I followed the Briar knight into the woods. His macabre steed moved at a slow, steady pace, allowing me to keep up on foot. He didn't speak, or so much as acknowledge me.

I wasn't certain I could keep my measure traveling with that creature for days or weeks to wherever he intended to lead me. He reeked of sewage and rotting plant matter.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a time, breaking the night's silence.

"To a meeting," the dark faerie said. The knight remained silent.

"And how far must we travel for that?" I asked.

"Not far."

The Briar elf's voice didn't match its appearance at all. It looked like a demon's corpse, but spoke like a sweet-tempered youth.

I decided it wasn't worth pressing the nightmarish cavalier or his companion for information and followed in silence, still wary of treachery. I hadn't faced the Briar so long as many of my fellow Alder Knights, and hadn't learned to hate them to the same degree, but it still felt strange to deal with one without immediate violence.

They'd been the Enemy, for many long and bitter generations. Indeed, they'd taken advantage of the Fall, but they hadn't perpetrated it. Still, the idea that the Choir might be willing to make peace with these sat uneasy on me. Surely they knew that Nath would claw for every advantage she could get?

Another thought struck me then — had Nath sent this fallen chevalier as some sort of message, or grim jest? A warped mirror of what I'd once been, and a potential future for me if I kept tiptoeing along the lefthand path? It seemed to fit her sense of irony.

We walked for an hour, then two. The night aged, and a few scattered clouds began to crawl across the starry sky. The woods held an eerie silence. I could see ghost-lights in the distance, but unlike normal they didn't approach, as though repelled by the foul company I traveled with.

Eventually we stopped at an old crossroads, one I recognized as being near the edge of the haunted woods surrounding the Fane. There were villages not far, little more than small hamlets dotting the countryside. Most of our food and supplies came from them, usually collected by the spiders in the guise of common travelers.

"Prepare," the Briar Brother rasped. "They approach."

I frowned, peering into the night's gloom. "Who approaches?" I asked.

"My lady's client," the Sidhe sang.

Client. The warlock. I narrowed my eyes, inwardly steeling myself.

Before long, I heard an odd sound. Wheels, I realized. The sound grew louder, along with the noise of clopping hooves. The light of several lanterns appeared in the distant woods. Those lights, as they drew near, revealed themselves to be attached to a black coach. The vehicle soon stopped in front of us.

It had aristocrat written all over it — smooth ebony wood caged in a frame of silver worked into the shape of spear-wielding riders and horned hawks chasing kynedeer and direwolves. The rider wore all black, their features obscured by an almost comically large tricorn and a billowing coat.

The two beasts who pulled the coach were a breed of chimera I didn't recognize. Many noble houses kept their own unique stocks, guarding them jealously. Usually only the richest ones. They looked close to the classic horse, only with a distinctly avian bent. Their limbs ended in iron-shod hooves, their tails clipped to short nubs, their hides covered in a mix of coarse gray fur and brown feathers, wings folded at their side.

They reminded me of griffons, a classic form of chimeric beast. I'd seen real griffons though, and these weren't quite so big. Their heads were more like crows than eagles, with straight black beaks. The beaks, like the hooves, were clad in iron.

The rider watched us through the shadow of their hat and a cloth mask pulled up to their nose, though I caught the glint of green eyes. Those eyes studied me a moment before the rider dismounted and moved to the carriage door, opening it and extending a hand to help the one inside step down.

I hadn't expected this. Part of me had anticipated that I'd be taken to some audience where this mysterious warlock would have all the advantage of home ground. Some haunted manor or dark castle. Them coming to meet me caught me off guard.

It wasn't the only thing that caught me off guard.

I watched that second figure as they alighted easily on the woodland road on black leather boots. I had to stop my eyes from widening in shock.

The girl couldn't have been older than seventeen. She was long limbed and slim, with hair such a dark brown it was nearly black tied into an economical braid. She wore an ensemble which evoked both aristocratic arrogance and an almost militant practicality — trousers rather than a dress, with knee-high boots and a doublet, all of it in shades of black and red. A sword hung at her right hip, a half-cape from one shoulder. She studied me with intense amber eyes.

Her height, outfit, and conservative hairstyle made her seem more mature, yet she was young. Barely more than a child. Could this really be Nath's acolyte? Perhaps it was a servant, here to take me to her master.

"This is him?" The girl's voice had a controlled quality, clipped and confident, sharp with aristocratic inflection. "Lady Nath's proxy?"

I wore my red cloak wrapped about my lower face, the pointed cowl up. Like the black-clad driver, my features would be cast in shadow, especially in the pale light of the moons. I doubted she'd be able to see more distinguishing features than my broad frame and height.

The Briar Brother nodded. "It is."

Again the girl studied me. I looked for some insignia on her dress or carriage that might indicate what House she belonged to. I noted a pin on her short cape, a scarlet badge fashioned into the image of a horned hawk in flight. I was no herald — I knew the names and marks of many clans, but didn't recognize that symbol at all.

She lifted her chin, set her mouth in a determined line, and addressed me. "I bid you greetings. I am the Lady Emma of House Carreon."

She proffered her hand palm down, displaying a ring set with a blood red ruby.

House Carreon. The name rang a familiar tune, but conjured no details. I glanced at her ring, which she no doubt expected me to kiss. A test? She hadn't addressed me by any title, which made me think she didn't know who I was, or whether I was a knight, lord, magus, or otherwise.

Had Nath given her my identity at all, or did she think me some nameless servant of the Dark Lady?

I needed to make a decision as to what masque to project. The grim mercenary, the eldritch minion, or the chivalrous man-at-arms?

Only one role seemed honest. I'd been passed off by the Choir to Nath, who'd instructed me to assist her client, not kowtow to her. The Lady Emma needed to know that I was no drone, no hollow minion to serve at her will.

I was a contractor, and no gallant knight — not anymore.

So I turned to the Briar Brother, ignoring the girl's proffered hand. "Nath didn't tell me I'd be babysitting."

The carriage driver's bright eyes narrowed. The Lady Carreon, on the other hand, went pale with rage.

"I am of the blood of a High House!" She hissed. "How dare you disregard me!?"

So not just House Carreon, but High House Carreon. That was interesting, especially since I still didn't recognize the name.

She has a loose grip on her temper, I noted. Proud too, but that's most nobles.

I turned back to her and spoke in a bored drawl. "I'm not familiar with any realm ruled by a House Carreon. I am familiar with Bloody Nath. You would be ostracized as a witch anywhere in the Accorded Realms, milady. I don't need to explain to you who your patron is, do I?"

Lady Emma swiped her proffered hand down to let it rest on the basket-hilt of her fine sword. Her reply dripped acid. "Perhaps I need to explain it to you. Who do you think you are, to represent her so poorly?"

I kept my face carefully blank, though inwardly I winced. Perhaps I'd gone too strong on the blackguard guise. "Nath employs men like me for one reason," I said.

Then, deciding to indulge in a bit of drama, I unclasped Faen Orgis from its iron hook on my belt to reveal it. It still glowed softly from Caim's touchup. The aristocrat's eyes widened at the sight of it.

"You have bloody work that needs doing," I said. It wasn't a question. "All I need to know is who you want me to kill. Or," I added lightly, "who's trying to kill you."

A moment of silence fell, heavy and tense. The Briar Elf broke it.

"Our task is done," the creature said in its musical inflection. "We shall depart."

Before they left, faerie spoke to me one last time. "See to it my ladies charge does not come to harm, Headsman. Should she die, you will be held fully responsible. Remember it."

We all watched the two depart. When they'd gone, the noble turned her eyes back to me and pursed her lips in frustration.

"Perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot." She made an obvious effort to speak more politely. She even gave me a tight smile, clasping her gloved hands together. "I was not told who to expect, only that they would be capable and trustworthy."

She put special emphasis on the last word. "I have introduced myself. Will you not do the same, Ser?"

She studied me, and I realized she was trying to see through the shadow beneath my hood. No luck there. I'd been wandering backroads too long, and the shadows clung to me.

"Names are dangerous," I said. "Especially in the wild, with strangers. Don't know who might be listening."

After the Briar Brother had departed, the forest ghosts had started to drift closer. The noble's eyes tracked them, and she swallowed.

"Very well." She made a visible effort to maintain an uncaring calm. "I see you have no mount, so you will have to ride in my coach. Though I can tell you are no gentleman, I trust you will not be so much the fool as to try anything?"

"Don't worry," I said while tapping my axe against one shoulder. "I'm not into kids. You're perfectly safe, milady."

The girl's jaw went so tight I thought she might crack a tooth. "Then let us depart," she hissed, turning with a dramatic flourish of her cape to stomp to the carriage where the silent driver waited with the door open. The driver watched me with bright, malevolent eyes.

Just what had I gotten myself into this time?

The black coach rolled over the woodland road. For an hour, the Carreon girl said nothing to me. She didn't so much as meet my eye, instead opting to glare at the shuttered window on one wall, bobbing one heeled boot with impatient energy.

It got annoying after the first ten minutes, and my opinion didn't improve from there.

The interior of the vehicle turned out to be surprisingly spacious and comfortable, ignoring the constant clattering, bumping, and grinding. I had no idea how aristos could handle riding in these things for days or weeks at a time while traveling from region to region.

I'd grown used to long stretches of unbroken silence during my wanderings across the subcontinent. I said nothing, leaving my hood up to keep my face concealed, my axe propped against the cushioned seat at my side. There wasn't any space to use it, but its presence near at hand gave me some comfort. And it unnerved the girl, as did my shadowed face, which I enjoyed.

Perhaps I was being cruel. Then again, this youth was an acolyte for a malevolent demigoddess. Best she not come to expect amicability in those she associated with, lest she think her decision a good one. Further, I'd had little rest, and this little errand had pulled me away from a problem and a person I cared about.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I admit to feeling inclined to rudeness.

The girl, unsurprisingly, broke first. She huffed out in frustration, gritted her teeth as the carriage jolted, and fixed her eyes on me. I'd taken them for brown before, but on closer inspection they seemed closer to amber like my own, only lacking in the gleam of aura. With her dark hair — a brown close to black — they made her gaze uncommonly intense. Almost avian.

She crossed one leg over the other, for the tenth time in the last half hour, propping one elbow on a velvet pillow at her side. "So…" She studied me a moment, seeming to choose her words with care. "You are, what, indebted to Lady Nath? Her bondsman?"

Rather than answer I asked my own question. "Just what do you know about Nath?"

The young lady looked taken aback. "She is a mighty sorceress, knowledgeable and powerful. Lords across Urn fear her."

Well, that held enough truth in it, though it barely scraped the surface. "That's it?" I asked.

Again, the noble youth's lips tightened in poorly disguised frustration. "My business with Lady Nath is none of yours."

"It's exactly my business," I rejoined. "I've known your lady for many years."

That drew Emma's interest, her anger forgotten. She leaned forward. "Then you are, what? Her apprentice? A magus?"

"I'm a soldier," I answered honestly. "You noticed the axe?" I drummed my fingers against the weapon's blade.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Please. I know wizards aren't all bearded old men with staves. I know some sorcery, and yet I still use this."

She drummed her fingers against the ornate hilt of her slender sword, miming my own gesture. "But I think I understand. You are a mercenary, yes? Or indebted to Lady Nath in such a way that makes you the next best thing."

She nodded sharply. "You ask me if I know who my patron is as though you have the answer. So tell me, Ser Red, who is she?"

Ser Red. Well, it fit well enough. "Nath — Nath the Fallen, that is — has been trying to claim a great kingdom of her own for many centuries. She collects people for her court, and she's very selective. She's tried recruiting me a few times."

She'd made a good part of her fame trying to corrupt True Knights, and the members of the Alder Table in particular. I'd only become her focus after I'd become the last active member of that order. I didn't say as much to the girl — she didn't need to know my story, not in full.

"Tried," Emma repeated, frowning. "You… don't serve her? Then why are you here?"

I shrugged. "I'm on loan. I serve…" Here I hedged. "Well, a request made by Nath is hard to refuse. She's Onsolain."

To my surprise, Emma snorted with laughter. "Are you serious?" She said, almost giggling. "You're telling me she's an angel? I know she's a powerful witch, but I'm not that naive."

I frowned then. "The Onsolain are real," I said. "The Church—"

"The Church is an institution built to keep the commonfolk appeased while they wait for some fabled promised day," Emma said, looking bored. "It's all just ceremony. Tradition. The Houses have the real power, always have."

"Surely you've seen clerics wielding power?" I asked, disturbed by this blithe heresy. I didn't consider myself particularly devout, but the divine were real. I'd served them all my life, in one form or another.

Emma waved a dismissive hand. "I know how aura works. Even a village blacksmith can make a magic sword, if he awakens his soul. Just because a preoster adds prayer to the process doesn't make him special. I'm willing to believe Lady Nath might be Sidhe, or versed in magic that grants her their longevity. But a being born in Heaven? Please."

I was so taken aback by this I didn't speak for several minutes. "Where are we going?" I asked, changing the subject.

A line formed between Emma's long eyebrows. She leaned back and shrugged, adopting a bored expression. "I am presently living in a manor on the southern border of Idhir. We are going there."

"Idhir is some ways from here." I wasn't sure I had the patience to endure this arrogant girl's company for a matter of days in the cramped confines of the coach.

Emma flashed her teeth in a grin. "This is a very special vehicle. It belongs to my family."

With that she leaned back and rapped on the wall. Immediately I felt a change. A sound came from outside — a series of snaps — and I heard the two chimera let out croaking shouts. The coach suddenly tilted beneath me, and I had to grab my weapon and press a hand to one wall to keep both me and it from getting thrown across the cabin.

What in all the hells…

Emma had barely reacted to the sudden shifting, save that she'd grabbed an iron bar set on the roof. She smiled slyly, pleased by my reaction, then reached over to slide the small window open.

The rolling countrysides and forested hills of Urn's heartlands, cast in shades of black and pale blue by the starry sky, rolled beneath us, growing further and wider by the moment. I could hear the snap of great wings, feel the rush of wind in my face. The shadow of distant mountains clarified itself in the far horizon, and lakes and rivers gleamed like silver veins across the tapestry.

A flying coach. I turned my eyes to the young aristocrat, who watched me with almost predatory anticipation.

She wants me to be impressed, I realized.

I was. I'd seen sky-born transports before, but not often and not lately. The Sidhe once blessed the skies many nights, descending from clouds on chariots or coaches just like this one, clad in starlight as they hunted or picked the stray lucky mortal to join them. Human nobility sometimes owned beautiful carriages, using flying chimera and sorcerous craftsmanship to propel them across the lands at speed.

That'd all been more common once. The world had grown more dangerous. The elves had retreated into hiding, traumatized by the death of their capital and wary of further attack, and the lords of the Accord kept to their private manors and castles, fearful of a tenuous peace. The skies had grown darker, more foreboding. I'd seen very few such transports in recent years.

Just who was this young woman, to own such a precious thing? To have the personal favor of the Angel of the Briar?

Perhaps my flippancy before had been hasty.

That didn't stop me from settling back in my seat and folding my arms. I bowed my hooded head.

Emma frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some sleep," I said. "I barely rested before I got dragged to that crossroads. Wake me when we get there."

She spluttered, outraged. "But, we have more to discuss! You—"

"Can't do anything for you if I'm too exhausted to stand. I've been on the road for weeks. We'll talk tomorrow. You should find rest while you have the chance, milady. No need to waste a pleasant ride on dire talk."

Through one cracked eye I watched her settle back, grinding her teeth. I had to suppress a smile. Just because I'd been strong-armed into serving Nath and assisting this arrogant young warlock didn't mean I had to be polite about it.

The miles passed shockingly fast while flying. I'd never done it before, and it took me by surprise how much ground — or air, as it were — we covered.

Soon enough the sun lit the east, filtering wan through the omnipresent gloom squatting jealously over those lands. I usually couldn't see the bleak clouds of ash and storm above Seydis so clearly. I ended up shutting the coach's window and turning to the girl.

I'd woken an hour or so before, my dreamless rest leaving me quick as a dissatisfied lover. I ran a thumb along my dream-trap ring, secure now in its usual place on my right index finger. I felt half relieved that it still worked, and half disappointed.

That last dream had been so vivid. So had the pain. I shut the memory out with an effort of will. Those visions were poison.

Emma had fallen asleep after me. She slept still, her head pressed against one wall of the coach's interior. Several strands of dark hair had escaped from her braid to fall over her face. She looked even younger in sleep, the sharp lines of her angular features softening.

Too young for this nonsense. She'd still be a handmaiden or squire in any noble family at her age. What had drawn her into Nath's clutches? I needed to try and get her to tell me what this was all about, find out what danger she was in, and deal with it quickly so I could be done with this. The longer I fell under the Briar Angel's shadow, the greater chance I'd be unable to leave it.

I should have questioned her during the night, but I'd let my frustration get the better of me. I'd been immature. The thought made me sigh.

It could wait until she woke on her own. I'd meant what I'd said about getting rest before whatever trial the two of us faced came our way.

Without warning, the coach dipped. I had to grab my weapon and the girl's to keep either of us from getting injured, which gave me a chance to inspect her fine blade. On closer inspection, the sword was a truly beautiful weapon. Surprisingly hefty, with a slight curve to the blade and an intricate basket-hilt pommel. Silver designs enwrapped the hilt, done in ivy patterns ending in intricate spirals. They matched similar motifs on the black leather sheath.

The image of a hawk with wings outstretched dominated the crossguard, a small red teardrop stone clutched in its talons. The ruby matched the ring Emma wore on her hand.

No, not a ruby. On closer inspection, it looked more like colored glass or dyed amber. Without thinking about it, my fingers drifted closer to the stone.

Emma slid in her seat and woke with a start, catching a hand on one wall. Her eyes landed on her sword. "Don't touch that," she snapped, reaching for it. I let her snatch it back.

"We're descending," I told her.

Emma frowned. "We must be near Hunting lands."

I recognized the name. "That's House Hunting?"

Emma nodded. "I live on a manor in their lands."

Did she not live with her own family? I didn't know much about the Hunting clan, only that they controlled a large swathe of territory between Idhir and the Westvales and had for a very long time. They were vassals to Idhir's duke, and my knowledge ended there.

The girl's circumstances were less important to me than the task she needed my services for. Leaning forward as the flying coach continued its descent I said, "So tell me why Nath handed me off to you. What trouble are you in, lass?" At her wrathful expression I held up my hands in a placating gesture. "What trouble are you in, my lady."

Though hardly mollified, Emma didn't press the issue. She crossed one leg, adopting the arrogant posture she'd maintained the past night. "We'll speak of it later. I have some questions of my own."

She ignored the irritated set of my mouth, studying me thoughtfully. "First," she said, "why do you keep that hood up? Are you hideous? Scarred? Some sort of half breed?"

I'd completely forgotten about the cowl. I'd become so used to wearing it while traveling in dark, hostile places heavy with ghosts and magic, and the need to keep myself wrapped in shadow to ward off hostile attention had become necessity. It was easier to use glamour if I didn't let too much light touch me.

I'd kept it up the previous night half for dramatics.

I reached up and doffed my cloak's pointed cowl, letting my copper hair fall freely down to my shoulders. I met the girl's eyes, letting her see my scars, the unnaturally bright touch of gold in my eyes.

If it effected her at all, she hid it well. Emma pursed her lips critically. "Well, I was right about the scars at least. You're not nearly as hideous as I expected."

"Disappointed?" I asked.

She shrugged. "When Nath told me she'd loan me an agent, I'd half expected some deformed brute or devil. You…" She canted her head to one side. "Just seem a man. You aren't a changeling, are you?"

"No."

"Vampire?"

The corners of my lips twitched. "No."

Emma started counting off fingers. "Deathless warrior risen from the grave? A faerie prince? Demon bound in a man's flesh? Automaton? Disguised deva? Lycanthrope? Homunculus?"

When I'd refuted all of these, the young noble huffed and propped her cheek on one fist. "Boring. You're boring."

"Life's full of little disappointments, milady."

"Well," Emma said with a sigh, leaning back again. "So long as that pretty axe of yours isn't for show, I suppose you'll have to do."

I started to ask her for clarification when the coach hit another spot of turbulence. I grit my teeth, grabbing the iron handhold on the ceiling now I knew its purpose. How does anyone ride these things without having their nerves shot? This thing was going to get me killed before I'd face any monsters.

"And what exactly do you need my axe for?" I asked with forced patience.

She hesitated, and here I noted a touch of doubt crack the ice of her blithe confidence. "Nath did not tell you?"

I swallowed down my immediate bitter reply. It would be just like the rogue Onsolain to tell the one I'd been sent to assist as little as she'd told me. "I know very little. I didn't even know who I'd be meeting before you showed up."

"…I see." Emma glanced out the window of the coach to her right, which she'd opened minutes before. The sound of rushing wind was distracting, and the sight of fields rolling hundreds of feet below us terrifying, but I wasn't going to admit it.

"Well?" I laced some insistence into my voice.

"I'm being hunted." The Carreon swallowed, looking like she suddenly needed a cup of water. "By a creature."

"A creature?" There were a thousand different things that could mean. "What sort of creature?"

"One that does not die." Her expression darkened, amber eyes turning steely with a half suppressed emotion. "One that does not relent. It seeks to destroy my bloodline. I will not let it."

I was about to reply, but something out the window caught my attention. My eyes were very good for seeing in the dark, and while I had strong, clear vision they did not give me the ability to see over great distance. Everything below looked small and far away, just rolling fields, hills, and trees smaller than a single joint in my finger.

But I thought I saw something on a tall hill lit by the brightening morning. A tiny figure. Perhaps a shepherd or… no, they were riding something. The figure looked dark, perhaps clad in a cloak or—

"Are you listening to me?" Emma asked. I realized she'd been speaking, but I hadn't caught the last few words.

"There's someone down there," I said and nodded out the window. We were starting to pass the hill. The coach would nearly go right over it, and I could just make out the shape at its treeless crest.

"Probably just some peasant herder or trapper," Emma said dismissively. "The countryside is riddled with them. Now, perhaps you—"

No, not a cloak. They did wear a cape, long and billowing in the wind, somewhat ragged looking. They wore black clothes, and the chimera they rode was black as well. Was the hill on fire? I could see smoke.

They moved. Raising a hand I thought, perhaps to wave at us as we flew by. A flying coach probably wasn't a usual sight. Did they hold something in their hand?

"Damn it!" Emma's voice cracked with frustration. "If you're not going to listen to me, then why ask about my affairs?"

They were holding something in their hand. Something long. A sword? And they weren't wearing black clothes.

Black armor. And it wasn't a sword, but a spear. The figure moved, the arm flicking down in a motion so fast I barely caught it. The sunlight caught off metal as it flashed upward.

Oh God. "We're under attack!" I shouted, not for the girl's benefit but for the driver.

Too late. The spear hurtled through the air faster than any bird, fast as a ballista bolt. Perhaps more so. I didn't see it hit one of the two crow griffons pulling the coach, but I heard it. There was a sharp crack! and the sound of wood breaking as the beast's harness snapped in a sudden motion, a din of screeching from both creatures. Emma shouted, and I was shouting, and I think the driver was saying something too but it was lost in the wind.

We began to tilt, then fall. I lost sight of the rider as the window suddenly faced the sky. Emma was thrown from her seat and I grabbed her for fear the small door might suddenly fly open and I'd lose her to the wind.

We rolled. All I could hear was the girl's panicked scream and roaring wind, and the furious beating of the still living chimera's wings as it worked them furiously. To no avail. Whatever sorcery kept this thing aloft, it still required balance and with a thousand pounds of dead animal weight it couldn't maintain it.

I hit the ceiling as gravity suddenly abandoned me. Emma was still in my arms, shouting something I couldn't make out. We bounced again, tumbling like debris inside the cramped confines of the coach. Something solid struck me in the head — Emma's sword, I thought, which thankfully remained fastened in its sheath.

Bizarrely, I caught the scent of burning fur.

Wood splintered. The door to my right flew open and the wind was ripping at my hair. I could see trees below, growing larger with terrifying speed. The coach was rolling, and I saw sky again, then the trees, then sky. A dizzying rhythm that left the former further and the latter closer with each inevitable rotation.

My mind had come loose and formed its own spinning pattern of panicked thought, and all I could think was Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, what do I do what do I do we're going to die we're going to—

Something huge and dark with sharp claws and shining green eyes appeared in the door. It didn't so much as glance at me, just grabbed the girl and let the wind carry them off.

Leaving me alone and still falling.

The coach hit the trees, and everything went black.

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