Azela Incarnate

Something in the air was wrong, but neither could quite say what. The forest thinned as they walked, and they seemed to have stumbled onto a path. As the undergrowth pulled farther back, the dirt beneath them became firm and even.

Then, at what they estimated was halfway to the village, Azela was suddenly thrown backward.

One instant, she had been walking beside Catherine, listening to the quiet crunch of leaves beneath their feet; the next, an invisible force struck her like a door had been slammed in her face. She hit the ground hard and rubbed the back of her head, both hurt and confused. Something had definitely pushed her back, but nothing was there.

Catherine had her own problem.

Her sword had begun to shake violently at her side. The blade rattled inside its sheath and pulled away from her when she crossed a certain point on the trail, the same point where Azela had been thrown back.

Azela got to her feet and approached Catherine cautiously, who was examining the weapon's reaction beyond the invisible threshold. Once again, the glitch felt a sharp shock race through her body and was shoved backward several steps.

This time, she saw it. A faint blue shimmer hung in the air ahead of her.

"What's going on?" Azela wondered aloud.

She stepped forward slowly with one arm outstretched. The translucent aura surfaced in front of her hand, rippling like disturbed water. She stopped just short of touching it. The light bent where her fingers neared.

Catherine knelt beside the shimmer. "'Tis a barrier or shield of some kind. It probably surrounds the whole village."

"Why is it you can step through and I can't?" Azela asked.

Catherine shrugged, then thought for a moment. "It must be here to keep out things they'd consider a threat, like goblins, imps, or trogs." She glanced at the vibrating sword. "Katherine's too powerful to get held back, though. I can walk through because I'm sapien, but you… I don't think they want glitchen in here."

Azela looked at her hand for a moment, still suspended inches from the shimmering wall, then let it drop. "Why not?"

"A lot of human races don't even like other human races, let alone the non-human ones that can pass among them." Catherine stood and drew her shaking weapon. The sword trembled free with a harsh metallic scrape. "Well," she said, forcing confidence into her voice, "might as well try violence."

She raised the blade and struck the barrier.

The impact exploded outward in a burst of blue-white light. Bolts of energy cracked through the air like lightning, accompanied by snaps that echoed through the trees. The force traveled straight through the hilt into Catherine's arms hard enough to rattle her teeth. Of course, she had no idea if this would work.

Then the sword punched through.

A startled laugh escaped Catherine despite herself; half relief, half adrenaline.

What they could now see of the barrier spread as she cut it, like a tear in taut fabric. She sliced an Azela-sized hole, then blinked hard and gestured forward. Spots danced across her vision from the brightness. "Okay. Now try to get through."

Azela passed through effortlessly. For a moment, the hole in the rippling blue wall that Catherine's sword had left could be seen closing itself, then it was as if nothing had ever been there.

The sword continued to vibrate, but did so less as they walked away from the vanishing wall. Eventually the vibration stopped, and Catherine let out a sigh of relief. She walked in front of Azela, paying attention to the sword for signs of any other invisible barriers. Thankfully, that seemed to be the only one.

The trees began to space themselves out further until patches of sky showed through. The path widened as well. Worn dirt gave way to packed gravel. They had come across a road that ran between the trees.

Catherine stopped at the edge.

"Which way?" Azela asked.

"Look up." Catherine pointed through the branches. "You can see the light rising from the village. That way."

The road made walking easier, and for a while they traveled in silence. Owls called from somewhere above. The light shifted slowly as the moon moved, throwing long silver rays. It was almost peaceful.

Then Catherine raised a hand. Azela stopped.

Ahead, where the road bent around a stand of thick pines, something large lay across one side of the path. It took a moment to make out the shape of a chariot, tipped over on its side. One of its wheels was still spinning, catching the light with each rotation. The horse that had pulled it was nowhere to be seen. The wooden frame was splintered along one side, and a scattering of goods littered the road around it.

Then they heard the short, pained sounds of something human.

Catherine moved first, rounding the bend to find a man in merchant's clothes, backed against the overturned chariot. He clutched a short knife with a shaky hand. His torn coat hung loose from one shoulder.

Advancing toward him were three crabs, each roughly the size of a large wolf.

"Help!" the merchant shouted.

Two of the crabs turned toward Catherine and Azela.

"Can you control them?" Azela asked.

"No time to find out," Catherine replied, drawing her sword. "Zel, the one on the left."

Azela moved quickly, snatching a fallen crate. She hurled it at the leftmost crab, and it burst apart against its shell with a hollow crack. The creature staggered sideways, but recovered quickly and sped forward.

She sidestepped one claw that snapped toward her chest, then caught the limb, twisted, and spun, tossing it across the road. The detached claw remained in her grip.

Catherine met the second crab head-on. The thing snapped at her with both claws. She jumped back to avoid them, then charged forward and drove her blade between its shell plates. It dropped dead as the sword drank greedily.

The third crab had not moved from the merchant. It was still advancing on him.

Azela shouted to get its attention, but it ignored her. She picked up the broken spoke of a chariot wheel from the road and crossed the distance in a leap, driving the spoke down upon it as she landed. It shattered its way through the shell. The crab made one last snap and went still.

The first crab, undeterred from the loss of its claw, was still scuttling after her. Catherine finished it with a passing strike as she ran past on her way to Azela. The road was now quiet except for the slow creak of the chariot wheel, still turning.

The merchant hadn't moved. He stood with his back against the wreck and his knife still out, breathing hard. He was older than Azela had first thought, with grey at his temples and deep lines around his eyes. His torn coat had once been of good quality.

Slowly, he lowered the knife and said, "You have my thanks." His gaze moved from the dead crabs to the two women before him. "My very sincere thanks."

Catherine wiped sticky fragments of shell from her blade using ferns near the roadside. "Are you hurt?"

"My pride, mostly." He touched the torn shoulder of his coat and grimaced at the overturned chariot. "My driver came around that bend too quickly, and those foul creatures spooked my horse. I never even saw them until they were upon me."

Azela crouched beside one of the crabs and examined the shell. It was heavier than she expected. The mottled surface carried a faint iridescent sheen in direct moonlight. She had never seen crabs like these before.

"I hope you're not poisonous," she said, leaning in. "You will live on in me." She ate some of its exposed meat.

Catherine was looking at the chariot. She shouted to Azela, "There's someone else here! They're trapped!"

Azela moved faster than sapien eyes could follow, planting herself beside the overturned chariot. She wedged both hands beneath the frame and heaved upward. Wood groaned as the vehicle tipped back and crashed down hard enough to send more loose cargo sliding across the road.

A body lay beneath it, crushed.

Azela knelt beside the young man and pressed two fingers to his neck, already knowing that she would find nothing.

"It's dead, then?" the merchant asked.

Catherine stood beside Azela and put a hand on her shoulder. "Yes."

The merchant exhaled. He stepped closer and looked down at the body with what seemed more like mild annoyance than grief.

"Don't trouble yourselves over it," he said. "It wasn't human."

Azela looked up sharply.

"A dreg," the merchant clarified. He frowned faintly. "Have you not seen one before?"

"No," Catherine answered.

The merchant tucked his knife away. "Think of them like golems, more or less, only made of flesh rather than clay." He crouched and adjusted the body's position, checking its pockets. "Alive, they were once man-like monsters. But these ones have had their souls removed. The mind too, or most of it. What's left gets put to work. The Ruby Synod have been selling them. They follow directions, don't eat much, and don't complain."

Azela's attention had gone to where the shirt had ridden up during the fall. There were large scars on his back. She reached down and lifted the fabric further. The scars extended downward from the shoulder blades, long healed channels where something large had once been attached.

"He had wings," she said.

The merchant glanced over. "Yes, they take those off. Easier to fit through doors, I imagine." He said it as if discussing trimmed branches.

Catherine said nothing but gave Azela a look filled with meaning. Azela returned it, knowing what they would say if there weren't other ears nearby.

"I'll need another one once I reach the village," the merchant continued while brushing dirt from his knees. "Hazard of the trade, I suppose."

Azela's eyes returned to the scars and lingered there before she stood and let the shirt fall back into place.

"We should move on," Catherine said. She kept her voice steady.

"Of course, of course." The merchant began gathering salvageable goods into neat stacks beside the chariot. "You're headed to the village? Perhaps you'd allow an old man to walk with you."

"We'll escort you. For a price," Catherine replied.

"Naturally." He reached into a pouch at his belt and handed over several coins. "And extra for saving me."

Catherine accepted them despite having absolutely no idea what the currency was worth.

Together, they helped the merchant conceal the remaining goods under a pile of branches so that he could retrieve them later. It was amazing how much he fit on the chariot, which was very clearly not designed to transport anything more than two standing people. He complained about the road and the weather while they worked, filling the silence. Neither of the girls added much, but he didn't seem to notice.

When they resumed walking, Azela fell into step beside Catherine. The village came into view not long afterward, and the merchant thanked them before rushing off toward the first tavern they spotted.

"We never got his name, did we?" Azela asked.

"Oh." Catherine realized she was right. "I guess we didn't. Well, he didn't ask for ours either."

When she was sure that no one else was nearby, Azela moved her hair over her shoulder as she turned away from Catherine. "I need you to check," she said as she lowered her vest to expose her back.

Catherine didn't need to ask what she meant. "There are no scars. Not a single trace."

Azela put her vest back into place. She didn't know how to feel.

They had reached the outskirts of the village without any more problems, save for the foreboding feeling that they both shared. There were dangerous, magical forces in this village, which went without saying. But something else was in the air; something threatening they could feel but not see.