all she could do to peel her clothing off and slither into the bathing area. 

She scrubbed her skin raw, trying to erase all trace of the blood that had soaked her. Images flashed in front of her eyes, the gushing obsidian liquid, how the flesh felt against her tongue, the sound of their dying gasps, drowning in their own life's blood. 

Eleanor swung around and knocked several of the bath salts into the water in fury. She should have stayed in the castle like Merek told her. Would Athalos have returned if she didn't? 

A whimper escaped her lips as she crawled out of the bath and into bed, blubbering like a babe. All she had wanted to be had vanished within the blink of an eye. It had been soiled by what she was becoming and the new powers she had started to harness. Was it better to sideline herself and watch people die? Or save them and kill others in the process?

Eleanor wept herself to sleep, still soaked from the bath she had taken.