The Wolf’s Daughter

The balloon dropped down onto what looked almost like something between a nest and an airship dock, though the only airship actually there was hers.

Though, the Transportation Pride had certainly seen better days, the balloon had a great hole through it and chunks of the wood had been torn out. They could… probably fix that. She hoped.

What worried her the most was how quiet it had become. There were feathers, rock and bits of straw scattered all about. A few torches had been lit, but they were few and far between.

“This is creepy,” Phaedra said. “Okay, time to—” The words caught in her throat when she realized the harpies were gone.

They’d slipped their harnesses. They must have done it when they were descending into the pit, just let them drift slowly down.

“Do you know where the crew is?” Phaedra asked.

“I do,” Lu Bu said. “But…”

“Emma is going to be with Arthur, isn’t she?” Phaedra asked.

Lu Bu nodded.

“I don’t suppose the rest of the crew would be with him?” Phaedra asked.

“He’d be in the highest room,” Lu Bu said. “He’s… a dangerous one, though. Crazy. Don’t underestimate him. Even if he can’t fly, it doesn’t mean he won’t be deadly.”

“Can you get everyone else out?” Phaedra asked.

“Of course,” Lu Bu said. “But there might be something else coming.”

“There probably is,” Phaedra said. “And I’m trusting you to get to them to before it does, just like I’ll get to Emma before it does. Keep them safe. Highest room?”

“Highest room,” Lu Bu said.

“And wait, can’t fly?” Phaedra asked. “He is a harpy, right?”

“Yes,” Lu Bu said. “Trust me. You’ll understand when you see him.”

Phaedra nodded, though she couldn’t help but feel even more dread as she headed towards what looked like an entrance into the mountainous caverns. And she really wanted to prod him for more information on that ‘can’t fly’ part.

It was dark, with only occasional flickers of torches. She really didn’t like it, though. It was so quiet, though there were obvious signs that the harpies lived here.

There were also signs that the harpies just up and abandoned everything here moments ago.

Her howl was scary but it was NOT that scary.

Was it? Was all that had to happen was that they had to be pushed back on a bit? Was it really that easy?

Phaedra shuddered as she walked through the halls. There were lots of little round hooks and wooden bars for them to grip with their talons and latch onto.

Lots of dried blood at points as well. Thick cuts in the walls, they looked like they’d been cut there by a sword.

Phaedra froze when she passed a room. Her ear twitched and she cocked her head towards the side. She could hear it. Very soft, very short, very scared breathing.

Slowly, she made her way into the room… Eyes narrowed…

Her hand clenched at her side and she looked at the table. A trap? An ambush? She took a step forward and--

Movement from her right. The figure charged at her, talons out, as her claws moved to tear them--

Phaedra barely retracted her claws in time, instead catching the talons in the air and slowing her strike as best she could. Even then, she quickly cast a spell and the stone wall the child was launched into softened and wrapped around him, dropping him on the ground a moment later.

A child. He stared up at her with terror, but he looked determined and about ready to get up again. She sniffed the air before sighing. “Phaedra,” she finally said.

“W-what?” the child asked.

“If any other demons find this room? Tell them Lady Phaedra has come and will deal with you personally, and are not to lay a hand on you,” Phaedra said. “Otherwise? Just keep hiding. We’ll be gone soon.”

“But there was a howl…” the child said softly. “There’s a wolf demon out there…”

“It won’t hurt you,” Phaedra said before she left the room, shaking her head. Why were there children here? Lu Bu hadn’t mentioned children. Had Lu Bu even known? Probably not. It wasn’t like the harpies would have paraded them out in front of him.

She shoved those thoughts aside and kept walking. She really hoped there wouldn’t be any more surprises. She swore if she found out Arthur was a child or something she was going to have a lot of rather vicious words with Lu Bu about what was important to let her know.

The halls seemed to be getting more narrow as she went, which admittedly surprised her. The harpies, she imagined, should have loved the wider halls. Sure, they were still many times wider than the halls of her own home, but they were getting narrower. She probably could have swung from those hooks down the halls if she were so inclined at this point.

She had to give them credit for being somewhat clean, at least. While they had the stray feather here or there, the halls were kept mostly clean. There were a few decorations on the walls, even some portraits, but they were quite spacious. If they’d had more clutter, she’d have feared an ambush.

Now? It just made everything seem more hollow and empty. It felt like she was walking through a tomb. Though she couldn’t imagine who’s.

A moment later she DESPERATELY wished that thought hadn’t hit her. Because when she stepped into one of the rooms she got to see another decoration, a statue of her. Well, not of her, of him. Of Medon. She didn’t know which she hated more. The fact she instantly recognized it, or that it was here. She slowly walked towards it, looking it over a few times just to be sure she was right.

It was a statue of Medon. “Ahhhh, the wonderful, miserable Hero from Another World,” Phaedra said softly. She looked the statue up and down. He stood there, his sword out, pointed up. One leg in front of him, raised on a rock. The other back. He’d been told it made him look majestic. Even now she thought it made him look ridiculous. His face firm, stern, focused. Determined.

How many days had he been here when this statue was made? Five, six? Had he even met all his friends yet? No, she didn’t think so. They were still ‘celebrating’. Oh, the great hero was here. Surely he’d save us. Fenrir, the great world ending monster, would be stopped. Well, in a way she supposed she’d succeeded. She’d slowed him down, if nothing else. His desire to protect her had at least limited his ability to progress at times.

But he’d never truly been the world ending threat, there hadn’t BEEN a world ending threat, as far as she knew. It had all been some big sham. She’d been another pawn in that monster’s game. She’d been so innocent and naive then. She’d been told how easy it would be, the powers of Medon would make this easy. Just do as she was told and it would be easy. Choose the names that resonated mostly with her.

It always did amuse her how much the names she ended up choosing seemed to disturb everyone else. Perhaps that should have been another sign something was wrong. Atlas, Eve and Lilith. The names had been the only ones that had been really familiar of the ones she could pick from. So they’d been the ones she’d chosen.

In the end, it had all been a flurry of signs and missed warnings. “None of this was easy,” she muttered. She thrust her hand forward, forming a claw and using it to tear the statue in half, cleaving through it with ease.

The celebration had ended in sadness and misery, like so many others had. Rather than the ‘great powers of Medon the hero’ being shown to all, she was a disappointment who had gotten dozens of people killed and had never managed to even begin to make up for her failures before she had finally perished. She didn’t know why anyone would keep that statue, but the fact they didn’t use it as a decoration in an outhouse showed her that they didn’t understand how useless it really was. She started walking again, shaking her head.

Her concern only grew when she came to a portrait of Medon. That, mercifully, she couldn’t identify the source of, but there had been countless made.

It grew even more when she passed a second one.

Oh by the gods. Arthur was one of her fans. His fans. Was someone who respected and cared about Medon. For a fleeting moment she wondered if, possibly, Arthur could be Lilith, but then cast the idea aside. There was no way that Lilith could have gotten these things, nor would Lilith have started attacking Roothome like that. Why in the world would a harpy be a fan of Medon? For the life of her she could only remember a handful of times he’d ever met harpies who could have had anything even approaching a positive interaction with him. Perhaps the harpy had been a part of one of the towns he’d offered aid to in trying times?

Either way, it didn’t excuse what he was doing here. People were dying because of his actions. But if he really was a big fan of Medon, maybe she could negotiate with him, make him realize that this was definitely NOT something Medon would want. Repeatedly assaulting and isolating Roothome, imprisoning and enslaving everyone he could get his talons on.

She stopped when she came to a pair of double doors at the top of the long, rising tunnel. She cocked her head slowly to the side before reaching out with both hands and giving it a firm, solid push.

Both doors opened so hard that they crashed back against the walls and she cringed. Right. Harpies. Their doors were lighter. Phaedra stepped into the large room before pausing. The room was only slightly illuminated from moonlight from the single large, open window dominating one side of the room. However, even with the airflow one smell was prevalent above all.

Blood.

She smelled blood.

“Lu Bu,” a voice said, making her freeze in place. “I suspected you’d betray me in the end. But I didn’t think you’d bring a wolf to my home.”

“I’m not Lu Bu,” Phaedra said. Something about that scent was familiar and she didn’t like it.

“Hmmm? So he didn’t betray me?” the voice asked. “I see. That makes this display such a waste, doesn’t it?” There was a loud creaking and then she could see a head poke out from behind a large… she wasn’t sure what it was, to be honest. Maybe the back of a chair? It was square, possibly, but in the darkness it blended in so well with the wall she could barely see it. A golden eye peered at her before disappearing once more. “A sheep. Go. Get your master. I’ll wait. I trust the others have already cleared the way.” It seemed to be the only furniture in the room, unless she counted the plethora of hooks and wooden posts lodged in the ceiling and along the walls. She wondered just how the room looked when it was full, did the harpies hang from the hooks and stand on the posts, or did some of them dangle under them like bats? She really wished she could think more about that than the blood.

“Cleared the way?” Phaedra asked. “Everyone else has fled, they—”

“Fled? No,” the voice said once more. “Left. They know better. The elves are his, the dryads are ours, but the wolves? The wolves are Medon’s.”

Phaedra couldn’t help but take a long, deep breath at that. That was certainly a sentence right there. “Medon died over a hundred years ago.”

“Facing the Wolf, I know,” the voice said. “But his spirit, his purpose, lives on. That’s why your master is here, isn’t it? Or did Houdini promise him something in return? No, a howl like that… that was a howl of war. A wolf like that knows they will only find death here. Isn’t that right?”

Then there was a shriek of pain. EMMA’S shriek of pain.

“EMMA!” Phaedra yelled, dashing forward.

She froze when the head peered back around the chair once more. “Emma… Yes, that was the name Lu Bu gave the mouse as well. But you are not him. Did your master slay him or not?”

“Funny story, that,” Phaedra said, her fists clenched at her side. If only she could see around the chair. Was that blood Emma’s? The more she thought about it, it did smell mousy. “Houdini sent me here, actually.”

“Did he now?” the figure asked before his head disappeared back behind the chair. “Why would he send a sheep?”

“The statue of Medon, that’s yours, isn’t it?” Phaedra asked. “Did you meet Medon?”

“Once,” the voice said. “Long… long ago. I was a different person, then…”

Phaedra struggled, desperately, to resist saying that so was she. “Because I have information about him. I’ve met with his former allies, the Ascended Dragon and the elf, Lilith.”

“Why would they know a demon of any kind, let alone a sheep?” the voice asked.

“Because they—”

Her words were drowned out by Emma’s scream and Phaedra couldn’t help herself. She dashed forward again, this time not stopping even when the head peered around the chair. “… Demons truly are liars, aren’t they?” the man asked. “Very well… I have no more use for this.”

A moment later Emma flew out from behind the chair, towards the open window.

Phaedra didn’t hesitate, she reached out with her magic, gripping Emma in it and teleporting the mouse to her side, only to snatch her out of the air when she appeared.

Almost instantly she regretted it when she saw the state the mouse was in. She pulled back, holding the mouse against her and kneeling down by the entrance of the room, placing her as gently as she could on the floor.

Emma was covered in lacerations, her right ear was missing, one of her eyes were closed and she didn’t dare touch it to find out how severe it was. Her right hand had been pierced through entirely. Her right foot was bleeding so heavily she couldn’t even tell what condition it was in. Those were just the obvious wounds, as well.

“I’m so sorry,” Phaedra whispered to her. “I’m going to get you out of here, I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

“How did you do that?” the voice asked.

Emma just looked at her with her one working eye, dazed and confused.

“Why did you torture her?” Phaedra asked, clenching her firsts. She felt that fury rising in her her. She wanted to tear him apart. To make him pay for every single mark. How DARE he hurt her like this.

“She fancied herself a master of the blade,” the voice said before giving a laugh. “I amused myself by teaching her while I waited for Lu Bu’s return. Where is your master?”

“I AM that master!” Phaedra said, snarling at him. “It was my howl you heard, my—”

The rest of the words died in her throat when the sound of metal struck stone echoed in the room. The figure rose up on the back of the chair, holding a sword that glowed with a white light.

It took her a moment to realize she knew that sword. She’d seen that sword only a short time ago.

Medon’s sword, wreathed with white flames. “H-how?” Phaedra asked, staring at it. “That… that sword… it’s… Fenrir destroyed it. Why?”

“The sword that was broken… but now, through me, it hunts again! ALL WOLVES WILL PERISH AT THE HANDS OF ARTHUR AND WOLFBANE!”

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