The Iron Dragon of Destiny (Epic Fantasy) (Adventure) (Freeform)

Joseph glanced at the gnome as he warned him, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Well, after an attack like that, it's possible that a rogue stayed behind. I was merely being cautious." He said as he leaned forward on the railing. He then glanced at him again when Katarina came up. "Well, can't be too cautious considering she's been pretending to be a noble, and if I'm correct, was one of the rogues sent to find Merlin. A cornered animal can and will strike out to protect itself." He said simply.

When Mance brought up his lack of ability to read his own language... it struck a bit of a chord with Joseph. He knew quite well what it was like to lack a certain ability that others expect you to have. The only difference between the gnome and him was that he was expected to take up a position of high authority that centered around that certain ability. He turned to the gnome as his hand strayed up to begin twisting the snarling wolf pin on his cravat. "...I say do it. The only way to learn something is to do it. If you can't, you can try again and again until you've finally managed to do what you've set out to accomplish. By being afraid of failure, you'll never be able to learn." He said, pausing for a moment before taking a deep breath. "...And please, call me Joseph." He said, offering a weak, uncertain smile.

 

Fallow left behind Gregard and walked into the dinner car as Katarina was confessing her true identity. He froze in shock. So it was true what Joseph had suspected. The beautiful rich lady was actually...a rogue? For a moment he felt dizzy trying to reconcile his romantic feelings for this lovely specimen that was also a bloodthirsty killer. She said as much herself to Ninnevah as Fallow hung back and watched. It almost made her MORE scary, the fact that she could pull off looking like a fragile flower when that couldn't be farther from the actual truth.

Slowly Fallow's emotions went from shock to acceptance and he realised something else: if Katarina the Golden Huntress was a liar, then maybe she wouldn't care that he was a liar himself. Heck, even Priestess Ninnevah had kept her true self hidden! This train seemed to be full of people in disguise. It made Fallow wonder if the aloof Joseph was hiding something too.

"Eh-herm." Fallow cleared his throat and took a seat at Ninnevah and Katarina's table. He pulled a bowl of cheese soup to himself and started stirring it, staring at what he was doing to avoid looking the strong, confident women in their eyes. "I...I have something to confess. If you haven't figured it out yet, I mean. I'm not a great wizard. I'm just a sad country bumpkin hedge. The spells you saw me do is all I'm capable of. I'm sorry for, uh, lying to your faces."

 

"I...I have something to confess. If you haven't figured it out yet, I mean. I'm not a great wizard. I'm just a sad country bumpkin hedge. The spells you saw me do is all I'm capable of. I'm sorry for, uh, lying to your faces."

Katarina didn't intend to divulge her information to Fallow, but didn't really mind anyhow. After all, she may end up dead at the next stop from what was likely to be brought down on her. The alcohol helped.

"Let me tell a quick secret Mr. Fields." she told in a educational fashion, "your voice tells lies while your image tells truth. I knew your status, age, skill, current thoughts simply on body language and appearance. And I wasn't wrong. Let me ask you, who did you think I was when you laid eyes on me? A noblewoman? Rich? Dainty and unassuming? Do you have any idea what my actual interest was in you? Lying is an art of time and preparation. Speaking is only one part of the act."

She tried to look the part of a studios professor giving a high lecture, but she ended up breaking down in laughs soon after. Too much to drink. She took another gulp.

She looked back at Fallow with a more serious face this time. "And don't belittle your capabilities. I saw your little thief of a friend you made. You have the greatest gift a rogue could ever ask for: a partner that can't betray him. Your little dove is more than a sideshow, and if the good priestess feels like dropping to my level of morals, it could prove an amazing tool." Katarina sat back on the bench and put her arms out broadly on the top of the wide seat. She was likely done with drinking for tonight, being so overly pleased with herself amidst utter failure. And another bottle down...

 

Mance grinned at Joseph. "Okay, sir...I mean Joseph," he replied. "Well, if you think I do it then I'll give it a try." The gnome rolled back his shoulders and marched back into the train. Ninneveh was downing the rest of her wine, and Katarina and Fallow were engaged in conversation, when the gnome entered the dinner car. He walked up to the table and took a deep breath to steel his nerves before speaking. It took a lot of courage for him to do this and it was obvious by his strained expression and the way he clutched the handle of his shovel.

"I think I can decipher some of the Tablet," Mance said finally. "I don't know much faerie language...barely none, in fact...but there's a slight possibility I can translate a phrase or two of that Prophecy. Whaddaya say? Can I look it over?"

Priestess Ninneveh had gone completely still when Mance said he might be able to read Merlin's Tablet. Now she reached into her robes and pulled it out, laying it on the table between all the food dishes. "Go ahead," she urged gently. "Take your time."

Mance took the Tablet in his small hands and scanned the spinning carved runes with narrowed eyes. He muttered to himself as he turned the Tabket upside down, sideways, diagonal, every way possible. At last he shook his head and flipped the Tablet over to read the back side. He scanned it in the same manner. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can read anything," Mance grumbled. "Sorry to disappoint...wait, there's something here. It says Merlin's name." The gnome was pointing to the last line in the Prophecy. "It says...it says Merlin's return."

"What!?" Ninnevah dropped her wine glass and it shattered on the floor. "How is that possible? He died in my arms, I'm certain of it. What else does it say?"

Mance glared at the Tablet for a long moment. "That's all I can read. Those two words. Merlin's return."

Priestess Ninnevah took back the Tablet. "Th...thank you, Mance. I think I'll go to bed now." She stood and walked back to the passenger car in a daze, clutching the Tablet tightly to her chest. She wrapped herself in one of the extra-soft cashmere blankets that Gregard passed out for them to sleep with. And if anyone came near, they would hear her quietly crying herself to sleep.


***


Chapter Two:
Battle of the Old Gods


The next day was partly cloudy and the air smelled of rain. Mance came out of the engine room in his usual soot-covered overalls, pushing the food cart laden with breakfast foods. He offered oatmeal, blueberry muffins, strawberries, grape jelly and sliced toast, boiled eggs, baked salmon, and plain rice. For drinks there was orange juice, coffee, and filtered water.

When Mance made it to Ninnevah, he carefully poked her shoulder to wake her. The priestess was still wrapped up like a cocoon. She slowly roused and gave him a sleepy smile. "Don't mind me, I'm just a bag of emotions since what you told me last night," she told him after yawning and stretching. "I'll take a muffin and a coffee mug, and a water glass to rinse it all down. Do you think we'll make it to Oldtown soon?"

Mance nodded. "Gregard told me himself that Oldtown was only a mile away. We should be there in no time."

Priestess Ninnevah nodded and started picking at her muffin, lost in thought.

Outside of the train, the endless grasslands were giving way to ploughed fields and scattered farmhouses. They passed many statues of Goddess Abundaya placed at random in the fields. They were carved from soft pink stone, a shapely woman with flowing curls and a smiling mouth, and many colorful flowers were laid around Abundaya's feet. Every statue had a horned moon carved into the goddesses forehead.

"The farmers worship the Earth Goddess here," Ninnevah commented. "Maybe that means they'll give me special treatment when they see my tattoo. First person we see I'm asking to show me where the nearest faerie is that can translate the Tablet."

 

Katarina sat on her rack in her leather armor looking out the window as Oldtown came into view. Many options of what to do when the train stopped crossed her mind. Running and creating the new identity came up first. It was the most logical route, and the old gold standard. She was a survivor repeatedly through this, but something had changed in her. Maybe the priestess, maybe age, or even fear, but something had changed.

The second thought was to stay. Maybe this lot can give her much purpose, which she lacked. Maybe it could even raise her to a power unattainable previously. Or it could be a dead end. The fantastic mystery of it kept her interested. The words of the gnome last night only drew her farther in. If Merlin was truly coming back, would she still be interested in killing him for money? Katarina didn't even know fully. At this exact moment, probably less, but this new lot she had around may convince otherwise. Maybe forcefully. She would leave that decision up to the time.

Katarina glanced at her dress perfectly folded at the end of the bed from the night before. The disguises, covers, people she assumed. They were never her. Some people she played as she hated. Every scenario was devoid of simplicity. It was exhausting at times. It was decided. If Katarina were to truly be herself, then her values possessions were to be her only dress. The characters could be saved and sourced for other times. Right now, she could be Katarina Illenya. Nothing more, nothing less.

She glanced down at her blacked leather armor. It fit like a glove neck to finger tip to toe. It had no shine, and a burnt appearance. Straps around the sides of body allowed for two dagger slots, which were filled. A right leg strap held her third dagger on the outside, and hid the single shot pistol on the inside. She rarely ever got to use it, but she kept it just in case. A fourth blade was hidden in her boot, but not visible. She looked at it with assumed x-ray vision. Few living people had ever seen her in this form. It was an exciting prospect to be revealed.

Katarina felt the pin and ribbon stabbing slightly in her hair, messed up from sleeping on it while fairly drunk. She pulled it and let her hair fall to mid chest level. It had gotten long. She could see the amber hues sparkle on it as it fell. Katarina felt pride in the beautiful natural color.

She rose quickly, taking one last look out the window. The screen for sleeping swept open as Mance greeted her with some breakfast. She accepted the fruit, salmon, and water, opting to barely acknowledge the gnome. She still didn't care for his kind. After finishing it quickly, Katarina looked outside the rack area, ready to start the day. First plan of action was to find out the plan of the day from the priestess. Whether she wanted to help her, or betray her was still up in the air. Katarina figured it would be best to go with the flow. Her feelings would let her know then. Best to keep options open. But for now, showing the world her real look was the first order of business.

She found the priestess eating. "What's the plan today?" she stated as if asking for orders. "I know the tablet is important to you, but what is your plan for the election campaign? Right now you seem voteless." Katarina was honestly concerned. She didn't want to be associated with a character living a fantasy.

 

Priestess Ninnevah took a long moment to take in Katarina's startling appearance. She was beautiful, but also terrifying. "Okay, firstly, you look ready for anything," Ninnevah commented with a crooked grin. "As for my campaign plans...I was hoping Merlin's name would be enough to garner support, especially among the Traditionals. They worship him like a god, even after he left. Plus, I'm a Priestess, so that will cement my position with them. You can't get much more Traditional than that. The Moderates will no doubt vote for me because I'll be the only Moderate candidate on the ballot. So that's a helluva lot of votes already in the bag."

"You gots my vote, Miss Priestess Ninnevah," Mance chimed in. He raised his shovel in a salute.

Ninnevah bowed in his direction. "Thanks, gnome friend." She turned back to Katarina. "I was also hoping the Tablet, once translated, would detail my next steps. Until then...well...I thought it would be best to keep my identity and my connection to Merlin a secret. That's a Priestess's best weapon, secrecy."

"I thought your best weapon was that, uh, Destiny power you got," Mance scrutinized.

"Butt out," Ninnevah said, throwing a napkin at his head. "My only real plans right now are to get to Avareon without getting assassinated, register for the ballot, and give a speech along with the other candidates on Election Day to explain what I'm about...unless the Prophecy tells me different, I guess."

"Eight minutes until we reach Oldtown Station, I repeat, eight minutes," Gregard spoke over the crackly speakers.

Priestess Ninnevah suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Eight...eight is not a good omen," she muttered, clutching her robes tighter.

 

Joseph watched the gnome walk away, before turning back to the tracks that continued to move past him. He took a deep breath and then turned around, following after the gnome. He may as well see if anything comes from the endeavor. He slipped into the dining car and stepped off to the side as to not get into anyone's way. He listened to the gnome trying to translate, feeling a pang of regret at telling him to try. He looked confused, maybe a little frustrated and embarrassed perhaps...? It was too late now. Joseph did at least see him perk up and felt some relief, drawing close, he heard two words that filled him with absolute confusion. 'Merlin's return'.

A resurrection, perhaps? If he was dead in the first place that is, and if that tablet is truly what Ninnevah said that it is. Right now, he had little information to work with, and little reason to trust this priestess. Merlin's existence was like a catbox. He was both alive and dead, until he opened that catbox himself to see the Merlin's condition, it was an uncertainty. With little reason to stick around, Joseph turned around and walked to the luggage car.

He looked around at the bags that were piled up from the several different passengers, idly looking around for his own cases. Soon enough he found them stacked into a neat pile. He carefully retrieved the one carrying his clothing, and more importantly his book, and then walked back to the passenger car.

When he arrived back to the passenger car, he walked back to his seat, opening his case, and retrieving a black leather bound book and a simple black fountain pen. Once he was finished with that, he promptly shut and secured his suitcase's latches. He then slid the suitcase in the overhead compartment above where he was seated, as to not have to search for it in the morning. He finally sat back down in his seat, opening up the book and beginning to write everything that happened during the day in neat cursive handwriting, along with his suspicions about Ninnevah and her so called prophetic tablet. He wrote well into the night while others slept, doing his best to ensure that he didn't miss a single detail. He soon simply tucked the book between himself and the seat. Feeling too tired to change into proper nightclothes, he fell asleep.

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Joseph awoke the next morning in his seat. His back felt a bit cramped up from sleeping in such a pose, but he supposed that there was little to be done about that. He sat up straight in his seat, standing up once he'd regained his bearings. His suit was slightly creased and crumpled from the way that he'd been sleeping, but he cared little for that, his hair was a bit of a mess as well, He needed a shower... He got up and retrieved his suitcase, placing his book within and pulling out a fresh change of clothes and some toiletries he had brought with him.

He got up from his seat, stretching and rubbing his stiff back, before walking to one of the bathrooms in the passenger car. He would set his clothing aside after locking the door, promptly stripping down and stepping into the shower. He allowed the warm water to cascade down his body, helping soothe the aches and pains that he'd gotten from sleeping in such an awkward position last night. He'd stand there for only a few moments, before beginning to wash his body and hair, trying to be aware of the amount of time he was taking up. After all, he didn't want to have others to have to wait on him because he was taking his sweet time in the shower. As soon as he had finished washing for the day, he quickly dried himself off, brushed his teeth, brushed his hair down until it was laying flat, dressed in his usual suit, and exited the bathroom after packing everything up. He walked back to his suitcase and put everything away.

Once that was finished, he walked into the dining car. He gave a tired little nod to Mance as he passed by, grabbing a plate of salmon, a bowl of rice, a muffin, some toast, a glass of orange juice, and a mug of coffee from the trolley, before sitting down at a table by himself. He glanced outside of the window watching the scenery pass by. He would slice up the salmon and put it in with his rice, mixing it around, before beginning to eat his breakfast. He barely acknowledged anyone else's presence in the dining car. He was used to eating alone, whether it was just having a meal in his room as to avoid dealing with his family, or dining in the large empty dining hall when his family was away and he had more freedom of movement around the estate. Talking with others while eating was a foreign concept to him, it was always awkward whenever he was dragged out of his room for a party, to be shown off to his father's acquaintances or business partners who insisted that they met him.

 

"Okay, firstly, you look ready for anything," Ninnevah commented with a crooked grin. "As for my campaign plans...I was hoping Merlin's name would be enough to garner support, especially among the Traditionals. They worship him like a god, even after he left. Plus, I'm a Priestess, so that will cement my position with them. You can't get much more Traditional than that. The Moderates will no doubt vote for me because I'll be the only Moderate candidate on the ballot. So that's a helluva lot of votes already in the bag."

Katarina gave a semi-humble smile at the first comment (she loved being complimented), and then frowned for the rest of the argument, before her retort.


"Anyone born in the last 30 years really won't know who Merlin is, and any who lost family members in the flood will hate him and anyone associated. The moderates will likely have many of the lower classes in their voter base. I wouldn't be so certain of any victory." She stared intensely at the priestess, with her arms folded. Katarina realized she had given a problem without a solution, and quickly changed tone. "You need something make them know you and understand who you are. You need to make a grand statement. This is your first stop on a little campaign trail. Are you going to do it here, or further up the line?" She felt her question and concerns were well grounded. She wasn't going to board sinking ship, and really just wanted to see if Merlin had one last party trick.

"Eight minutes until we reach Oldtown Station, I repeat, eight minutes,"

Katarina felt the train lurch as it braked. She felt as if a strong wind and heat rose in her. Something was wrong and she could see it in the priestess' face. She felt it too. But it also felt somewhat right at the same time, as if what was coming to pass was meant to be. It was a bizarre feeling, one of which she had never experienced. She experienced pain, touched the warmth of blood, yet was encompassed mentally with exhilaration. She snapped back to reality.


"We can't be seen together. A great rogue never shows their weapons unless they need to. I will leave the train first and go about on my own, but I am indeed watching." She saw a distracted woman in front of her, instead of the confidence of previous moments.

"Eight...eight is not a good omen,"

"Are you listening?" Katarina was getting annoyed. "Something isn't right here. Let me get off first and scout on my own." She paused and couldn't fathom her own words. "I feel something...violent...is going to happen. Let me find it first." If anything, she could escape and leave the priestess to her own fate if necessary. The strange feeling of fear and strength flowed through her veins. She was excited for no reason. It was invigorating.

Katarina turned away and headed for the door of the slowing train. She turned back shortly as she left the train car. "Where I'm from, eight is a number of good luck." She smiled and left, right hand on her sheathed blade.

"Don't trust anyone." Her smiled crooked.

"Even me."

 

Priestess Ninnevah smiled nervously after Katarina. She didn't want to let the small woman leave on her own, but that was just her being silly again. Katarina was perfectly capable of handling herself. She was a rogue, one of the best. And Ninnevah still needed to wash off, so she quickly finished her breakfast and headed for the restroom.

When Katarina stepped out onto Oldtown Station she found it deserted and eerily quiet. The opposite of the bustling Collegetown Station. There was a bar straight across from the station, but if she cared to look inside it was also completely empty. There was a small number of other businesses (a grocery shop, a shoe repair shack, a fine clothing boutique, etc) but they were widely spaced apart, and the nearest barnhouse was about a mile away.

A bald old man came by on the dust road, riding a donkey that pulled a rickety cart. Inside the cart was a big pot full of carrots and a few cabbages. The old man stopped and turned to Katarina when he noticed her standing on the station platform.

"You coming to the Ritual Feast?" he asked bluntly. "We could use all the help we need to call Goddess Abundaya. Our crops are suffering from widespread rot. None of our remedies can reverse the damage, so we're gathering foods to throw in a ceremonial bonfire, in hopes Abundaya will grant us a blessing."

"That's so stupid!" screamed a young teen boy. He was walking behind the cart, frowning angrily. "We should be saving our food, not throwing it into a fire! The Old Way isn't the only way, Grandpa! We could call some scientists from Collegetown to examine the crops, maybe they could - "

"Enough, Carlton," Grandpa snapped. "We're Traditional in Oldtown and we do things the way our ancestors did them. Don't go rambling about your science and modern thinking. It ain't got no place here."

Just then, Ninnevah exited the restroom in the train looking fresh and smelling of pink roses. Her gray-silk locs were rewrapped around her head and she tied the beige turban around them with practiced ease. She smiled breezily at Joseph as she made her way to the train exit, a hundred laugh lines crinkling her cheeks.

"Going out with us, noble?" the priestess asked. "I have to find a faerie before the train starts moving again."

Suddenly, the door to the engine room banged open and Mance was knocked down by the swinging door. The gnomes head hit the corner of a chair leg and he cried out. "You stupid dog!" Mance snapped. Blood was coming from his head wound and he flinched when he touched it.

"Where's that Tablet?" Gregard slurred. The smell of alcohol rolled off him like a wave. He had obviously been drinking heavily. His thick body fur was also standing up all over, making him look three times as big, and his red sunglasses were crooked, showing his glowing yellow wolf-eyes. "I don't need to be a train conductor my whole life if I get that thing. I can sell it or something, make myself a fortune. Give it to me, old woman!"

Ninnevah opened her mouth to tell Gregard to back off, but he growled and pounced before she could, in full animal mode. He violently knocked her on her back and the Tablet flew out of her robes, sliding out of the open train doors...and bumping against Katarina's ankles.

 

The dust and heat of the failing town scraped against the bare skin of Katarina's face. It had been a while since she had been in this town, but remembered the brutality of its residents when its traditional beliefs were questioned. A socially engineered demographic of intolerance to perspective. They were voracious when it came to unifying the views of its populace, stomping out anything opposing as they did their sick or crippled horses. She made a profit here, at least during the years of good harvest. Judging from the deserted aura, it had been a while since such luck. Maybe traditions abandoned them, maybe they were never there for the people in the first place. Katarina didn't really care, she had more of a mission to focus on, rather than the fate of a town dying in its own stubbornness.

"You coming to the Ritual Feast?" he asked bluntly. "We could use all the help we need to call Goddess Abundaya. Our crops are suffering from widespread rot. None of our remedies can reverse the damage, so we're gathering foods to throw in a ceremonial bonfire, in hopes Abundaya will grant us a blessing."

As the old man approached, her suspicions were confirmed. They were lost voices praying to a silent observer for deliverance, but fell on deaf ears. She stared up at elderly character and his grandson, but didn't say a word. Time shouldn't be wasted on lost causes. The boy argued points of reason, and the old man shot them down on principle. Katarina looked down and shook her head. It was just as she remembered. That boy was in for a world of hurt when he got older. In a town like this, you don't want to stand out or be heard. That would attract people like me, she thought, and not everyone costs so much to do the deed.

As the priestess came out, Katarina quickly took her silent leave and headed for the bar. It looked deserted, but she could feel the eyes in the background. There was always someone watching.

Crashing could be heard from inside the train as the old woman came out. Katarina flipped her hair back and looked behind, poised to run quickly. She remained in the shadow of the bar as to not be seen clearly. The gnome came out angry and bleeding, followed closely by the wolf man hungry for blood. She looked at them in disgust. She remembered the Roland, and how he tossed her like a rag doll. She remembered skewering him, and leaving him to die. She pictured the other wolves she brought down over the years, every one of them was a struggle. But this one looked off balance, and poorly timed, as if he had drank through the night. The fur prickled, and she could see the charge.

"Where's that Tablet?" Gregard slurred. The smell of alcohol rolled off him like a wave. He had obviously been drinking heavily. His thick body fur was also standing up all over, making him look three times as big, and his red sunglasses were crooked, showing his glowing yellow wolf-eyes. "I don't need to be a train conductor my whole life if I get that thing. I can sell it or something, make myself a fortune. Give it to me, old woman!"

Katarina shot her left hand out, and started to yell for the old woman to jump to the side, but the words never made it. She wasn't very good at the helping others gig. The wolf rammed her with his body-weight and sent her flying. Katarina remembered broken ribs, puncture wounds, dislocated shoulders, and a variety of other injuries from the creatures. They were strong beasts, and had a blood-rage like few other of the "socially acceptable" animals. This one was no exception. Everything went primal at some point. Sometimes she preferred the clarity in the task at hand when things like this happened. It gave her justification to show her true nature.

She dug in to the sand and began her charge before the animal could grab the prize, or eat the woman. Katarina drew both daggers from her sides, flinging one sideways at the tablet, and accurately throwing the other at the right knee-joint of the wolf man. She had learned, you have to slow the creatures down to keep up with their fighting spirit. She drew the third blade from the slot behind her back, just above the waist, and flipped it to her right hand facing down, preparing for an upward slash. Her steps were silent, but thundered in her mind. They were slightly out in preparation for a quick juke. Wolves were powerhouses like the train when they got going in the right direction.

The first blade made it in time, with the butt of the handle smacking the tablet out of immediate reach from the wolf. The second still headed directly for the little slot behind the knee. She smiled through the charge. She could almost taste the blood. Her feelings of exhilaration while leaving the train were vilified. She already knew the fun was about to begin.

 

The Tablet skidded away and Gregard howled in fury as the second blade stabbed behind his leg in the weak spot. He instantly went down on one knee, but his head snapped around to glare at Katarina. His teeth had grown into long fangs that stuck out of his mouth and strings of saliva dripped from the sharp tips.

"I will eat you for a snack, little girl," Gregard growled darkly. As she neared he grabbed Mance by the leg and threw him at Katarina. Mance was too disoriented from getting his head banged to fight back and went flying through the air straight for the rogue.

"You'll pay for that," Priestess Ninnevah promised. She started to raise herself up, hands lifting, silver magick shining out from her fingers.

"No sorcery," Gregard barked. Then he lunged and pushed her back down, his claws piercing flesh. Ninnevah slammed back to the ground with bloody punctures on her torso. Bright red flowers blossomed on her desert robes.

"Bastard," Ninnevah gasped, eyes blinking rapidly in pain.

 

The dance of a battle was all about smoothness in motion and confidence in action. Wild flailing and fear would get you get you killed in an instant.

Katarina slid straight on her knees through the sand, pointing her toes out back. No point dug deep enough to slow her momentum too great. Her back and head flattened low to avoid Mance as he soared involuntarily at her. Smooth as the sea glass at Mer BBay.as he passed completely over, she dug her toes in, causing her knees to dive. Momentum, and a slight twist, set Katarina up for a cartwheel, and back into a full sprint. She heard the priestess cry outing pain. Time was not on their side.

As the wolf focused down on the old woman, digging its claws deep, Katarina flung herself feet first into a jump over the wolf. She used her speed and body weight to dig the single blade into and across it's back. As the blade punctured the thick hide, in drug heavily across, until p]getting caught on the vertebrae. The yank on Katarina was expected, and as she was pulled down from her original motion, she used the back of the wolf as a spring board.

She hit the ground into a hard roll and flipped around as quick as possible. Katarina pulled out her last blade from her boot. The beast was highly injured for sure, but she didn't know if it was enough yet. Secretly, she hoped it wasn't.

Katarina panted, with a devilish smile on her face. Her teeth showed in a smile like a vampire set on exsanguinating its victim. She wanted more blood.

 

Gregard had not expected Katarina to attack so quickly and viciously. His dumb animal brain did not think more than a few steps ahead at a time and he had thought that throwing Mance was all that was needed. He screamed his rage when Katarina slashed him across the back, thrashing his beefy arms around to try to catch her and failing.

When she landed nearby, Gregard jerked in her direction but shocks of pain stalled his movements. The cut to his spine had caused serious nerve damage. As he was still growling and glaring hatefully at Katarina, trying to overcome his injuries, the priestess finally got to her feet.

"Powers of Destiny, I call to thee, take away his Future, trap him in this torture," Ninnevah chanted swiftly. Her eyes flashed platinum and Gregard went rigid like a statue, silver light frosting his shaggy fur. He didn't breath, blink, flinch - not even his heart was beating. Gregard was perfectly frozen in Time.

"Fucking beast," Ninnevah grumbled. She laid a hand flat on her chest and the bleeding holes made by Gregard's claws slowly healed. When that was done, she held out her hand and Merlin's Tablet flipped through the air before landing in her palm. She sighed heavily, massively relieved that the Tablet was back in her possession.

"That hurt," Mance the Gnome commented. He had flown off the train station platform and landed directly in the back of Grandpa's donkey cart. Carlton the teenager was already offering him a napkin to wipe at the blood, while Grandpa just looked annoyed.

"We survived," Ninnevah said to Katarina. She glanced at Gregard. "Now we just need to figure out what to do with him."

 

As the wolf froze in a paralytic state, the smile wiped from Katarina's face. She loosen all her muscles and stood up straight. A glove wiped the sweat and dirt from her face and behind her neck, as she stared at the dog's captured visage.

As she slowly blinked close, she strained her brow on her face and breathed in heavily. The thought of paralysis was a moot of hatred. Katarina remembered the Montague head, Visalius himself, and being frozen by his spells as she ran from him. Katarina was thirteen, and had seen the lust in evil's eyes.

Mid step to the stairway she had frozen in time. Cognizant of the world psychologically. She screamed as he spoke, and slowly closed the door, but no sound ever came out. She cried as the armor had been cut from her body, but no tears ever ran. And after it all, her body flexed and convulsed in hypertension as she was relieved of the paralysis. Her body curled up in a ball of despair, but her face was emotionless. The only thing in mind was hatred.

In the present, the assassin touched her amethyst rose, caressing each individual leaf. Every pedal was a member of the family she let die, or killed herself. The empty socket at the core was always for Visalius. She remembered at sixteen, the joy of the freshly cut head in her hands. She felt the pride as blood dripped from the ragged strips of flesh hacked apart by a small blade too small for the job. It had been an agonizing cut of garbled screams through blood. Katarina was usually one for quick deaths, seeing no benefit in lingering danger or loss of quarry, but she took her time there.

"Now we just need to figure out what to do with him."

Katarina quickly reopened her eyes and started towards the wolf. Its face and body rigid in anger and hunger. Wild dogs must be put down. She looked in disgust shortly, and then leaned in with the blade. Katarina reached under its massive head, placing the point of the blade to the opposite carotid. She looked up the priestess with one eyebrow raised, as if questioning the depth of how much the priestess would let happen.

"You don't let broken horse suffer in silence do you?"