Northern Oracle

Norden was the head of the snake. Without him, the coalition would shatter, and inter-tribal strife would tear the Yornish horde apart. He had to die. Not for Erabus, not for her pride, but for those millions.

Varia found she could reverse time as easily as watching it play out. It was simplicity itself to halt and reverse the flow and, like putting her hand on a globe and spinning it back the other way. The Yornish retreated from Maruba back the way they had come, and a city grew from the ashes. She located the moment the battle in the north ended, the moment she had toppled into the ravine, and allowed time to move forward at its natural pace. She saw herself enter the cave of the Northern Oracle. Strangely curious, she tried to follow herself inside, but her vision grew foggy. That place was denied to her.

Swinging her focus back above the ravine, Varia watched the Yornish host gather and make camp for the night, sorting the spoils and counting the dead. Norden's tent was easily identified by its size and the blood-red flag flying above it. Focusing in, she saw the reaver-king exit his tent, waving off his retainers with an angry gesture. He stalked to the edge of the camp and departed on his own across the snow. At the edge of the ravine the reaver-king stopped to gaze down, furtive eyes searching the canyon floor far below.

He's looking for me, Varia realized. He can't bear that I eluded him, that he couldn't have the prize he wanted to fuck so badly. As she watched, Norden began walking along the cliff's edge, never taking his gaze from the icicle-lined canyon. He stalked its length for hours, hunting for a way down. He thinks I survived. Or at least he hopes I did. I must have really made an impression.

An idea struck her like a beam of light. Time was meaningless in this state, and she was free to roam the ambit of her vision, replaying scenes endlessly. She followed Norden in the battle, studied his movements. He was a natural fighter, but he relied on his natural strength and speed. There was no grace, no subtlety. Now his weaknesses seemed obvious: the way he left himself open as he swung, the commitment his huge war-axe required. I can beat him.

For ages she watched him, till she knew his movements better than he knew himself. And when she was satisfied, she realized she could step back into linear time like stepping off a boat. She couldn't change the past, but she could find the moment her strand of time continued, and place herself there, at the top of the canyon, where she needed to be. Egress from the oracular state was as simple as opening her eyes.

So she opened them.

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Varia stood at the cliff's edge awaiting the reaver-king. The aurora above was joined by a tapestry of stars covering the dome of the sky, the moon looming large and sentinel-like above. Her armor and blade were restored, a final gift from the Northern Oracle, perhaps. She wouldn't pretend to understand their magic. It didn't matter, anyway, not so long as she did what she came to do.

In the dim light she heard the reaver-king's soft footfalls before she saw him. Soon enough Norden himself appeared, his immense form drifting gracefully across the earth, eyes questing over the canyon below.

The Yornish chief stopped when he saw the slender woman waiting for him in the snow, swishing her slim sword idly through the air. His eyes widened in surprise which quickly melted into mirth.

"You live," he announced loudly, and started moving towards her. His pace was unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "I was getting worried."

Varia said nothing. She only waited as the reaver-king drew closer. Somehow he seemed less imposing than in their first meeting. Where before she had seen an inhuman, indefatigable monster, now she only saw flesh and blood, as fragile and fleeting as any.

"I would tell you to throw down your weapon and submit," said Norden, "but I enjoy it so much more when they resist. Besides, you look ready for a fight. I'm going to knock you down and give you a fucking you'll never forget, right here in the snow." His flinty yellow eyes wandered over her luridly, and his brow wrinkled in confusion when he saw her lack of wounds. "How did you survive?" he asked, suddenly cautious.

"Survive a stupid, stinking piece of shit like you?" she spat, goading him. "Easy enough. You're just a dumb savage, Norden, big and brainless like all of your people. I heard a giant raped your mother, and that's why you're so stupidly huge. Is that true? Or does she fuck giants just for fun?"

Her words had the intended effect. Norden screamed at her with animal frenzy. Then he charged. Varia danced away from his axe, feeling the breeze as it sliced the air where she had just been. He attacked ferociously, but each stroke found only empty space. Muscles coiled and flexed beneath his thick arms, his speed increasing with his frustration, but Varia was always a step ahead. All of his movements were so obvious, so familiar now. She watched his feet, not his arms, and the way his weight shifted told her all she needed to know. Predicting him was simplicity itself.

The iron axe rent the air in a savage stroke, pulling its incensed wielder off balance. Varia's thin blade flashed through the air, piercing his exposed throat in a single precise thrust. Norden stumbled backwards, surprised, and attempted to bellow with rage. All that came out was a pathetic gurgle. Blood fountained from the wound, staining his furs. The axe slipped from his hands and he fell to his knees. It was over.

"You might think this is about revenge," said Varia evenly. "Well, in a way it is. You killed my friends, but you'll kill millions more if you don't die here."

Norden clasped a hand over his throat, vainly trying to hold in his life as it bled out, and furrowed his brow in puzzlement.

"I don't expect you to understand," said Varia. "I've seen the future. You could have toppled countless lords and laid whole nations to waste. You would have been a king of blood and ashes. That's why I had to kill you. But you should know..." she stopped, the words catching in her throat. Norden was gasping now, his face growing pale. Rage and fear and incomprehension melded together in his countenance. "The man you killed before I fell into the ravine. His name was Erabus. Erabus from Hearthkeep, a good soldier and a good man. I loved him. Didn't know how much until today. He and I could have had a life together. But you killed him. I want you to think about that while you die."

Her blade cut through Norden's furs and flesh like they were only soft snow, slipped between his ribs and pierced his heart as sure as iron finding a lodestone. The reaver-king gasped a final, rattling breath and toppled over dead. Varia wiped the blood from her sword and the tears from the corners of her eyes. Then, without sparing another moment for the dead Yornish chieftain, she turned to go. It was a long walk back to Hearthkeep, and she had no desire to be near Norden's corpse when his men found him.

As the sun began to peek over the horizon and warm the frozen earth, two wolves howled in the distance, their melancholy song echoing across the endless ice.