The Red Mark

In a country in a distant place, two families were warring. The feud had gone on for so long no one could quite remember the original cause. The present hostilities were based on more recent grudges and murders. One family was named Wren, the other Fox. Both desired to control the countryside and eradicate their enemy.

In these two families, two women lived. The Fox Clan had for their head of household a queen. She was a sly matron who was cunning and rational. Though she had at last found a way to rote her ancestral enemies, she knew it would come at too high of a cost. Once she felt as if she had the Wrens sufficiently cornered she had sent out a peace offering. It had been denied, but not gone unnoticed by a cooler head than that of the Wren King.

The Wren King had a niece who had her own support within the population. When her offered bridegroom had been repelled with arrows she had shuddered at the zinging death knoll. She alone could see the shadow on her family that grew longer and more deadly with each passing day.

These two women wished for a solution, the queen and the niece of the king. What would come would open the way for both. After one had made the greatest sacrifice.

#

Russ left one morning for what should have been a routine patrol. She was carrying upon her shoulders the memories of ash and blood. She raised her head towards the sun as she left the walls of the compound. She could not tell if what was blinding her as she looked towards the future was despair or hope.

She drew her battle-helm down over her face. It was a blank white mask, so that her enemy would find her an enigma. It was completely unlike the Fox clan that preferred to be snarling and hysterical in battle with frenzied masks. It was said reticence saved lives amongst her folk, but the passion of the Foxes would say otherwise.

Her hands clenched her reigns as she bowed her head. Her horse moved with memorized steps. They had been this way a hundred times before, into the gaping maw of woods and the yawn of the mountains. Yet each time the path walked in life could be followed into death.

Her shoulders slumped, for she knew to save her family, she must also betray them.

#

Now, of course, to anyone not born into the Forever War, the entire conflict was a stupid exercise in futility. This view was especially prevalent amongst the local spirits. They prudently avoided the conflict, and thus lived in woeful ignorance of the exact nature of the war. For them life went on whether or not the local human population annihilated itself.

In this country a clan of kelpies lived. These were spirits of the lakes and rivers, able to assume the form of man and horse. They resided in the cluster of lakes that dwelled in the interior. As it would happen this was the borderland between the Wren and Fox families, and thus a common ambush point. Not that these spirits were much aware, or cared, about this fact, given they happily killed any human that looked good enough to eat. Instead they were much more preoccupied with their own family life.

It so happened the kelpie patriarch and matriarch had a son name Roe. He was the oldest of his siblings and thus obliged to marry as the next leader of the family. A kelpie does not venture far from his home turf save for this critical time in life. He would be required to impress another clan with his strength and prowess before he would be allowed to take a bride. He was expected to marry well and make the right choice. It was in short his first true test of adulthood.

And with the hopes and expectations of his clan’s future placed upon him, Roe had ventured out into the world. He was aware the closest clan was to the east, in the mountains where rain gathered to form great lochs. He traveled along the water ways and within two days was within the foothills. Here he allowed himself to hunt. Struck with hunger he assumed the form of a black stallion and waited to lure whatever unwary creature came by.

He caught a fish for an appetizer. As he feasted on that flesh however the smell of a more pungent blood filled his nostrils. Tantalized he raised his head and followed the scent until it turned bitter and repulsive. He shuddered and hesitated. He was not a coward however and his impudence pushed him forward.

He found the corpse in a clearing. It was a young mare. Never having been prey he boldly walked out into the glen. How could one of his kind died in this way?

The smell cut across his senses. Iron. She had been cut down by iron. How?

He received the answer when his own side was lanced by the same metal. He shrieked and he bucked and kicked to shake the arrow loose. It was to no avail as another speared his weightbearing rear leg. With a hoarse cry he assumed human form if only to have hands to pull the scorching metal out of his flesh and give his attackers a smaller target.

He began to retreat to the tree line as he looked wildly around to see where he was being attacked from. It was a futile search however as the arrows seemed to come from all directions.

“Who dares, who dares?!” he snarled. He would kill their entire bloodline! He summoned the river behind him. As he reached out for the water however he felt his blood scream in pain. His legs shook as he realized he had already been severely weakened by the iron’s corrosive touch. He would kill himself trying to drown his assailants.

So be it. His clan would avenge his death. He was not meant to be their leader.

“Get down!” He was slammed into from behind and found himself doing what he had just been ordered to do. Stunned, he watched someone dressed in a long tunic and tartan arisaid scale a tree to his left. The person’s face as hidden by a blank white mask that only had two small eyeholes and a small hole for the speaker’s voice to be heard through. She rapidly revealed she was female as she spread her arms and yelled to be heard.

“If you are men of Wren put down your arms!”

The order was answered with two singing arrows. The woman cursed and slid down to the ground. She began to run along the tree line, obscuring herself from the reach of the arrows to apparently engage her enemy in one on one combat. Roe was impressed, enough that he staggered after her. His pace was slowed however by the growing torment of the iron clotting in his veins.

When he reached the battle he found there had been only three assailants. The female had chosen to use a blade to defend herself with. He surprised one attacker by snapping his neck with his hands, thus proving to the female there was no need to use human weapons. The woman was apparently stunned by the sudden help as she faltered. She was kicked in the chest by her opponent and landed on the corpse of the slain mare.

Roe lunged at the second man and had another arrow lodge into his gut. It was the final blow. He collapsed as his savior gave a strangled cry. The world grew indistinct and dim as the agonizing heat overtook his body.

One of my kind? He wondered as he heard her cry out. Kin to the mare perhaps? What had been happening all these years beyond his parents’ turf? Had his people taken to fighting in human conflicts? Unimaginable.

Before he left the world he could feel her holding him, pleading with him. As if she was already bonded with him. He was disappointed he had to go so soon.

You would have made a fine wife.

#

But rarely do things work out as we expect them to.

He awoke in a cavern, comfortingly cold and wet. He felt ill, he had never felt worse in his life. His blood still felt like sludge in his veins. He felt isolated from the waters, the source of his life. It was an anxious, lonely, and barely tolerable feeling. It was worse than the pain he felt. He wearily raised up human hands and the action drained him of all energy. He closed his eyes and gave a sigh.

But he was alive.

His eyes opened at the sound of movement. He turned his head to see the woman setting down a bag of some kind. He realized he was on a blanket with his head propped up by the arisaid. Had she carried him here? She was soaked in his blood, along with that of her slain kin. She still wore the mask but he could see her hair was red, an unusual color for their folk. Though perhaps it was more common in this clan. Would she have chestnut foals? He winced at his own distracted thoughts.

“You’re awake.” She softly observed as she sat across from him. She tilted her head and he had a feeling she was smiling at him. He looked down and realized his wounds had been dressed in bandages that held moss to the punctures. How ingenious. That small amount of moisture had probably helped his magic draw the iron out of his blood. His folk would have never thought of such a trick.

“Oh, aye, you got quite lucky,” she remarked as she followed his gaze. “I don’t know how you didn’t bleed out. Must have missed all your vital organs.”

“Please tell me who I have the honor of thanking for my life,” he asked.

“Oh, no,” she sighed. “Don’t ask for my name. And don’t ask to see my face, it’s best if we both have no idea who the other is. You must know what I am from my mask, but not who.”

Roe blinked, “why?”

“Because I may have to kill you, and you may have to kill me, if we learn each other’s identity. Or even if we don't. I can't stand knowing the name of another person I kill.” The woman leaned back and tilted her face up.

“I don’t understand.” The kelpie frowned. “Why you should have recourse to kill me, or I you. Are you fighting in that damned war?”

“Yes.” The woman answered readily but her shoulders tensed at the question. Roe shook his head.

“Your entire clan is?”

“Aye.”

“How stupid.” Roe snorted.

“Probably.” The woman sighed. “But at this point I just think we don’t know any other way to live.”

Roe didn’t understand her point. He began to muse on it as she reached into her pack.

“So I have some meat here,” she pulled out the wrapped steak. Roe was surprised she would be so forward. He didn’t hesitate however, as, after all, he had already decided he found her attractive and was certainly interested in courting her. He obliged her offer of food by taking it out of her hands and swallowing it in one bite. He was confused however that she would become so tense after his acquiescence.

“Hungry, huh?” she gave a small laugh.

“Aye.” He wiped his lips. “Once I heal I shall return the favor.”

“Och, that’s not necessary.” She sighed. Roe was even more perplexed. In this clan did only the females hunt? In his family both parties were expected to show prowess.

She stayed with him for four days. In that time he found himself often confused and irritated by her behavior. She would go out and hunt for them both. And though she engaged in courtship behavior by feeding him she frustrated his efforts to carry the affair further by not telling him who her clan was, remove her mask, or even tell him her name.

“I am not participating in that war!” he snapped at her.

“But how can I know you’re not lying?” she countered and to his surprise, he could find no way to prove he wasn’t. It was the first time he realized trust was something to be earned. He endeavored to show his worth by obeying her wishes and not removing her mask, even when she slept.

“If you could stop fighting, would you?” he asked her the second night they were together.

“Yes.” And then she gave a small sigh that was almost a cry to the stars. “But I don’t think my clan can ever forgive our enemies.”

“If you would have me, I take you away from all that.” He told her.

She didn’t answer, perhaps because she once again had no way to trust he ever keep such a promise.

The third morning he asked why if she couldn’t trust him why she had saved him at all.

“Because sympathy has nothing to do with trust.” She remarked as she looked at her feet. Roe wondered what sympathy was, and why this woman had it and he didn’t.

On the third evening she remarked over how quickly he had healed. As Roe had never seen such wounds before he had to take her word he was healing exceptionally quickly.

“You see these sorts of wounds often?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” She nodded and he recalled the dead mare in the field. He couldn’t bring himself to ask who she had been to her as he saw the slump of her shoulders. He had realized she had stayed with him this long because she didn’t want to go back.

On the morning of the fourth day they were separated.

#

It was the first day Roe had felt well enough to participate in a hunt. The woman had chided him to not overwork himself. He had snorted, fully intending to find the plumpest human he could and bring it back to her. They went down the mountainside to the low lying plain below that drifted into the glen where they had first met. They separated to each pursue different prey after they had come to a copse. The woman ran after a rabbit and Roe focused on assuming his equine form for the first time in three days.

A scream however interrupted his transformation. He heard the mare running towards him and paused. She leapt out of the vegetation with a gasp and reached for his hand. She did not falter for a second even with an arrow in her shoulder. She turned on her heel to pull him back towards the mountain side. Towards their home of the past few days.

“Stop! It’ll be a dead end! We need to stand and fight!” Roe argued as he planted his heels.

“Nay! There’s too many! Listen! If we scale the cliff there’s a small path that leads to a waterfall we can hide behind!” She gasped as she let him go. She pulled the arrow out with a gasp. He hesitated as he watched her begin to climb the cliff face as a human. Why should they stay in such a small, frail body? Would it not be faster to climb with their hooves? Yet she had saved him before in human form. He should trust her. He followed her.

Though he was disquieted by the sudden smell of human blood on the air. Where had it come from? Had she ripped open whoever had shot her with the arrow?

He began to climb the cliff as well, exposing their small bodies to anyone looking up. When the arrows began to whiz by them once again, Roe decided he’d had enough. He stopped and the woman looked back down at him.

“Keep going! I’ll stop them!” He told her. He pushed away from the cliff but she caught his wrist.

“By all the gods, no! Just keep climbing! We’ll make it!” she gasped.

“Trust me!” Roe snapped. She hesitated and he grasped his hand around her wrist. He closed his eyes and laid his mark upon her. He was being presumptuous that she desired to wear it, but it was a dire situation.

“What is-!” she gasped and raised her wrist to look at the livid mark.

“I’ll find you!” he promised as he launched himself off the cliff. His human body rolled down past the hail of arrows but when he hit ground he was all black fury and hooves.

He killed five before the rest retreated. These were not the humans that had attacked him in the field. They wore different masks, not the blank white of the woman’s but they were frozen howls and screams. Their arrows and blades were of innocuous bronze. They did nothing to stop him, as they had done nothing to stop her. Neither did their pleas they were allies. He had nothing to do with this war save protecting his intended bride.

In a crazed hunger he devoured the bodies of the fallen. His beloved’s tidbits had never been quite enough to sate him. He supposed there was just not much game in this area as she had brought home only rabbits and squirrels. He spared one body with an idea of sharing in his feast. As he summoned the magic of the mark he found her quite distant to him. He licked his jaws. Had she been captured then?

It had been impulsive to lay the mark. He would have done better to have let her go and pursue a bride more easily secured. He was not supposed to make this decision out of affection than what was beneficial. Yet he justified his decision that because of her bravery and ferocity he was justified in the extra effort it would take to secure this bride.

And now he could not take back the promise he had made. Only if she refused him could the bond be broken. Either way he must fulfilled his vow to find her.

So upon the invisible strand he began to travel.

#

In a day she was home. From behind the waterfall there was a cave. As no fire could be lit in its damp walls it had long since only been used as an escape route for the Wren clan. The exit was hidden below ground and had to be dug again out of soft dirt each time it was escaped. She grunted at her exertion. The arrow had struck low, below the joint and muscle. It only lanced across her armpit. If she had not moved at the last second, it may have taken her life however. Russ paused as she shoved the sand back into place to conceal her escape.

”I will find you.” That young man was probably already dead. She should forget about him. She was glad she had not learned his name. It made him ethereal; a passing, foolish desire. A dream, albeit one of many hours.

She looked down at her blood stained clothes as she stood. She’d not even had the security to bathe in those four days. Why had she tarried so long with him anyway? It was not like her to be cowardly. Perhaps this exhaustion in her bones was grinding her into weakness. For all her resolve his voice remained in an echo across her heart.

As she followed the terrain and let the sun guide her journey back to the village, she again wondered if he had told the truth. Those had been Fox warriors. She knew their expressive masks well enough, they were the opposite of her stoic second face. That young man had worn no mask and had attacked her enemies. Nevertheless, he had also been attacked by those mercenaries her uncle had hired from the Distant Shore. She ran her fingers across a wide crimson stain on her tunic, who had been that slain mare? That young man’s mount?

He’s dead, I must forget about him, she reaffirmed herself. She was ashamed she had been so foolish. Even if she had forced him to follow her, she could not have returned home with him. He had been dark of skin and hair, just like the Wrens and Foxes. He was not of the fair people of the Distant Shore like the mercenaries and the grandmother Russ had inherited her hair color from. He was native, and he did not belong to her people. And so, he could have only been an enemy.

Maybe she had just wanted to save someone, anyone. And she had lost him all the same. She ran her fingers over the strange mark on her wrist. It looked like filigree of a deep red laced across her burnished skin. What was this thing he had left upon her? Had he been hiding dye in his hand? She covered it with a stray bandage, still soaked in his blood.

Her walk was uneventful. The Foxes were likely more engaged by whatever patrols were out looking for her. She was greeted at the gate with a loud cheer. She raised a hand in salute as they opened the way for her. She requested to be allowed to be made presentable before she spoke to her uncle. They gave her a small wash tub and a new dress. The stain didn’t come off no matter how hard she scrubbed. The mark didn’t clot around her calves as did all the blood and dirt of the previous seven days.

She dressed her wound, denying anyone the sight of her naked wrist. Russ pulled on an arisaid over her dress and ran her fingers across the strange tattoo. It was nothing like the scattered dots that formed the swirling marks of fierce blue on her face. It was not like the azure circles the Foxes wore around their arms. It was something she had never seen. She hid it beneath a wrist band.

Why do I feel so bonded to him still? She looked down at the mud beneath her bare feet, soaking her to the bones with the chill of the earth. She lingered for as long as she could in the Women’s Place but at last crossed the yard to the hall at her grandmother’s impatient sighing. She glanced at the woman as she passed. Her red hair had long since faded into gray, but her green eyes mirrored her granddaughter’s, and that young man’s.

“Grandmother.” Russ asked softly. “Do any people wear red tattoos?”

The old woman looked up from the fire. “Only forest gods, my child.”

“Forest god.” She cradled her marked wrist. Her grandmother’s forest green eyes remained too long upon her and Russ turned away. The old woman from the Distant Shore followed behind her, and her wrinkled, fair skin turned florid in the morning’s chill. Russ’ hand remained on her wrist. But he’s dead, surely. I need to stop thinking about him.

Her uncle was sitting on at the Honored Place, holding Court with his lords and ladies around the Great Fire. His single black eye narrowed at her entrance. Russ held his gaze readily, she was far more fearful of the old woman in her wake.

“What happened to your horse?” he asked as he stoked the flames at his feet.

“It was cut down from beneath me by Fox soldiers.” Russ stepped just inside the hall and let her grandmother take her seat, as it was her right to.

“You have been gone for seven days.” His voice was calm but the accusatory undertone remained. Russ stayed silent. She knew what charge was coming and she would not attempt to deny it. The lords and ladies shifted nervously.

“Five days ago three of our mercenaries were killed. Do you know anything about that, Lady Russ?” He acridly asked. Russ drew her shoulders back.

“I do. I killed them.” Her uncle didn’t look surprised, in fact the only surprise in the hall was from Russ’ insouciance about treason. The clan head was instead angry. Angry at his niece’s presumption she could be this bold. Russ raised her chin.

“They tried to kill me. I asked them as men of Wren to yield arms and instead they attacked me. I was wearing my battle mask at the time. They knew me.” Russ added. She narrowed her eyes. “You should hire men able to stay loyal to a cause next time uncle, not beasts that get swept up by bloodlust.”

“Then you admit you interfered with their mission.” The Wren King shot back at her. Russ clenched her jaw. “They were to slay the damned kelpies of the Mountain Lochs who have allied with the Foxes against us!”

That mare then had been a loch god. Russ clenched her marked wrist. Had that young man been her kin? She barked out a laugh.

“You would war against the gods themselves now?!” She snorted. “What a fool you are. Is this your reply to the Fox Queen’s bid for her daughter to be married to your son?”

“You insolent little--!” The clan head hissed. He half-rose from his seat but realized as he did more than half the host with him was also rising, to defend his niece. Russ tensed her shoulders and spread her legs as her hands reached for her sword. Her grandmother’s voice however interrupted the swelling tide.

“Why did you stop the mercenaries?” she asked. Russ hesitated but knew not to lie.

“Because they were going to kill a lone, unarmed man. It wouldn’t have been fair.” She explained.

“They managed to slay the daughter of the loch god; that was likely the son.” A lady cried out. There was a murmur of agreement. Russ stepped back but her grandmother caught her marked wrist. She removed the band to reveal the tattoo.

“She saved a faerie’s life, so he left his mark of favor on her.” The old woman held the wrist up for the assembly to see. “He will return to collect his bride.”

Russ dropped her wrist as her grandmother continued.

“And a marriage is a far stronger alliance than any pact.” And she, princess of the Distant Shore, knew that far better than anyone else. That alliance had allowed a steady supply of mercenaries, and were probably the only reason the Wrens had survived this long. Russ turned away from her kinfolk’s cries of jubilation and congratulations. She could feel her uncle’s glare as a dagger in the back. If the kelpie wanted his bride, he must return before she found herself assassinated.

She returned to the Women’s Place and sat with her head between her hands. She ignored her kinwomen’s excited chattering. Why did this honor make her feel so sick?

After the midday meal, as everyone was finding a comfortable place for the after meal nap, there was a commotion near the gate. Groggy from interrupted leisure the clan groped for their weapons. Russ grasped her spear and pulled on her battle helm. She swallowed, had the Foxes with their new allies found the boldness to at last exterminate them? They had never had the strength to attack them at their heart. Yet with gods by their sides, it was only a matter of time before they were annihilated.

And because of his hatred for the other clan her uncle had condemned them all to death!

She glanced at the mark and sighed. My people want a savior. But they don’t know, that young man is already dead. There was no hope. No hope.

“The bridegroom has come!” A cousin rushed towards her. Russ darted past the eager hands of her folk with cries to make her look presentable. Her heart led her blind rush to look upon his face again. She thought of nothing else but seeing the triumph over death.

They let her through the line. A magnificent black stallion stood in the yard. His ears were pinned back and his bright fangs glistened in the sun. He looked bewildered at the hopeful looks. His dark eyes focused on her as she broke the line and in a fluid movement he became human. He was the man she had known, of lovely green eyes and sopping hair that never became dry. She approached him and he walked towards her. His frigid fingers brushed past her hair to move the mask up. She beamed at him as he saw her face for the first time. His hands raised to cup her face in a gentle embrace. She could feel the chill of his skin hovering above her warm flesh.

Then the touch fell away.

“You’re human.” There was only horror on his face. Russ stepped back at the abject rejection. He stepped after her in anger. “How did you--?!”

“I never said I wasn’t.” Russ frowned. How could he ever mistake her for a loch god?! But how had she taken him for a mortal man? The kelpie shook his head, sending a wake of stinging droplets in his wake.

“I won’t have this! Sever the bond!” He snapped.

“I--!” Russ had no true idea what he was talking about. Her grandmother saved her once again.

“He’s made his promise. He has to uphold it. Only you can release him from it.”

“He has to marry you!” Her uncle added. He stepped away from the line. “Damn it Russ if you do anything for this family, do this! We can beat the Foxes with his clan’s strength!”

As the kelpie turned to snarl at the interloper Russ looked down at the faerie’s mark. You are nothing like the man I knew. He was all wrath and teeth now. A perfect ally in a never-ending war. She closed her eyes to remember her beloved.

“You see these sorts of wounds often?” She recalled his words. He didn’t even know! War had never touched him. This conflict was beginning to even ensnare the spirits, the land itself would be annihilated in time. They knew nothing of this killing passion. She dropped her head.

She couldn’t do it. She would see no one suffer as she had. This was all she had ever wanted.

“I’ll let you go.” She softly told the kelpie as she raised her head. He looked at her in surprise. She smiled at him, glad he could at last see her face. She would keep him safe. She would save at least one person before her life ended.

“Go home, Lord.” She gently raised a hand. To her delight he let her touch his frigid cheek. She swallowed her tears. “I release you from your promise.”

She could hear the hisses of dismay. She knew her uncle was wishing the forest god would tear out her impudent throat. The kelpie gently moved her hand away from his cheek.

“Words are not enough.” He told her. “The bond will not sever so long as you love me.”

“Please forgive me.” Russ softly said as a great pain wrenched her heart. “Love cannot just be stopped. Just stay away from me, and in time, it’ll end.”

“Very well.” And he was gone. Russ fell down to the earth. Her grandmother came to rub her shoulders in comfort as she wept. None asked her why she had done what she had. They knew what it was; a death wish. She had thrown away the last chance to save the clan. She would be shortly murdered.

But her hope was not gone. She had saved one person. Now she would save as many as she could in her brief time left. She knew her uncle would murder her now, but she would not allow him to murder the entire clan.

And when she died, her beloved would be free forever, from suffering and death.

#

By sundown Roe was home. His brothers notified his parents of his return, but he didn’t approach his father and mother. Instead he remained by the shore of the loch in a sulk. He sat along the shallows and watched the slow drift of stars across the sky.

His father only waited until the morning to disturb his reverie.

“You returned without a bride. Have you failed?” The old stallion asked. Roe bowed his head.

“Aye. I have found myself betrothed to a human. When I met her she was covered in the blood of one of our kind. It obscured her scent.” He stretched out his arm in a gesture of long-reaching regret.

“I will not allow this son. Those of the mountains have chosen a side in the humans’ war and now they find themselves without a daughter. We will not know that suffering.” His father bared his fangs.

“She let me go.” Roe put a hand over his chest. To spare him that agony. He looked away.

“But you are still bound. You must kill her, only then will you be free.” Roe’s shoulders tensed and for the first time he made a defiant gesture against his father’s wishes. It was a small shake of his head. His father snarled. Roe would not meet him.

“If you free yourself you may still be married to someone suitable. One of our kind. I will not remove you from the succession.” Roe raised his head but didn’t meet his father’s eyes. “But if you spare this woman you will meet two fates. If you spare her and she dies without you returning her love I will remove you from the succession, but I will not renounce you.”

Roe at last met his father’s eyes, when they were as hard as stone. “But if you fulfill that promise, you will lose everything.”

“I understand.” Roe answered quietly. For all there was in the world was choice. The silence between father and son was long.

“Do not disappoint me.” His father’s words were hard, but there was a soft plea beneath them. Roe didn’t answer either. He was left alone. He spent days without moving. He didn’t eat, and wasn’t stirred even by the cajoling of his brothers. His mother would not even look upon him in apparent disgust of his cowardice.

In the end he knew he could not move forward without seeing her again. Only when he saw her face would he decide if he would kill her and spare himself, or spare her and kill himself. He summoned the bond and upon its invisible, ethereal threads he traveled across the countryside.

#

That night Russ betrayed her clan. In the darkness there was a carefully orchestrated flight. The half loyal to her followed behind her red banner, the sign of surrender. They traveled across Fox land unmolested, but distantly escorted by an innumerable number of troops. They came to the Fox stronghold by dawn.

“Lady Russ.” The Fox Queen purred from atop her throne. Russ dropped to one knee in a gesture of submission. The older woman chortled. “Apparently your entire clan is not comprised of fools.”

She glanced at the host behind the rogue leader. “What are you offering me?”

“If you would protect the children of these people,” Russ raised her face, obscured by her battle-helm, “I will slay my uncle, and the land will be yours.”

The Fox Queen tilted her head. “Kin-slaying is an offense to the gods themselves, even I will not be able to protect you.”

“I will have no need of such protection.” Russ lowered her head again. Her shoulder ached. Opposite of the wrist that had been marked, it was her sword wielding hand. The silence was consuming, but at last the Queen broke it with a steady voice.

“Brave and foolhardy lady, we have a deal.”

And it was sealed in blood. The new kingdom would not belong to the Foxes alone. Two enemies would share the future. For this, Russ must be damned. Her legacy would be sacrifice.

And she would carry the red mark until she died.

#

He walked for a day and night. He walked past the dwellings of her clan, empty save for the frail and young. He walked through a silent forest to an open field drenched in blood. The bond remained steadfast even drowned in gore. He recognized the masks of her people, and only they were present on the killing ground.

"We will not know that suffering."

He found her towards the center of the slaughter, at the feet of the interloper who had apparently led her clan. He was dead of a stab to the heart. The woman had a sword in her belly. Her mask obscured whatever expression of suffering was on her face. The few survivors stayed far away. She tilted her face towards him as he knelt next to her.

“I…you came. Oh…I still don’t know your name.” She sighed.

“Roe.” He informed her.

“Ah, Roe. How pretty. I’m Russ. …Russ.” Was she smiling at him from beneath that false face? She coughed and gave a gasping breath. “I’m so happy. Roe. I got to see you. One last time.”

She turned her face back towards the sky. “I’m dying. You’ll be free soon. The one person I know I saved.”

Roe stood up and took the hilt of the killing sword into his hand. Russ gave a soft cry. He pulled it out in one quick motion. Russ screamed and her hands covered the great burst of blood that followed the removal of the blade. She laid back in agony. Roe removed her mask to reveal the great clot of blood she had around her mouth. And she smiled at him.

“I….saved those I could. The Fox Queen…never wanted this. She knew what allying with the spirits meant. Those mothers that were still loyal to me, I sent their children with my grandmother to the Fox Queen in exchange for betraying my uncle. She has promised to protect them…protect them…they may be all that is left…” Russ winced in pain and Roe began to gather her into his arms. She wrapped her hands into his tunic as she gasped. “I am a kin-slayer now. I am damned, but I…saved them. Them and you. It’s all over, my love.”

“No.” It would not end like this. Russ gave him a curious look before she passed out from her exhaustion and anguish. All this mortal suffering and waste, she had saved him from it. She had given up everything for him. He could do only one thing in return.

He laid her in an unclaimed loch, only leagues away from the last battlefield. Not even the chill of the water could revive her. Roe kissed his bride, and let his magic flow into her body. It synchronized with the water all around them and began to fill the mortal voids opened by approaching death. In the end, she became as dependent upon the waters as he was. And his life was halved by what he had given her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood in a daze in the shallows of her rebirth.

“You have nothing left. And now, neither do I. All we have now is each other.” He told her. She gave him a long look and then smiled with her blood tinged lips. The red mark remained. They had nothing but each other. And nothing but love.

And love is the easiest, and the hardest, thing in the world to give.