The Fell War - Chapter 23 (Patreon)

It was warm. Usually, Alfre didn’t like to be warm but this was almost comforting. She blinked, seemingly waking from a long slumber, only to be met with darkness. Her body felt heavy, her limbs uncooperative as she tried to move them. Where was she? She was floating, but she could feel no water. The sky above her seemed to twinkle with distant stars. They looked like the stars over Siniy, but impossibly far away – even more so than stars usually were.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth. She felt like she should be panicking, but her body refused to do even that.

“I am sorry, Alfre.”

Alfre blinked, her body feeling lighter than it had just a moment before. She turned her head, her eyes catching sight of Abital floating beside her as if sitting on some invisible chair.

“What for?” she asked, her voice echoing in the empty space around her. And then she remembered. “Oh…I’m dead aren’t I?”

Abital nodded, his eyes full of regret.

“I won’t be for long, though, right?” Alfre questioned. “I’ll be back in a bit. Oh, but I’ll be in Siniy. That’s not good.”

Abital said nothing, only watching her with his sorrowful eyes.

“I won’t be able to get back and save my friends,” Alfre whispered, because saying it too loud would mean her friends would die. Saying it too loud would make it true. “I failed them, didn’t I?”

“You couldn’t have known,” Abital said, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to hold something back – probably tears.

“I knew it was a trap,” Alfre argued, turning back to stare up at the too-far sky. “I knew it and I led them right into it.”

“You couldn’t have known about the summer blade,” Abital amended. “It’s not your fault.”

Alfre couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. While that was technically true, she still felt responsible. Her friends were going to die, and it was because they’d trusted her. She never should have been put in charge of the army. She never should have been allowed to lead them into such danger. Summer would march on Heart and destroy it and there was nothing they could do to stop her. Just like Alfre could do nothing to stop the tears that spilled over her cheeks.

“I wish I was stronger,” she sobbed. “I wish I was strong enough to protect them. All of them. Spica and Elias and Izo and Ran and Hadi and Canus and Wally and Beira and Traveler and Ran and Silver and June and Lance and Atticus and Alessio and Olivia and you! I promised I’d protect them and here I am, floating in the void while I wait to respawn back in bloody Spade because I wasn’t strong enough!”

“Is that why you want to be strong?” A voice asked. “To protect them?”

Alfre felt an invisible hand push her up into a sitting position. Facing her, much to her shock, was Orli. Abital floated towards her, confusion evident on his face.

“What are you doing here, Orli?” he demanded. “You never come to the Fell’s waiting place.”

Orli’s lavender eyes flickered to Abital for a moment before returning to Alfre. “I am not unaware of what is going on in Wonderland, Abital. I may favor the Wonderlanders, but that does not mean I don’t recognize a worthy Fell when I see one.”

Alfre clutched at her cloak, pulling it tighter around her in an attempt to hide from those eyes that seem to lay her bare. “What do you mean?”

Orli frowned, looking ashamed. “I was… foolish…to think that I had no stake in this fight. This woman you fight, she very well means to slaughter my people if they do not flee from her. I cannot allow someone like her to destroy everything my people…and yours…have built.”

Suddenly, Alfre sound herself sitting in a wide field of soft grass and the pastel-colored blossoms. Orli still stood before her, Abital having been forcefully and suddenly moved to her right side. A surprised sound made Alfre turn, finding Koseret behind her and Canus to her left.

“Orli…” Koseret’s voice held a barely hidden warning.

“Peace, Koseret,” Orli assured her with upheld palms. “I am not here to fight, but to grant a wish.”

“A wish?” Canus echoed.

Orli nodded sagely, her eyes softening to something almost fond. “This little one wishes to be strong enough to protect her loved ones and the people of Ahmar. I think we can grant her that wish.”

Koseret gasped, eyes wide. “You mean – !”

“Yes,” Orli said. “It’s been a while since the Vorpal Blade was wielded by a Fell.”

“Vorpal Blade?” Alfre repeated. “Like the poem? Does that make Summer the jabberwocky?”

One perfectly shaped white brow rose on Orli’s face. “I don’t know what you mean. The last jabberwocky was slain by the Fell Queen generations ago.”

“You mean Alessio’s ancestor,” Alfre clarified. “Alice.”

Canus nodded. “She was the last one to ever wield the Vorpal Blade. Orli took it when she passed and split its magic between the four of us. I never did understand why.”

“To keep ones like this burning one from finding it,” Orli explained, her voice growing harsh at the mention of Summer. “Only one who is worthy of the blade may have it. Only one who would use it to protect others.”

“And you say I’m worthy?” Alfre questioned cautiously.

Orli simply nodded.

“I can’t think of anyone better,” Koseret agreed.

Alfre groaned, letting her head fall into her hands. “This is insane.”

“What is it the old god used to say?” Canus wondered aloud. “’We’re all mad here?’ Something like that.”

Wait, Alfre paused. Did that mean that the Cheshire Cat was the original god of Wonderland? That seemed to be what Canus was implying. And it certainly made sense. The Cheshire Cat always did seem to know more than he was letting on and could do far more than was seen. How very fitting that he’d be some Old God in a fantasy role-playing version of Wonderland.

“What happened to him?” Alfre asked cautiously, unsure if she wanted to know. “The old god?”

“He made us,” Koseret said, her voice dreamy with reminiscing. “He carved us from the universe itself. Orli he made from a dying star, made to burn anew. Abital he carved from the deepest, darkest obsidian he could find. Canus he carved from the most ancient trees in the Wilds. And I… he formed me from the earth and planted flowers in my chest. And when he felt we were ready, he faded into the land itself. His fur became the grass, and his bones the mountains and his veins the mana crystals.”

“This is way more lore than I ever expected to get,” Alfre muttered to herself, on the verge of rocking back and forth like a madwoman.

“Enough talk!” Orli interrupted, her voice firm, almost edging on angry. “We don’t have much time left. The blade must be given before Wonderland spits her spirit back up into those blasted cathedrals of theirs. Quickly!”

The four of them stepped towards Alfre, who scrambled to her feet. Orli held out her right hand, palm upward, and the others mirrored her in turn.

“Blade which slayed the Damned Beast,” Orli sang, her voice carrying through the air like bird song. “Blade which Light split in four. Blade of Justice. Blade of Honor. We call you forth. Let this girl be your new Master. Fight for her.”

“Blade which served the Fell Queen,” Abital chanted, his voice rolling like thunder echoing in a cave. “Blade which Death held in Secret. Blade of Vengeance. Blade of War. We call you forth. Let this girl be your new Master. Slay for her.”

“Blade which saved the Old Wonderland,” Koseret recited, her voice steady like the pulse of the earth itself. “Blade which Harvest hid away. Blade of Kindness. Blade of Humility. We call you forth. Let this girl be your new Master. Protect for her.”

“Blade which will defend the New Wonderland,” Canus intoned, his voice wild and rough like the beasts he cared for. “Blade of which the Wilds sang. Blade of Courage. Blade of Diligence. We call you forth. Let this girl be your new Master. Gleam for her.”

They spoke as one, their voice harmonizing in a way that Alfre could not even begin to understand or describe. It at once felt ancient and brand new, as far away as the stars and as close as the grass beneath her feet.

“Vorpal Blade, born first of the Cat’s fangs, be born again for this Child of Winter – ”

“ – Favored One of the Wilds – ”

“ – Blessed by the Great Druid – ”

“—Death’s Chosen Champion – ”

“—Light Touched! May she Wield You Well.”

Alfre doubled over, pain far worse than what Summer’s katana had inflicted on her running through her veins, starting at her heart and spreading out over her body. She was at one burning hot and freezing cold, her body fighting against whatever was happening, threatening to tear her apart. She screamed, but no sound escaped. She clawed at her chest, desperate to remove what was causing this pain.

She felt something burst from her chest, something hard and leathery. She grasped at it frenziedly, pulling it from her body. She pulled and pulled, the pain only growing more unbearable with each inch. Then, suddenly, it was gone. The object finally broke free. In her hands was a sword unlike any she’d ever seen. Impossibly long and thin, the blade itself was a brilliant blue color. A rapier-like basket of silvery white metal and pearlescent white stone covered the hilt, swirling and weaving over it in a deceptively delicate fashion. The hilt was covered in supple black leather, seemingly made to fit in her hand.

“This is…” Alfre couldn’t find the words.

“The Vorpal Blade,” Orli finished for her. “Remade for you to wield.” She eyed it curiously. “It looked different last time. Bigger.”

“Snowbird can’t use something as big as that old claymore,” Canus argued mildly. “This fits her better.”

“I agree,” Koseret said, floating over to eye the blade more closely, flowers blooming under her feet. “It suits her very well.”

“Enough!” Abital warned. “We have to move quickly. Otherwise, Alfre will be returned to Siniy instead of Rubino.”

“Calm yourself, Soul Keeper,” Orli soothed. “We will not let this be in vain. Come, let us send her back where she is needed.”

Each deity placed a hand upon Alfre, their magic glowing softly. “Go, little winter. Go and show that woman what it means to be a Fell.”