Angrboda recalled the day she'd received and confirmed the transmission from HQ. As second in command, she'd done her due diligence and reported to Lord Irons. She still remembered the day, the tall burly man clad in his rusty red armor hadn't spoken a word for a long time. Then he heaved a long sigh. Angrboda had been a lieutenant long enough to know what that meant. It meant he needed time to think about it. She knew why he was so hung up on chasing the ghost of an elusive Faerie. He was seeking revenge for the death of his three sons.
Rumor had it that once it had tasted the blood of Lord Irons first son, it had, like a shark, hunted the second and third who were spread out miles across. And now, perhaps it hunted Lord Irons himself. Few in the human armies didn't know the name of this Faerie ghost. Silent hunter and the most efficient assassin of the Fae. And that was saying something considering how many uncanny methods the Fae had to kill with. This ghost was named Raithe.
But you didn't just hunt a Marshall, especially not after having killed his sons. Only so he could kill it and get his revenge. But it never came. And since Faerie was an unusual place, finding the tracks of the assassin was next to impossible.
Kanan turned to her again. "There's even been talk of mutiny. The men are scared enough."
Boda shook her arm free "You said it yourself. What we're doing is risky enough. A mutiny this deep in Faerie is pure suicide, so make sure no one gets any clever ideas, I'll handle the Marshall."
She started to walk away, but not before adding. "Be sure to let the men know we'll be moving out within the hour."
Back in the Fennywalker, Boda located Lord Irons in the War room.
"Sir?"
"This transmission came in while you were out on patrol."
He handed her a paper. Angrboda took it cautiously, scared but yet hopeful of what she'd find. Then she read it.
"An order to withdraw." She looked up to find the face of the man impassive. So she read the parchment again, eyes racing through the document and rereading once she was done.
This is it, this is really it. The moment that changed everything. Boda almost didn't dare believe her eyes. It was finally here.
"It came in a few days ago." Lord Irons announced. "But I decided to wait until your rotation outside was nearly over to tell you because you're the only one that understands like I do."
Angrboda felt a sense of foreboding.
She looked up at Lord Irons and the object he held in his hands "Sir?"
"I found something a few days ago."
It was like a black piece of cloth, but it writhed in his iron clad hands. Like it was alive.
Angrboda felt sick in her stomach. Lord Irons continued speaking.
"The Fae have stories they tell you.
And this piece of cloak I hold in my hand is particularly famous. Famous because only one Fae wears a cloak like this. A cloak of living night."
"Raithe." Boda whispered. She knew what it was. She'd seen the cloak before, she'd seen it once long ago on a night of horror that left all of her companions dead but her. An old familiar fear began to creep up again in her chest but she forced it down.
"The dark creature himself." Lord Irons said, clenching the piece of the writhing cloak tightly in his hands.
"He's close." He looked at Angrboda with wicked glee in his eyes, but something else flickered there, madness and Boda recoiled from it.
If he noticed her reaction, Lord Irons gave no sign of it, instead turning to the map and pointing."This is where we are." His finger traced a short line and tapped another spot on the map.
"This is the nearest Airship Port. Merely 3 days away. The evacuation will last 2 weeks at least, to give those behind enemy lines a chance to escape and to properly determine who's dead and who isn't. So that leaves us with enough time to find and kill the bastard for good. We'd get revenge and earn great merit."
He looked away from the map and managed a smile at Boda.
"We've got the bastard."
No. A voice in Angrboda's head seemed to whisper. He's got us. We're not the ones hunting, we're the ones being hunted.
She wanted to let the Marshall know but he probably wouldn't believe her and even worse, her betrayal would be discovered. Raithe was trying to lead the Marshall somewhere, he wasn't on the run, he was leaving obvious clues to be followed.
And if the Fae wanted to be found, common sense dictated that they should be heading in the opposite direction as fast as possible. Lord Irons in his befuddled state would chase after Raithe and possibly get them all killed. The same way he'd led and slaughtered over a hundred other soldiers of Angrboda's former squad. What were 10 people to do to a creature like that?
"Boda. Boda?"
Angrboda snapped out of her reverie and stood straight. "Apologies sir!"
"It's alright Boda." The Marshall said. "I know this must be overwhelming for you considering your past with the creature." He looked at her with sympathetic eyes and Boda didn't dare look back.
"Your thirst for revenge must be as strong as mine. But not too long now." He turned back to his maps. "I trust you'll keep the news of a retreat a secret from the men for a little while longer." He said. The unspoken order hung in the air.
"Sir." And with that Angrboda dismissed herself. Choosing to put on her helmet and step back outside. She saw some of the patrolling soldiers in the distance. They had a small fire going and beckoned her over but she ignored them.
A quick patrol of the camp showed her what she feared. Pieces of the cloak in very obvious places, like they'd been kept with the intention of being discovered. It stood out plainly if you knew what to look for, which she did. She felt a chill run up her spine as she stared into the darkness, wondering if the Faerie stood watching her now.
How had it gotten so close to camp in the first place?
After that day, Angrboda renewed her patrol with renewed vigor. Finding and ruthlessly destroying any and every trace of clothing she found.
But it didn't matter much. Perhaps the faerie had grown impatient of waiting for them to follow as it wanted. So it decided to stop playing the game of hide and seek and struck first. A soldier died. And just like that the roles of both sides had been switched and the hunters had now become the hunted.
Picture is not mine