~ Chapter 25: Deliverance ~

Estrion’s farm was quiet in the night. Breeze, Erasmus, and Fenton watched it from a distance, their paws resting gently on their weapons.

“I don’t see many guards.” Breeze mumbled.

“I count four outside,” Fenton whispered, fingering his bow. “Two here, two on the far side of the house.”

“There’s only one way in, one way out.” Breeze replied, shifting in place. In one paw he clutched a wide short sword, his other left empty.

“If we go along the side of that barn,” Erasmus added, turning the small knife he’d been given over in his paws. “We can probably avoid them until we get close.”

Breeze nodded. “I’ll get one, Fent?”

“Don’t sweat it, Breezy.” The Doberman whispered, shifting in place.

After Erasmus found the estate’s address, the three of them had slowly made their way out of town, trying not to draw any undue suspicion. Breeze had been desperate to go immediately, but for once he listened to better reason.

Still, listening or not. Erasmus thought, eyeing the big wolf. I don’t like the look of him tonight. Breeze seemed to have no idea that he was injured, somehow oblivious to the fact that he walked with a pronounced limp. He claimed he could manage without the crutch, at least for a little while, but Erasmus saw the tightening in his jaw as he struggled up hills and dips. Yet he was determined to see this through.

Erasmus wasn’t sure if he was brave, stupid, or both.

Now, in the darkness, Breeze seemed to come alive. He leant against a tree, eyes boring holes in the small farmstead at the base of the surrounding knolls. They’d been there for hours, and had seen Estrion come out once to use the privy.

They were in there. Erasmus wanted to cry, because they were in there, right there.

One last fight. He thought, closing his eyes and offering a prayer to a Triumvirate he no longer believed in. One last fight, and then let us leave this nightmare behind. After this it was only diplomacy; meeting with the Emperor, procuring his son’s bastard pup, ending the hundred years of hate and war.

Seemed too good to be true.

“Do you feel ready?” Breeze asked, looking to Erasmus. The otter flinched under his intense gaze, but nodded. Was there a point telling him the truth?

“I’m ready. What happens if they have more guards inside?”

“I don’t think they will.” Breeze explained. “We would have seen them change shifts.” He pointed out a well-lit barn to the far side. “That’s where the others spend their down time, I doubt Estrion is one to let his bodyguards sleep in the same house as him.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

Breeze only shrugged.

Erasmus sighed. He was elated at the prospect of getting Abigail back, of saving her from the people that had betrayed them, the people that stabbed Breeze and threw them both into the Lyskirk-Ferrin bay. Behind the excitement and triumph however, Erasmus felt a depressing shiver. A dark, blanketing kind of hopelessness, as if there were nothing he could do in the face of everything that was happening. Breeze wouldn’t listen if he asked to stop, and he certainly couldn’t overpower the wolf. He felt powerless, like whatever was coming – and it would surely be bad – was inevitable.

“Ras.” Breeze whispered, not looking at him. “When we make the approach, can you soothe me?”

Erasmus’s breath caught in his throat. “You’ve never asked me to do that before.”

“I know... but...” Breeze rubbed at his injured knee, scowling. “You have done it before. You helped me beat Nail. I need your help again.”

And if I said no? Erasmus wondered. He’d just go in without it, and die.

“Yes.” The otter said eventually. “I can.”

Breeze grunted. “Good. As we go down, stay behind me, Fenton – you keep a few metres back, cover us.”

“Got it, chief.” Fenton replied. “If more show up though, this might get tricky. I only got eleven arrows left.”

“There are nine guards, total.” Breeze said flatly.

“And if I miss twice?”

“Don’t miss.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t I think of that?” The Doberman tsked, climbing to his feet and moving to the side.

“Are you ready?” Breeze asked Erasmus. He reached over with his empty paw, taking the otter’s smaller one and squeezing. “We can do this, we can get her back, together.”

Erasmus felt nothing but a chill run through him. “I’m ready.”

Breeze stood, and with a sharp hiss aimed at his knee, slowly began to descend the hill.

Erasmus kept just behind him as they went, slowly making their way through the open farm-style fencing, creeping up toward the barns and silos on the eastern side of the property. Erasmus didn’t feel very stealthy, especially with Breeze’s muttered curses as he willed his leg to keep up.

Soothing, right. Erasmus thought, trying to narrow his focus. Forgot, I’m supposed to do that now. With such a sparsely populated area, finding Breeze was easy. He felt like a sharp point, and as soon as Erasmus touched him light fingers of pain lanced through his knee.

“Fuck.” The otter spat through gritted teeth, tripping slightly.

“You okay?” Breeze asked, glancing over his shoulder, standing just a little straighter. They were in the shadow of a silo, discarded farm equipment helping mask their shape. The moon was full tonight, and Erasmus could see Breeze’s features easily enough even in the gloom. The farmhouse was only sixty or seventy metres from them.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Erasmus whispered back, forcing a grin.

If this is what bleeds through my soothing. The otter thought. Then the pain in his leg must be immense.

Regardless, the two trudged onward.

Finally, they reached the edge of the cover, a short sprint separating them from the farmhouse proper. It was maybe twenty metres, too far for Breeze to run, that was for sure. The barn cast a dark shadow in the night, the moon’s light shining on the far side of the building.

The little farmstead Richeleau and Estrion were staying in was a squat building, lit inside with several oil lamps and a hearth. It had a quaint thatch roof, and even a few slivers of glass worked into the windows. A baseline of brick ran around the walls, but for the most part they were made of strong wood. Two guards stood a few feet from the only doorway, lounging lazily, spears resting to one side. Even from here, Erasmus could hear their discussion.

“I’m sick of it.” One, a lanky fox, whined.

“What, the bloody rain?” Said his companion, a short brown wolf. “It ain’t rainin’ now innit, more do you want?”

“Just this weather in general, I mean.” The fox said. “I wish it’d make up its mind, either be dour, or be lovely. I hate this bouncy in-between shite.”

“Dour, lovely? Who died and made you the king of womens’ language?”

“I’ve been reading.” The lanky fox said, bristling slightly. “Medicine woman in the village taught me some letters. Not like there’s much else to do out here, in the arse-end of nowhere.”

“Ras.” Breeze’s voice now, whispering in his ear. “I think Fenton is in place, are you ready?” The wolf looked braced to run. All Erasmus could picture was Breeze collapsing from pain a few feet from the guards, their spears rammed through his back.

“Wait, wait!” Erasmus said, turning about and sheathing his knife, going to his knees. He felt about the ground, his paws finding only wet grass. “Shit, shit.” He muttered, panicking. Finally, his padded fingers closed around what he’d been searching for: a small rock.

Without waiting for Breeze’s questions, Erasmus took a step back and hurled it overarm at the silo. The rock struck with an echoic clang, bouncing off the wall and into an iron slasher, ricocheting from the metal and banging loudly with each new impact.

“Ras?!” Breeze hissed, whirling.

Erasmus cupped his paws around his muzzle, and let out a choking clicking noise.

“The hell’s that?” The lanky fox asked, grasping his spear. Erasmus grabbed Breeze’s wrist and pulled him deeper into the shadow.

“Some vermin, leave it be Laton.” The wolf replied, and Erasmus could almost hear the roll of his eyes.

“What’s it doin?” The fox said, louder. Erasmus cupped his paws again and made the strange keening noise.

“Tryin’ to fuck, I said leave it be already. Would you want some giant git interrupting your roll?” The wolf.

“I’m gonna shoo it off.” The fox said resolutely.

“Suit yerself.” The wolf. “But I ain’t helpin’ ya intimidate some poor critter.”

In the darkness, Erasmus felt Breeze grin as the sound of boots crunching on grass approached them.

“Oi, little thing, you there?” The fox called uncertainly. He popped his head around the corner and saw the two of them, eyes widening. “He--”

The scream died in his throat as Breeze pushed his sword through. The guard dropped his spear and put his paws to his neck, blood streaming between fingers. Breeze yanked the blade free and put it flat through his chest, ending his life with a short puff sound.

The guard fell dead, and a moment later Erasmus heard what sounded like a loud punch. He stepped around the side of the barn, and saw the short wolf slumped limply over the fence he’d been standing behind, an arrow stuck through one eye.

“Good thinking.” Breeze said, breathing heavily. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah.” Erasmus said, swallowing.

The two walked, and limped, over to the farmhouse, keeping their eyes on the windows. None appeared.

Erasmus glanced back into the darkness, but couldn’t see Fenton anywhere. He gave a wave at the shadows, hoping the Doberman saw.

Keep us covered. There’s only one door for them to get out, but if those seven others come in we’ll be trapped. He thought.

Breeze strolled casually up to the door, only barely limping now, and rapped on the front with the pommel of his sword. Erasmus groaned, feeling the pain sharp in his leg.

From inside the farmstead, the sounds of someone moving, accompanied by muffled complaints echoed out.

“What is it?” A sharp, nasally voice behind the door snapped.

“We found something, think you might wanna see it sir!” Breeze said, putting on his broadest accent.

“Oh, for Triumvirate’s sake...” The nasally voice replied. Erasmus tensed as two locks and a chain were pulled back, followed by the door swinging inward.

Erasmus recognised the tall, grey fox that opened the door immediately. Captain Estrion. He wore loose slacks and a white undershirt, an iron goblet of wine clutched in one paw.

He recognised them too.

“You!” Estrion cried, eyes bulging as he stepped back. He dropped the wine and it hit with a clatter, splashing it over their boots.

Breeze grinned. “Me.” And he stepped forward and plunged the tip of his sword right through Estrion’s thigh. The sword slipped straight through his flesh like it was meant for it, going halfway deep as gore bubbled up around it. Breeze released the sword and seized Estrion by the front of the muzzle, squeezing hard before hurling him backwards.

With a pained cry, the fox tumbled over onto his arse, clutching and screaming as the sword in his leg struck the walls and floor. Breeze stepped in, kicking him once in the side.

“B-Breeze?” A high-pitched voice cried from the side. Erasmus followed inside, turning to see the former Madame Richeleau splayed back against a bookshelf. She wore only a blue silken shift, and her eyes were as large as saucers. “You’re alive.”

“I am.” The wolf said, stalking toward her. The fox’s eyes flicked across the room, and Erasmus followed them to a small white bassinet resting by the window.

Richeleau made for it, but Breeze was ready. His fist sunk into her gut and she folded around him, spitting out a mouthful of saliva and bile. The woman crumpled to her knees, and Erasmus gingerly stepped around the blabbering Estrion, going to the bassinet.

“You stole from us.” Breeze said calmly, lifting one boot and resting it on the side of the fox’s head. “Sold us out, tried to kill me.”

“Hey.” Erasmus said, reaching into the crib. Abigail’s face lit up as he did so, her tiny paws reaching out for him as he grabbed her. “I got you, little one.”

“Breeze, c’mon, please.” Richeleau said, wriggling beneath Breeze’s heel. Her breaths came hard and fast. “I’m a survivor. You have to understand that, you of all people should--”

“Should nothing.” Breeze growled, grounding his boot against her cheek and drawing out a curling wail.

Erasmus pressed himself to the corner of the room, turning in time to see Estrion up and on his feet. With one red-soaked leg, the sword pulled free and clutched in a paw, he rushed Breeze. The wolf turned from Richeleau and drew a knife from his belt.

No, wait. Erasmus thought, taking on as much of Breeze’s pain as he could manage. He held Abigail tight to his chest, shielding her eyes.

Estrion came in with a wide, overhead swing. Breeze reached up and caught his wrist easily, plunging his knife swiftly into Estrion’s gut. The fox coughed, blood splattering out onto Breeze’s chest.

“You thought you could steal from me?” Breeze said quietly. His voice was low, calm. Somehow, Erasmus found it so much more unsettling than when he screamed. “FROM ME?!” He roared suddenly.

“No, don’t.” Estrion begged, dropping the sword with a crash.

“Yes.” Breeze said, and with a jerk he tugged the knife upward. It ripped through the meat, splitting Estrion’s belly from near groin to sternum. When the knife reached his chest Erasmus heard a slight crack and saw Breeze stop, steam rising from the entrails that had dropped from the slit in Estrion’s gut. The wolf tore the blade free, pushing Estrion back.

The brown wolf stumbled once, pawing lamely at his open wound. He looked to Erasmus, tried to say something, and then fell over, twitching and writhing wordlessly in a gored messy heap.

“Now, you.” Breeze said, stomping over to where Richeleau had crawled away. She made it as far as the hearth, and as Breeze drew close she pulled a poker free, swinging back at him. The poker’s end caught his paw and Breeze growled, stepping down and falling on the woman. Straddling her, he punched her square in the face, teeth bared. She tried to use the poker to beat him off, but her strikes were too weak and ineffectual. Breeze tore the rod from her grip and hurled it across the room.

“Don’t look.” Erasmus said, shuffling toward the door, careful not to let his eyes drift to the bloody mess that was left of Estrion.

“You fucking whore.” Breeze said.

“Breeze, Breeze, you need to understand... I was only trying to--”

“I don’t care.” Breeze replied, taking her face in one big paw and slamming the back of her skull into the ground with a thud.

“Breeze.” Erasmus whispered, but the wolf ignored him.

“Just take her!” Richeleau said woozily, slurring through a mouthful of blood. “Just go, please... I wanted to show you mercy, remember? On the boat... I told him not to hurt you, please, Breeze, don’t kill me.”

Erasmus knew he should leave, but his body was frozen in place. Breeze was covered in blood, a wide grin plastered on his face. Erasmus wondered if it was the real him in there, or the Witchborn part of himself.

Is there really a difference? He thought, absently.

“Beg.” Breeze hissed, one paw closing around Richeleau’s neck. “Beg.”

“Please.” The fox gasped, her voice raspy and dry. Her paws went to his face, fingers trying to dig at his eyes but barely reaching his chin. “Breeze. Don’t. Please. Stop.”

Breeze leaned down, huffing. He took his knife and stuck it point-first into the wooden floorboards beside her head, using the newly free paw to close around the other.

“Pleeease.” Richeleau hissed, barely audible now.

“No.” Breeze said. Erasmus saw the wolf throw his weight onto his paws, and the fox beneath him began kicking. Her legs and arms flapped wildly, uselessly beating at the weight atop her, too frail and defeated. A shake ran through Breeze’s arms, and he snarled, smashing her head down once again.

Erasmus turned away. He’d seen this scene before.

“Let’s go.” He whispered to Abigail, the scent of blood, shit, sweat, and fear growing too strong for him. He let his soothing drop, but heard no obvious change from Breeze, still snarling and snapping behind him.

Erasmus walked outside, feeling drained. Seven bodies laid near the door, arrows punched through necks and eyes and chests. One man was groaning softly, trying to crawl away, a long trail of dark blood stretching out behind him.