SONDER : ALPHA, Leader of Lost Souls

1 § 0 Many years ago… The Lady could hear the screams of rage, so steeped in fury, the sweet note of vengeance highlighting its dissonant timbre. It drew her from her repose, from deep within her sanctuary-prison. The scream echoed the beat in her own heart, the one sweet note that kept her going. She waved her hand over the fog and mist that permeated the air, so she could see the owner of the scream. The Lady purred as a female took form before her. Oh yes, this one. This one was fury incarnate. The girl shrieked, clawing her flimsy, mortal fingernails over the faces of her would-be attackers, drawing rivulets of red. She elbowed, she kicked, she writhed and ducked and wove through soldiers. A simple farm girl, it appeared, but so consumed was she that seasoned warriors around her struggled to take her. She slid in the mud and rivers of blood as the scene continued to take shape, The Lady expanding its picture with another flick of her wrist. Yes, it was a farm. A village. A cluster of round and oblong mortal dwellings. Some roofs were shingled, others were thick clusters of hay. Wooden beams encircled the walls. It seemed these people were her own, or, who her people had been, were, or would become. Time was a slippery thing. As slippery as the pools of blood the girl she watched slid in, a soldier leaping across her and holding the shrieking thing down. She slashed her dirty nails over his face and he yelled, clasping her wrist, so she bit him, her head lashing forward and digging into his cheek. The Lady chuckled. The girl she watched bucked him off, rolled to her feet and ran, her red hair trailing behind her. The girl made it to her destination: a headless form. A girl’s form, smaller than this one. She dropped to her knees and clutched the body to her, screaming and sobbing at once. Another form beside her drew up, gurgling, reaching for the girl. The redheaded fury grasped those fingers before her hand could fall back to the earth, and she exhaled her final words, “the Gods are always listening, be careful what you wish for…” The girl threw back her head and screamed again, raw, primal, angry, seething. She clutched the body once more, then set it down. She crawled to the other form, kissed a scarred and disfigured cheek, folding its hands over its breast and closing its eyes. She stroked its face, tears streaming, shoulders shaking. Then, she took a dagger from the corpse’s belt. The Lady perked an eyebrow at the scene. Perhaps her mother? And perhaps a younger sister. The Lady roused further from her throne. She would help this girl. Were she to fall, she could not keep her. And The Lady must keep this fury, so she could not allow her to fall. The other two would have heard her, would also be watching, and waiting. Waiting for her to die in glory. So, she would not. Now, to slip her cage, so she could steal her prize. ~*~*~ 1 § 1 Present day… It had to be all of them, or none of them. Azrael dodged the hand reaching for his sleeve, lunging across the line of fire. He zigged and zagged across the gap and slid in the dirt to the other side. “You're going to get us all killed!” He ignored the plea. They didn’t understand. They all had to get home, or die out here. They couldn’t be taken. Amid the bullets, arrows, and flashing blades locked in combat, Azrael only had eyes for the sunless sky. She was hidden behind clouds, the heavens in turmoil. A warning. His gut clenched. His own metal flashed, descending into a shoulder. His second blade arced his silver bite into another, then a swift, successive third. There was no challenge, not for him. The excitement rose in his blood. As he ran across a second line of fire, for a moment, he felt nothing but life as he became the harbinger of death. It was easy for Azrael to be brave, but it wasn’t bravery he felt: it was invincibility. But the same couldn’t be said for his men. For them, he was terrified. They could never comprehend his fear, his fervour to bring them home. Why he must bring them home. If he couldn’t, they would know his world, the one without the sun. He envied them their blindness. Another zig-zag maneuver and he rolled next to one of his stranded soldiers hiding behind a crude blockade. The soldier yanked his stiffened leg out of the way of the man-missile at the last second, “watch it! Clumsy piece of lunacy!” Swears followed as Azrael came to a stop, grasping his comrade's knee. “You nag like my mother,” he grumbled, fingers rough as he turned Mikey's leg. “Sod off! You should be back with the others-” “It's just an arrowhead. To the knee,” he smirked. “Here-” ”Don't you d-” Mikey screamed as Azrael tore it free, ripping a strip from his own shirt to bandage the wound tightly, fingers quick and practiced. As Mikey groaned, Azrael hauled him up, his voice softening, “let's get you outta here.” “Bloody slave driver! Can you give me a minute?” Azrael ignored Mikey's complaints, watching the other side of the field for his window of opportunity. If he timed it right, he'd get them to safety in one shot. He had to, Mikey was his friend. It was all of them, or none of them. He bolted, pulling Mikey along with him as quickly as he could make him limp. Mikey yelped when his ankle twisted but they couldn't stop. They'd miss the window. On the other side his soldiers started yelling orders to cover their commander. Suddenly he dropped his friend, then he heard the shot. “Az!” His ears rang and his head reeled, but he didn't have time to stop. “Az, leave me and run!” He grasped for Mikey, but his hand didn't respond. He heard another shot and ducked. He grit his teeth so hard they gnashed. Then he saw it: a charging mass of fur and teeth and claws. Some kind of creature roared so loud he thought the ground had trembled, then it launched. The world slowed, his heart beating in his ears. Seconds were an eternity as he snatched up his friend with his other arm, hauling him up and he ran as fast as he could. But he wasn’t fast enough: he shoved Mikey as hard as he could out of the way. Azrael went flying, hitting the ground and sliding several feet. His head bounced on the turf like a football, his ears rang. And he screamed as nothing but blinding pain seared across his mind. His chest was heavy and he opened his eyes, staring up into that thing’s snarling maw. He froze as the beast’s lips dripped with blood, its claws digging into his chest to keep him pinned. It snarled and for a heartbeat Azrael could do nothing, comprehend nothing. Too late he reached up to push: it reared back but he managed to stop it from reaching his throat. Instead the creature stole a chunk of flesh from his wounded shoulder. Something animalistic flared in his veins as he roared, bucking the beast and rolling it off, scrambling to his feet as his arm sagged limp and lifeless. He took two halting steps, then the sudden blood loss caught up to him faster than the creature could and he poured into the dirt, head spinning, pinpricks crowding his vision. He tried to push himself up, refusing to look at his shoulder, refusing to acknowledge the pain. He had to stay conscious. His body was giving up. But he couldn’t. He had one more man to bring home, Luke. His ears rang, and he wondered dimly if this time he had gone too far. Maybe, he wondered, this time he wouldn’t make it. His allies were close, and all he needed now was to crawl in the dirt to the crude barricade, the one he had almost made it to with Mikey. He lifted his head, relieved, when he saw they had reached Mikey and were dragging him to safety, tucking his feet into their trench as the man screamed to leave him and get Azrael instead. What a stupid demand. Who did Azrael have to go back to? "Az? Az! Quick, here!" Hands tugged at him. He couldn’t think hard enough to identify whose hands they were. Darkness threatened his sight. The beast howled and he shivered, head down. “Hey, stay with me! I got you!” He felt himself pitch forward into the dirt again. He heard the loading of a revolver. He smelt the sweetness of the earth, then. It had rained recently, and he always loved that smell, a smell you could only find in this world. He buried his nose deeper, his breathing steady now as he felt tired. So tired. He smiled, remembering the children playing in the rain just the other day. Tiny Jophiel, plucking up worms, chasing after his friends as they ran from the bugs. Azrael closed his eyes so he could see them better. Raffie, making mud pies as his mother tried to rush him back inside to not catch cold. Then Lulubell dumping a full pail of rainwater over her daddy’s head as Luke pretended to melt. Luke. Azrael lifted his head, his vision splitting. Three Lukes faced off against the beast that had come back for him. The beast was huge, and angry, and Luke was limping. Azrael tried to crawl to Luke. He had to do something. He had to get up. He fell flat again. Everything went dark. The cost of bravery would be paid by Luke’s baby girl.