“You have many brave fighters,” said Tobias. “Which one do you choose?”
“I will fight,” said Mathilde. As soon as the words had left her mouth both Seb and Dash were by her side.
“Don’t do this Mathilde. I can’t lose you. Let Seb fight,” begged Dash.
For once Seb was in agreement with him. “You can’t fight Mathilde. Your crossbow will not be a help to you in this. We don’t have the agility of the Brotherhood. We win our battles through standing as a group. If we are to fight one on one then our best chance is me. If we can’t offer agility then we must offer strength. You are our leader Mathilde and we need to keep you safe so that you can lead us into battle.”
“And as your leader it is up to me to prove our worth. I will not send any of you into a fight I would not be willing to fight myself. Though it is not my weapon of choice I am accomplished with a sword Seb; you know that.”
“But Tilly...” a pleading note had entered Seb’s voice and his eyes reflected what looked to be fear or pain.
“No! I will not argue this. I am your Protector Superior and you will stand back and rejoin the group. Now!”
Seb looked at Mathilde in the eyes for a few seconds longer then nodded and went to join the other Protectors. They also began to protest but he shook his head at them and moved them to the safe side of the fire circle. Dash looked at Mathilde. She glared him a warning and he also moved back to where he had been standing, behind the fire circle but separate from the Protectorate.
Tobias nodded at Mathilde then addressed the crowd. “It shows great courage to put yourself in the path of danger to protect those who follow you. Our champion for the next Fire Dance shall be Mathilde Fiddell.”
The crowd cheered and Mathilde smiled at them. Something niggled at her stomach and she thought it nerves until she realised that it was the warning niggle of something being out of place. How had Tobias known her surname was Fiddell. Did he know of the prophecy? She racked her brains to think if there had been a moment where Dash had introduced her as such but none came. Then it was too late for thinking.
Tobias moved to the outside of the circle and the cage doors were pulled open. One of them splintered and flew into the crowd as the wendigo dashed out and leapt straight at Mathilde. Mathilde looked quickly around and found there were various weapons lying on the floor for her use. She grabbed a spear and held it up just in time to slow the wendigo’s progress. It jarred and threw her to the floor as the spear tip lodged in the wendigo’s shoulder. The wendigo grabbed the spear and ripped it out leaving a hollow wound which dripped blood. The iced blood of the wendigo froze the second it hit the ground and the blood on the fur and skin of the wendigo crystalised and glittered like rubies. Mathilde jumped to her feet and grabbed a sword. She slashed at the wendigo’s legs and managed to slice through the tendons at the back of one knee. The wendigo stumbled to its knees but reached out and sliced Mathilde’s arm from shoulder to elbow. If she survived it would be another icy wound which would scar and cause constant localised cold for the rest of her years. Mathilde dropped the sword she was holding and the wendigo moved in again, its face came closer this time, the human eyes shot hate at her and the teeth were almost close enough to bite her face. The wendigo sliced at her stomach, an instinct for the wendigo to go for the fleshy middle which held the intestines and the other offal meats they loved so much. Mathilde threw herself backwards and barely missed the slice. She fell on her knees and felt around on the floor for a weapon. She couldn’t find anything. Scrabbling backwards, her gaze fixed on the wendigo. She reached the edge of the circle and looked around. She grabbed a burning stick from the fire and flew at the wendigo with all of the hate and frustration of her years of prophesized fate in her. If she was going to die it would be with courage, not running away from the creature.
The wendigo was moving at a great speed towards her and they clashed in the middle of the circle. The wendigo grabbed Mathilde’s wrists and yanked her nine feet off the ground so that they were nose to nose. It tried to wrench her arms from the sockets but her blood made one of her arms slippery enough to free it from its grip and she plunged the burning stick deep into one of its eyes. A sizzling noise blended with the scream of the wendigo and the smell of burning fur and eye fluid made Mathilde want to vomit but she held fast. The wendigo kept hold of her still by one wrist and shook her like a rag doll but Mathilde used her free hand to wrench the stick free from the wendigo’s skull and thrust it into the beast’s stomach. It tore through the thin leathery skin and straight through the thin body, coming out the other side. The wendigo collapsed to the ground but Mathilde knew the fight was not over. Injuries that would kill a human merely slowed a wendigo. She scrabbled around the ground looking for a weapon and finally found a short sword. She crawled back to the wendigo, her arm now burning with the start of frostbite from the wendigo’s poisoned claws.
The wendigo writhed on the floor but tried to get up. Mathilde jumped astride its stomach and brought the sword quickly down to its chest. Hacking and chopping away while the wendigo bucked and clawed at her. She finally got through the chest wall and plunged her hand into the hole. Finding the tough but squashy heart she wrapped her fingers around it. She could feel it beating and yanked at it but it didn’t move. She looked around for the sword but it had slipped from view and she couldn’t afford the advantage she would lose if she moved from on top of the wendigo.
The wendigo bellowed and slashed at Mathilde once more. She tried to ignore the many blistering agonies as claws cut her flesh and she plunged both hands into the cavity. Linking her fingers around the heart she pulled again, putting her foot on the wendigo’s stomach for leverage. With a sickening, ripping noise the heart came away in her hands and she threw herself off the wendigo. For an impossibly long time the wendigo continued to writhe and slash before finally falling still and silent.
The crowd roared and Mathilde fell to lie on her back. She stared at the black sky, swimming with silver stars. They looked calm. She began to breathe again, not having realised that she had been holding her breath in the first place. The various cuts and slashes on her body began to sting and throb. She wondered how many injuries she had. Suddenly the stars and sky were replaced by the kindly bearded face of Tobias. He held out a hand to her. Heaving a sigh Mathilde stood up. Seb and Dash were already by her side, each with worried looks on their faces. She gave them a stern look and they backed off. She had just slaughtered a wendigo twice her size. Overprotective male posturing was not exactly needed.
“You fight well,” said Tobias.
“Though I am ashamed to say, not as elegantly as your Brotherhood do,” Mathilde said and looked at Costin who approached her to shake hands. He had very few injuries and very little damage or blood on his clothes. Looking down at herself and her shredded tops and pants she wondered if she really looked like she had taken a bath in blood as much as she thought she did from this angle.
“Ah but there is a time for elegance and a time for primal survival and each has their place in an effective army.”
“So that is what we are building?” asked Mathilde, hearing that word again. “An army?” She wondered who had started the idea of an army; her, Dash or Tobias?
“My dear it looks like one may be needed soon if General Zhu is truly as experienced in military warfare as we believe he is.”
Mathilde nodded in agreement. It seemed that, whoever’s idea it was, this was not something which would be resolved merely by un-coordinated fighting. War was looming.
Chapter Twenty One
Mathilde lay in the hospital room in the east corner of the settlement. It had taken an hour for her wounds to be cleaned and dressed. There had been no major damage but she had a lot of flesh wounds, enough to make her ache and sting all over. Seb sat by her bed not talking. He had been there for a good ten minutes and other than asking how she was had said nothing. It was driving Mathilde mad.
“Look did you just come in for me to wat
ch you staring at your hands? Sorry but I’m tired and aching and I could do with some rest.”
“Sorry Tilly. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I’ve never seen you like that before, fighting so close up. You were amazing. I can see now how you could have the fate of getting rid of the wendigo. How the prophecy could be right.”
“Shut up Seb.” Mathilde surprised herself with how sharply she had spoken. “We don’t even know what the prophecy is. Father never thought me important enough to share that information, and to be honest I don’t believe in prophesies anyway. My fighting was a mess. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“You should have seen it from our side Tilly. Seriously, it was like I didn’t even know you, I have never seen anyone fight that confidently.”
“Ha,” said Mathilde, deciding not to push the issue any further.
“Are you sure you trust Dash? I don’t like him Tilly.”
“Don’t start that Seb. You aren’t objective.”
“Maybe not. I love you Tilly. Did you know that? I am actually in love you and it is killing me but that isn’t why I don’t trust him.”
Mathilde couldn’t meet Seb’s eye; two proclamations of love completely out of the blue and both done in such terrible ways at such inappropriate times. She didn’t know how she felt about either one. Dash certainly made her tingle and she couldn’t stop thinking about him but could she love someone she didn’t trust? Seb had been in Mathilde’s life for as long as she could remember and if he were to disappear from it her heart would tear in two but was it any more than love for her best friend?
“I know and no I don’t trust him, even though I wish I did, but there is definitely a General Zhu, we knew that before we met Dash. This is the only lead we have. We have to go with it.”
“Ok. Just watch your back with Dash ok?”
“Yeah, course I will. Don’t worry about me.”
Seb reached over to squeeze Tilly’s hand. He looked at her face intently as he did, as if wondering whether to say something more. Mathilde felt a familiar shot of electricity up her arm, making her heart race. She enjoyed it for a moment before suddenly realising, with a jolt, that she was feeling it with the wrong person. This is how she felt with Dash not Seb. She had never felt this way with Seb. He seemed to read her face.
“Tilly...” he said, his voice full of hope.
“Mathilde,” came a deeper voice from the doorway, a Romanian accent thick with emotion.
Mathilde and Seb shot a look to the door and Mathilde felt instantly guilty even though she had done nothing wrong. Dash stared at them.
“Seb, how are you?” Dash asked.
“Fine. I was just leaving,” said Seb, not letting go of Mathilde’s hand. He stared a challenge at Dash then stood up, bending over slightly on his way to kiss Mathilde goodbye on the forehead. Mathilde tried to remain impassive and not to show that the kiss had the same effect as holding her hand had. Dash stared at Seb until he had left the room then he turned to Mathilde with an unreadable look which he quickly turned into a warm smile.
“I was worried about you,” he said, moving to sit beside the bed. He grasped Mathilde’s hand and absentmindedly stroked the inside of her elbow with his other hand. The familiar tingle came back, throwing Mathilde into an even greater state of confusion.
“I’m doing fine. I will be up and about by tomorrow and we can set to planning our next move.”
“It wasn’t that which worried me,” said Dash, sounding offended. “I couldn’t bear for you to get hurt. I meant what I said about loving you.”
Mathilde’s head span with pain, confusion and the heat of the room. She had heard that word so many times now that it had lost all meaning and she felt like screaming. She wasn’t even sure she understood what love meant anymore.
“If you are going to throw around words like ‘love’ you had better be sure that you mean them boy,” came a gruff voice from the doorway, “and you had better know that any love for you would always have to come second to duty.”
Mathilde’s head whipped towards the doorway. All fuzziness was gone from her mind at the sound of that voice, the soft but rough French Canadian accent which she hadn’t heard for many years. At the door stood a man who was tall and wide enough to fill the doorway. He had thick, long hair and a heavy blond curly beard. In front of him stood a more familiar figure - a girl with Mathilde’s eyes but darker skin, wearing the traditional clothes of the Cree tribe.
“Father... Fleur!”
Dash shot to his feet. “Mr Fidell, an honour to meet you Sir.”
“Young man, you may sit. I don’t stand on ceremony and you are not the one I am here to see.”
“You came to see me?” Mathilde felt trepidation at what this could mean for the damned prophecy. Was she about to find out more? A great weight threatened to settle on her shoulders and push all thoughts of love from her mind. At the same time she felt like a little girl, in the presence of the father she had only seen in dreams for a good many years.
“No my dear, I was here already when you arrived.”
Mathilde’s heart sank slightly. He was in Romania already and had made no effort to see her. He had no love for her, he cared only about the part she supposedly held in whatever fate was to come.
“But I watched you fight. I was proud. You were your father’s daughter.”
Mathilde’s heart leapt again. Her father had more power over her emotions than Dash or Seb could ever have and second only in importance to his love was his approval.
“Thank you Father.”
Fleur drifted over to Mathilde in the floaty, silent way that only she could. She hugged Mathilde gently but for a long time and Mathilde inhaled the smoky, eucalyptus and lavender scent of her silky hair. It reminded her of her mother and looking at Fleur’s face in the flesh she had begun to look more like their mother too.
“Have you learnt more about General Zhu?” she asked as she took a seat by Mathilde’s bedside.
“Yes,” Mathilde said before filling her sister and father in on what she had learnt from Dash. Jean Louis remained standing in the doorway, making Mathilde jumpy. Both Fleur and Jean Louis registered shock when they heard of the captives and a silent agreement was communicated with a slight nod from Jean Louis, that to rescue them was the right thing to do.
“But from what Dash says there are a lot of them, a lot more than there are of us. I don’t know how we can fight and win.”
“I may be able to help you with that,” said Jean Louis, finally coming to Mathilde’s bedside, “but not quite yet. I need another week or so.”
“I am not sure we have that long,” said Mathilde.”They know we’re here but for some reason they didn’t attack us when we were en route. Whatever the reason for that I’m sure that they will now either be strengthening their defenses or planning an attack. Either way we can’t afford to wait and give them the advantage.”
“We will discuss it tomorrow Mathilde, with a committee of some of the Brotherhood and the Protectorate. When you hear what I have to offer you may decide that to wait is the best option.”
Jean Louis and Dash both said goodbye to Mathilde in their own way, Jean Louis gruff and business like and Dash with a kiss that Mathilde felt was far too passionate to have given in front of her father. She saw Jean Louis glare at Dash as they left the room. Fleur stayed behind and stroked Mathilde’s hair as she fell into a deep sleep which was filled with suitors and wendigo. The small part of Mathilde’s brain which knew she was asleep was glad that she had kept on her moonstone pendant and that Fleur was nearby, watching over her in the dream plain to stop any wendigo spirit from finding her dream self in such a confused and emotional state and invading her soul.
Chapter Twenty Two
Mathilde dressed slowly. Though every part of her still hurt she was well enough to get out of bed. Once she was ready she made her way to the dining hall. Grabbing a filling breakfast of meat, cheese and bread she looked for a place to sit. Her fa
ther sat with Tobias and was deep in conversation, not even registering that she had entered the dining hall. Seb sat with the Protectorate and Dash sat alone. None of them saw as she entered the dining room and gathered her food. Each of them sat, absorbed in conversation or thought.
“Probably a blessing. It means we can talk.” A voice in Mathilde’s ear made her jump.
“Morning Fleur. Where did you disappear to this morning?”
“Ah I had spirit walks to do. I met with Violette to tell her what was happening. She sends her love.”
Mathilde couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of Fleur and Violette’s bond. Without the pressure of saving the world and with their shared ease with the spirit world they had always seemed closer to each other than Mathilde thought they felt to her.The sisters found a table in the corner of the room. Dash had seen Mathilde and had smiled hopefully at her but she gave a dismissive smile and sat with Fleur. Even as she did it she felt guilty and desperate to be with Dash instead but the doubts about him still tugged at the edges of her mind and she felt herself putting up a protective wall inside her brain to stop any pain before it began.
“So two men fighting over you eh? Don’t look at me like that, I have seen the way that Seb and Dash look at you.”
Mathilde sighed and prodded at her food. “They both claim to be in love with me.”
Fleur’s laughter pealed in the air. “A life without boyfriends and now two men are clamoring for your heart. That is priceless. So which is it to be?”
“I don’t know. I thought I was in love with Dash but I just can’t trust him. He keeps too much back, too many secrets. Seb... well I have known him forever. It would be so easy to slip into being with him but maybe I just think I like him because it would be comfortable and safe. Maybe I really shouldn’t bother with love. After all it would interfere with my destiny wouldn’t it?” Mathilde said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
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