Pressed Violet Ch. 03

Author's Note: The conclusion to Pressed Violet. I hope you all enjoy the tale.

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3

The Morrigan Calls

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It wasn't quite dawn, but movement pulled Aedwen from her sleep. The scent of sex still filled her home, but her bed was empty. Blinking and rubbing sleep from her eyes, she looked across the room to see Riona pulling on her boots, her trousers already on.

Aedwen sighed, propped herself up on an elbow. She knew what this meant, but forced herself to enjoy the topless beauty.

Riona's looked over, and smirked. She took a moment to stretch, to display the muscles of her form perfectly, her fingers curled as she flexed her arms.

"Better than any huscarl," Aedwen said, and Riona laughed, before she took up the long cloth she used for her bindings.

"Let me help," Aedwen said, and climbed out of bed, bare feet patted across the floor boards as she took the strip of linen. She wanted so badly to take her time, to savour this moment as she had the ones last night. Instead she quickly but carefully wrapped the linen around her lover and tied it off.

"Thank you," Riona said before she pulled on her tunic.

Taking a step away, Aedwen watched her lover don her mail with its wolf pelt. The belt with her sword was next. Riona pulled her hair back and was about to braid when Aedwen stepped forward again. Riona's lips barely curled this time though her hands fell to her sides, thumbs slipped under her belt.

Aedwen worked carefully with three sections of hair, intertwining them together before she took a piece of string to tie it off near the end.

"My warrior," Aedwen said, and Riona looked back.

For a few heartbeats there was a stillness between them, until Riona leaned forward and let her lips brush against Aedwen's. Then, she stepped away and out into the cresting light of the dawn.

"God. Please," Aedwen said as she put a hand over her mouth.

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With purposeful strides, Riona walked from Aedwen's home to the group of villagers that had volunteered to fight. They stood near the gates, axes, pitchforks, and hunting bows in hand. The five proper warriors among them, clad in mail with metal helmets upon their heads.

As Riona approached, Maetheld came to meet her, the woman's face concealed by a mask. Above them, dark clouds rolled across the sky, and everyone glanced upwards. As the sun began its rise above the horizon, it was hidden behind a shroud of grey. As morning's light turned to dark once more, lightning flared within the clouds.

"It seems God himself has come to watch," Maetheld said as she stopped before the witch, a rumble of thunder rumbled through the heavens.

"Yours or mine," Riona said. Maetheld crossed herself as the first few drops of rain fell from the skies.

"God forgive me, I pray it's yours. Come," Maetheld said, leading Riona towards the gates, and the impromptu platforms they'd all built over the past few days. Nothing that would hold against a proper army, but perhaps against a band of murderers.

The villagers struggled to meet the eyes of the witch among them, superstition still clung to them. Riona ignored it all, and climbed up onto one of the platforms and looked out over the fields before them to the forest beyond. The same forest she'd limped from a few days ago.

"Tancred snuck out before dawn. These brotherhood might be an army, but they are no warriors. Undisciplined. He found them quick enough, says they should be here soon. They were packing their camp as he left them," Maetheld said as a fork of lightning lanced down and struck across the river. The villagers gasped almost as one and Riona took a deep breath as she looked up to see a raven flying across the sky.

"Here they come," Riona said as she brought her eyes back down in time to see figures in white robes moving through the trees. In their hands, axes and clubs as always. Their hoods pulled up over their head as they moved out into the open while the skies properly opened up, and rain poured over the battlefield.

"Archers," Maetheld said, and Riona almost winced; these people weren't archers, they were hunters.

Still they listened, clambered up onto the platforms and peaked over the walls. They all pulled arrows from their quivers. From the forest, monks kept marching. One eased his way to the front, a long staff in his hands, a cross carved of wood at its end. He held it up high for all to see as another bolt of lightning struck across the river.

"That's a lot of murderers," Maetheld said as she pulled her sword from its scabbard.

"They're still just men. They die the same," Riona said and Maetheld nodded as the lead monk stopped but thirty paces from the gates of the town.

The man looked at Riona with a sneer, before he held his cross aloft once more.

"Good people, do not forsake God lest he forsake you. Do not condemn your souls for this witch," he said, loud enough to be heard by all. The villagers looked among each other, whispers hidden by the wind fluttering between them. Here, now, doubt was creeping into their minds. Their souls.

"Give me your bow," Maetheld said, and Riona raised an eyebrow as she looked over to see the Saxon woman taking a bow from one of the villagers as the monk continued to rant. The others behind him slowly advanced, hands flexing around the hafts of their weapons. At the back, Riona spotted a few with bows.

Maetheld took the bow, nocked an arrow and drew back. The monk spread his arms wide and laughed.

"Satan cannot defeat God," he shouted.

"This is for Meredith you fuck," Maetheld shouted and released her fingers. The bowstring snapped forward and the arrow flew to pierce the monk's shoulder. He cried out as the arrow sank into his flesh, but he quickly regained his composure.

"As I said heretic, Satan, cannot, defeat God," he called again. The villagers openly stared, and doubt spread like poison among them.

Riona pulled her sword free and pointed it to the monk who only laughed as crimson flowered from his wound. Riona lifted a hand, and squeezed her fingers shut into a fist.

A bolt of lightning struck the monk's chest. The bright flare snapped between others, their screams filled the air as flesh sizzled, and veins burst from skin in sprays of blood.

Maetheld's eyes widened as a dozen brothers dropped to the ground. Those still alive squirmed in the wet grass, their blood poured from their torn skin, rain sizzled on their bodies, and smoke rose from the wounds.

"Archers now," Maetheld shouted as the brotherhood army charged forward. Some slipped and fell in the grass, but most kept their footing.

Until the first volley of arrows tore into them. Men fell, grasped at the shafts that pierced them, tripped their comrades as the villagers nocked another set of arrows and loosed. Doubt was gone now as they sent death from over their walls. More and more monks fell, and their blood flowed over the grassy field. Their archers at the back raised their bows.

"Cover," Maetheld called.

Riona and most of the villagers ducked down behind the walls, the warriors lifted their shields. The brotherhood arrows sank into wood, but from a few screams they found flesh as well.

"Keep firing," Maetheld called as Riona got back up, whispering under her breath as she shot her hand out. Arrows sailed through the air, loosed from either side and finding flesh. The villagers simply did not have the numbers, and after seven of them lay dead upon the ground the others hid. Screams of terror ripped above the sound of rain as bows fell from their hands.

Maetheld stared at them, and glanced over the wall as the first of the brothers reached the gate. She ducked back down as an arrow broke upon her helmet, scratching the metal.

"Bastards," she muttered and looked to Riona, still standing, unstruck, her brows furrowed. Below axes began to chop into the gates, and the four warriors still on the ground linked their shields together to stand ready.

Then Riona's fingers opened and fresh screams sounded from the field. Maetheld dared to look over and her eyes widened behind her mask.

"Mary, mother of God," she said.

Branches had spread from within the ground, they climbed up the walls, over the gates, and over the monks below. They burrowed into flesh, wrapped around bone, and pulled taught. One man's ribs were broken and pulled out from his chest. Another opened his mouth to scream only for plants to clamber up from his throat and break his jaw as they emerged in a stream of blood. So many were slaughtered by the spell, held aloft by the barrier of vines and branches that sprouted from the ground, their figures twisted into a mockery of human shape as joints were cracked and broken. The rain was unable to hide the stench of blood and shit.

"Kill the witch," someone yelled, and Riona wasn't sure if it was outside or in. An arrow scraped along her arm and finally she ducked down as more monks came forward with axes to hack at the new barrier before them.

"Steel now," Riona said to Maetheld and looked past the warrior to the villagers. They were huddled behind the walls, and clutched at their weapons until knuckles were white. With wide eyes they kept looking at the top of the wall, and back to Riona. Maetheld followed the look and nodded.

"Back. Back to the hall," she called, and terrified villagers looked to her; they had not been ready. Especially not for what Riona had called upon.

Beyond the wall, the sound of hacking axes carried even as thunder rumbled through the sky. Within moments the gates began to shake as axes hacked into the wood once again. The Anglo-Saxon warriors steadied themselves as the first glint of steel broke through the barrier.

"Go, now," Maetheld shouted, and some of them began to move. They stumbled, but they moved. One or two paused to grasp at their friends, to pull them along up to the village's hall. Some could not tear their eyes from those laying on the ground with arrows jutting from their flesh. Blood streamed from their bodies, carried along the paths by the rain.

"If we fall..." Riona said quietly.

"I know," Maetheld said and looked towards the gate as an axe head punched through with a spray of splinters.

"With them gone, the bastards will be able to just move around the barricades," Riona said and pointed with her thumb over her back at the retreating villagers.

"I know," Maetheld said as another axe punched through the gate. The wood was full of holes now, the monks behind easily seen as they grunted and hacked.

"Then, we make them die here," Riona said, and turned back to face the gates.

Riona levelled her blade towards the gates, and brought the pommel back until it nearly touched her shoulder. She placed her palm flat on the blade and waited, watched.

The gate burst open, and the zealots charged in. The Anglo-Saxon warriors tensed themselves, and Riona let out a shout as she slid her hand down the blade. Flames flickered along her fingers before a crow of green fire shot outwards. It soared above the linked shields before her and flew into the face of the first monk and burst. Embers shot outwards, and landed on the robes of others.

The man couldn't even scream as his face melted down to the skull. Smoke rose from the blackened bone as he collapsed, others around him dropping as they desperately tried to put out the fire that consumed their garments and burnt their flesh.

More monks poured in through the opening. So blinded by hate they had no fear, and no compassion, they trampled their comrades into the ground. Axes and clubs smashed into the shields, and the four Saxon men grunted as they bore the brunt upon arm and shoulder. Their swords stabbed over the top rims of their shields, to sink into flesh and spill blood.

The village warriors tried to push forward, to push the brotherhood monks back into the tight confines of the gate. The swarm that smashed into their shield wall was already starting to overwhelm them. Their boots dug into the mud, as their swords stabbed again and again. Crimson dripped from steel as a mound of bodies formed before them.

Still the monks rushed forward. An axe split through the steel rim of one shield and down the planks. The man named Ulfred plunged his sword forwards only for another axe to hit his arm. He screamed in pain though the axe didn't break through the mail, and his sword fell from numbing fingers.

Maetheld moved forward, and Riona let loose another crow of fire that hit a man's chest. The flames burned through cloth and flesh to his ribs. His lungs and heart fell as ash from a gaping wound, and his body was thrown aside by the monk behind.

Replacing Ulfred's place in the formation, Maetheld caught the next blow on her shield and plunged her sword down into the zealot's knee. She struck her attacker with steel rim, as Ulfred tossed his ruined shield aside. He flexed his fingers as he searched the ground for another weapon and found a wood axe discarded by the peasants.

A forceful strike sent one of the warriors stumbling back. The monks surged into the break, and forced Tancred off to the side. A club struck the side of his head and he stumbled to the ground despite his helmet.

"Hold them," Maetheld tried to yell, and Riona threw another fire crow forwards. She caught a man in the shoulder, the fires still burned down into his chest.

A chill was creeping through her fingers, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to bring forth much more. She ran to Tancred's side while he picked himself back up, shield left in the mud. Her blade swung upwards, severed an arm at the elbow before a new blow could land upon the warrior.

"Kill the witch," the shout came from the frenzied crowd, and three of them came at Riona at once.

"Fuck," Riona muttered as she steeled herself for the oncoming assault.

She caught the haft of an axe with the flat of her sword and twisted her blade upwards and hit the head. The weapon was yanked from the monk's hand to land behind her in the mud as she struck a second in the temple with her pommel. The monk's eyes rolled back as he stumbled to his knees. Her next strike the tip of her blade cut through robes and along the chest of the third. She felt the steel bouncing along ribs before she drove her knee into the jaw of the second man. Blood and teeth burst from his mouth as he fell back. Dazed he couldn't get up before two corpses fell atop him.

Riona paused long enough to smash her heel down on the bridge of his nose. His head bounced, and whether dead or unconscious, Riona couldn't bring herself to care. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose and looked at the chaos about her.

Getting to his feet, Tancred shoved his sword into a zealot's side. It caught in the man's ribs and he was forced to abandon his weapon, and quickly threw a fist that hit another man's eye.

The head of an axe struck Tancred's gut, and doubled him over. Riona lunged at his attacker, but was tackled from the side. She drove her elbow against the monk's ear, then scrambled out from under him. Her boot soon crashed onto his throat, and the man grasped at it, unable to breath. Riona turned in time to see the axe come down on the back of Tancred's neck. Blood spurted from the impact and his body went limp immediately. A second strike took his head off in a gush of crimson and Riona let out a shout, while her free hand shot forward.

Cold spread from her fingers to her hand, and branches shot up from the earth and into the executioner's gut. Throwing her hand out wide, the branches burst from his stomach. Entrails spilled to the ground as the branches impaled others around him. The cold though had reached her wrist. Flexing her fingers, Riona didn't have time to rest, and turned to catch a strike aimed at her shoulder.

One of the other warriors was pulled away from the others. The man screamed as he was dragged over bodies, his sword flailed at the monk holding him. A planted foot trapped his blade against the ground as Riona slammed her blade forward and through the face of another zealot. She had to kick the twitching corpse off, brain falling in bloody globs as she hacked her way through the crowd.

An axe rose and fell, again and again on the fallen warrior's elbow. He screamed as the mail began to snap, as blood seeped through gambeson and the links. Riona threw her hand out, and men around her grasped at their faces as a milky film filled their eyes. Blind, they were easy to cut through, but the fallen warrior was grasping at the stump of his arm as a club smashed into his face. Again, and again, until even his helmet cracked and his skull caved.

Riona's eyes widened at the sight of a second man who died for her. The brief instance of guilt snapped under a torrent of rage as she launched herself to the next monk.

Maetheld's roar of fury sounded over the crash of metal and sundering of flesh. Her blade sprayed blood around her as she cut and hacked into her foes. Ulfred slammed his axe into a man's skull, split it in two before a club hit his shoulder and forced him to release the weapon. He turned and bore the man to the ground, curled fists striking again and again. The other warrior had his shield with both hands, smashed it into zealots and knocked them to the ground.

"The crows feast well tonight," Riona shouted before she ducked a wide swing at her head. The axe struck another monk in the chest, and the witch rose with the point of her blade to slam it up under the zealot's chin and into his skull. A sharp pull had the blade free with a torrent of blood.

Blood smeared over her face, Riona looked to the gates. More of the bastards were still coming. Flexing her fingers she shot out her hand again, and the cold jolted up to her shoulder. Thunder roared around them as crows descended from the skies. They let out their cries as the monks and Saxons alike stared upwards at the diving swarm.

Beak and talon tore into flesh and the monks flailed and dropped their weapons to stop the assault. Not one of the Saxons were touched.

"Push them back," Maetheld shouted to her two remaining warriors and lunged forward, leading with her shield. Ulfred charged forward with his axe, and took a zealot's head as his comrade stabbed another in the throat.

Behind them, Riona flexed her fingers, and looked down to see the black creeping up her skin from under her bracers. She closed her eyes a moment, breathing slow, and tried to push back the effects of the magic while the sounds battle filled her ears. She shut it all out in her attempts to recover.

"Look up," a familiar voice whispered in her mind.

Pain flared through her shoulder and Riona let out a scream as her eyes snapped open. An arrow had punched through her mail and into her flesh. She saw an archer standing upon one of their platforms. His face was torn and bleeding and one eye had been plucked out but he was already nocking another arrow while his comrades were hacked down by the three standing warriors.

"Shit," she muttered in Gaelic, and started to move towards the ladder that led up, already muttering another spell, though each word caused the cold to seep further along her shoulder. The pain in her shoulder dulled to a harsh ache.

Rion threw her hand out, and the arrow tilted in her flesh. SHe grit her teeth, and let the magic flow out from her fingers as the archer released. The arrow slammed into her chest just as the cold reached it and Riona stumbled back. The flame crow she'd thrown hit the man's face, sent him tumbling back over the wall and into the vines that had grown up the wall.

The coppery taste of blood in her mouth, Riona winced as she looked down at the two shafts protruding from her. She spat blood and almost laughed as she fell to her knees. Blood bubbled around the arrow in her chest, and frothed from her lips in pink as she sat on her heels. Before her the last of the zealots were being cut down, but she couldn't see if any had let fear break their hatred, or if they all died at the walls of this village they had meant to defile.