Gertrude II
Gertrude watched the trees below as she passed overhead. It reminded her of flying as the Raven, except there was nothing natural about how she moved now. She flew over the forest too quickly. No wings were flapping, no breeze through her feathers. No sight, smell, or sound; she only saw. Her view was too wide to be through Raven’s eyes.
A man lumbered through the woods. He didn’t notice Gertrude watching from above. The man was barrel-chested and large, a dominant form of ancient proportions.
“Triton,” her Queen whispered. The King Triton. Gertrude watched, but her vision blurred, and again she saw only rushing trees below.
Horses were tied up near a river. A band of knights lounged, helmets removed, resting from travel. Gertrude couldn’t pay them any attention. Whispers tore through her mind. They were cold, shrill, and of a language she did not know. She picked apart the scene, searching for the source of whispers. She had the feeling of bugs crawling over her, and the whispers grew louder. She searched, and still the chanting intensified, smothering her.
There! A knight wore a sword across his back. The whispers fought back now, screeching and blurring her vision. She had to look closer; she strained to see past the shrill sounds. The black hilt rose from a sheath, and Gertrude glimpsed a sliver of the crimson blade before the vision went dark.
The whispers blew out, and she felt silence and darkness. As the coldness settled, the silence grew heavy. Her senses recalibrated, and she shivered at the memory of whispers.
Her Queen’s voice returned to her softly, floating on the breeze, being carried away. “Triton seeks the sword Craven’s Edge. He must not be allowed to take the blade.”
Gertrude bolted upright in bed. She felt wet with sweat. She threw off the covers and stomped outside, grabbing a bucket of rainwater and dumping it over her head. She settled her breathing; her heart thumped wildly. Her mind raced through many thoughts, but the Raven descended toward her, and she noticed a flock perched in the trees above. She had only one choice.
She rushed inside and changed her clothes. The Raven watched her from the window. She nodded, and the Raven opened its wings and hopped onto her shoulder. At once their bodies merged, a familiar feeling. Gertrude flew out the window.
She loved flying. She longed to spend all her days as the Raven, which is why she couldn’t. Old ladies had gardens to tend to, friends to nurse, and tabby cats to feed. Apart from the flying, Ravens’ lives were boring anyway. Gertrude had trouble focusing on the flight, replaying the dream in her head. She was snapped out of her reverie by the sight of Eliza kneeling in her garden.
The flock had followed Gertrude. Most landed in trees, but a few circled overhead while Gertrude drifted down to the trail. She and the Raven unmerged; Gertrude popped back into her body and smoothed out her coat, though it wasn’t wrinkled. Eliza didn’t see Gertrude land and transform; the ravens above had caught the woman’s attention. Gertrude took a step forward and startled Eliza.
“Almighty, woman!” Eliza caught her breath. “Finally feeling better and you damn near kill me of a heart attack!”
“The fever?” Gertrude asked.
“Broken,” Eliza turned back to pulling weeds. “You did a shit job with my garden, you know.”
“I have to leave,” Gertrude said.
“Afraid I’m feeling better and’ll whoop your arse in cards, eh?” Eliza smirked.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Gertrude said. “Will you feed my cat?”
“If he’ll let me, the bastard.” Eliza stood up slowly and brushed off her legs. She studied Gertrude for a moment. “Can I help?”
“ ’Fraid not,” Gertrude said. The Raven remained perched on her shoulder. “Glad you’re on the mend.” Gertrude closed her eyes and merged with the Raven again, snapping into its body. Eliza watched Gertrude fly away. Dozens of ravens sprang from the trees to follow her.
…
Gertrude took stock of what she knew while she led the flock south. King Triton had recently closed his famous wizarding school. The people said he had gone mad and vanished into the forest for a life of solitude. The King of the South led Covidia through a peaceful span. There were always squabbles when it came to people, but no evil witches or wizards came to torment Covidia during Triton’s reign. The warlords were all subdued, and the clans kept to their territories. Civilized society grew into prosperous cities and spread to humble townships. Sure, some pirates still reaved the coastlines; the infestation may never be quelled. All said, King Triton was a good king.
The peace may have been attributed to his unrivaled power as a wizard. He was simply the best. Gertrude knew several cretins that scurried into caves or fled across the sea to avoid Triton’s wrath. She worried that the gremlins might come crawling back after Triton’s disappearance. That was before her dream last night.
Triton seeks the sword Craven’s Edge. Gertrude shivered. She sent a few ravens ahead to seek the river from her dreams. She would rather intercept Triton and speak with him, but the sword would be easier to find.
The sword.
Gertrude knew of evil things in Covidia, but had never crossed paths with Craven’s Edge. She hoped to avoid it still. She didn’t know its origin, only the stories. The smallfolk maintained tales, dating back centuries, of a blade that could rot the mind with bloodlust. They whispered that no one could escape the sword’s influence. The stories say Craven’s Edge was the center of Covidia’s most gruesome atrocities. Some bards and orators would have their audiences believe the sword could be used to smite evil, that heroes had used it to save their people from entire armies. But the heroes always went mad. Gertrude had dismissed all the tales and preferred to think of the blade as a legend. But now she flew toward it.
The ravens guided her west and hastened her forward. With the Raven’s enhanced vision, she saw that Triton had found the band of knights first and engaged them. She watched as an armored knight was flung high into the air and exploded, raining viscera below.
A thought came to Gertrude: all mortal things had a proper time to die. As she followed the ravens toward Triton and the knights, she could not help but consider her task’s impossibility. Perhaps it was her time. Perhaps, this was how she would die.
Previous Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/02/10/resistance-chapter-5/
Next Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/02/24/resistance-chapter-7/
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