Prose Magica: The Ballad of the Seventeenth Part 13

One thousand five hundred feet above the ground, two girls stared out over the city. Green and red lights draped the buildings, tall blocks of glass and concrete crowned with a coating of frost. The two of them gazed without a sound; the silence spoke every word they would need. Cars zipped by as the lights danced in the night for the girls, reflecting in their twin pairs of eyes.

The first was tall and wore a black baseball cap atop flowing golden blonde hair. She was graceful and elegant, her face beautiful and her body womanly. She wore a black winter coat and a pair of scuffed denim jeans - a care-free contrast to the air that surrounded her.

Her arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a much younger girl; the top of her white-haired head didn't even reach the blonde's shoulders. Her bright eyes, the colour of the winter sky, twinkled as the city lights reflected off of them, darting back and forth as different pin pricks of brightness caught her attention. In her hand was a brand new notepad, clutched tightly to her chest as if she feared it would somehow fall through the window before her and disappear into the streets.

"Odette," the blonde started, moving her hand up to ruffle the shorter girl's hair before she came to rest her cheek against the silvery mess, "what is a legend?"

Odette's eyes shifted up as she didn't dare move her head. "My lady?"

"A legend," the blonde repeated, gesturing with her free hand for emphasis. "We are immortal. We fight monsters no god would dare to dream, and we are forgotten. Our songs unsung, our stories untold. We live, we die, we fight like heroes and the world is none the wiser. Sounds to me like the stuff of legends and yet," a near-silent hint of a sigh wisped through her lips, "here we are."

Odette remained silent as she slowly turned her head up to face the Warmaster. The city lights reflected off of the blonde's somber eyes, a melancholic smile curling her lips ever so slightly. Odette had found her in such moods with increasing frequency in the past weeks. At first, she was worried that the Warmaster was finally beginning to succumb to the strains of office, but it had slowly begun to seem like something far more - something Odette had no hope of placing with all of four years of experience.

"I've been doing this job for a very," the Warmaster hesitated and hugged the shorter girl more even tightly, "very long time. I can't even remember the first witch I fought, but I'm sure that we must have been friends. And then I kept fighting and the people around me kept dying. First a few, then dozens, then hundreds.” She paused again, her eyes sinking to floor. “I'm sure I've seen at least a thousand magical girls die around me and I remember so precious few of them."

It scared Odette. It scared her to hear her mentor say such things; her mentor, who was a bastion of positivity and enthusiasm every day, no matter what misfortune befell her. It was a rare day when the blonde even spoke about her past at all, never mind act so reminiscent. To Odette, her teacher had never looked so old as she did that night.

"I'm tired, Odette," the Warmaster murmured, almost as if she didn't want the silver-haired girl to hear it. "I think," she hesitated, as though reconsidering her words for a brief moment before continuing, "I think our next witch hunt shall be my last."

"You're going to retire?" The question seemed as if it should have been obvious and yet, somehow it wasn't.

The blonde's body shook against Odette's as she laughed quietly. "Something like that."

"But what about the Officio?" The shorter girl's question sounded far more pleading than she intended. "What- What's going to happen if you leave?"

"You'll manage," the Warmaster's care-free response did nothing to ease Odette's mind. "Why do you think I made you Warmaster-in-training, hm? Did you think I would always be Warmaster?"

"Of- Of course not, but..." Of course she did. Odette couldn't imagine a world without the woman who had practically raised her. Being Warmaster-in-training... That was a contingency plan. A 'just-in-case' that would end up necessary. At least, that was what she had always told herself.

"You'll do a fine job," the blonde assured her, rubbing her cheek into Odette's long, silver hair. "Someday you'll become the hero I never could be. 'The Winter Warmaster' they'll call you." The Warmaster ran her hand through the shorter girl's hair again as she lifted her face. "I'm sure of it."

Odette looked up at the lights twinkling in the blonde's big, blue eyes. She saw a girl who could have been no more than twenty. She saw an old woman who was several times that age. But more than anything else, she saw someone who had seen a lifetime of grief and anguish and had finally, at long last, had enough.

Her name was Brie Eldridge, First among the Seventeenth.

Five days later, on a cold winter morning, she taught Odette what it meant to become a legend.

✱✱✱

After nine days, Odette remembered. Her body was battered and broken; the golden hook still pierced her chest just below her left shoulder, hanging her as if she were little more than a piece of meat in a butcher shop. Her eyepatch was adhered to her face with dried blood that trickled down from her scalp. The wound in her chest had long since faded into a dull ache that stung every time the wind picked up and tore it open anew. The once white and platinum costume that she still wore was dirtied and caked with blood from the cuts and bruises that decorated her body.

Odette's mind slowly churned to life like a car starting for the first time in months. Memories of the past several days trickled in as her body began to respond to her commands once more. Her fingers and toes cracked and twitched as new life flowed into them at long last. The girl wheezed as her lungs pulled in the first breath of air they'd felt in days, the taste of fresh, cold air washing over her tongue as life was quite literally breathed into her. For the first time in years, Odette felt cold.

But the cold belonged to her.

With a shallow breath, the fingers of her right hand arched. That hand balled up into a fist. Every muscle in her body tensed for a brief moment.

Then she felt it.

The feeling spread from her chest, down her arms and legs, up to her head then out to her fingers, her toes and her ears. It wasn't quite warmth - that was a feeling she would have to reluctantly go without for the time being - it was more a simple absence of cold. That would be enough to keep her moving.

Odette's mind turned over once more as she regained feeling. A rough groan escaped her lungs as they continued to work; forced, painful breaths slowly easing out until they almost stopped hurting. Thoughts began to pour in as more than simple pictures and images. Words formed. Ideas. Passions. Regrets. Everything flooded in at once as if a dam had finally cracked and burst within her head.

Three years ago, she had brought the Seventeenth Officio back from the brink of annihilation with her own two hands. When half of the Officio had deserted and another tenth witched out from grief, it was by Odette's word that the remnants had held the line. It was by her hand alone that Brie's legacy lived on.

And it was by her hand that it had slipped away and crumbled before her eyes.

By her hand that the Seventeenth had become one of the weakest of the Twenty.

"Every girl who wants a cake", as the Bartender had put it - though not without her own colourfully-worded spin. That was what the Seventeenth's policy had become following Brie's demise. A proud bastion of strength turned to a laughingstock before Odette's eyes. For the first time in years, she saw what she had become. She was a perfect mirror of the masses that once followed her. Proud and awe-inspiring for a time... Before everything slid away. After Miranda's death, Odette had become little more than a dog off its chain - snapping and picking fights at every opportunity while her Officio deteriorated around her.

An Officio of legends turned to nothing under her command.

She would have said something if she could; something witty or poignant as she always used to. There was a time where she was known for her charisma and gravitas. Now, however, her chest was too weak and her throat was aching and dry. Instead, anything she might have had to say came out as a cough that shook her body and ripped the stuck flesh away from the golden hook.

It was only by harnessing the sensation of that pain that she managed to pry open her single eye at long last. Surprisingly, it didn't take long at all for her lone pupil to adjust after being closed for days. The world around her was painted in shades of black and grey by the yellowing moon that hung overhead. It wasn't quite at its peak - that would have meant something to her if she was in any condition to think about it.

Crickets sang, playing their own distant fanfare for Odette's reawakening. She was in a forest, she could tell that much. She had been hung from a tree at the edge of a clearing, at the very center of which she could make out an illuminated box. The more she squinted, the more lines began to form as the shapes around her became distinguished. The contours and shadows of the box slowly came into focus, proving to be a wooden cabin with lamp left on porch - the light barely reaching across the clearing. Every now and again, Odette could make out signs of movement through the windows.

With a second flex of her hand, she felt the wind begin to pick up as cold, crisp air flowed between spread fingers. Odette's hanging body swayed in the breeze, cradled as though the wind were a mother rocking her child to sleep. It whistled between the branches and trees, singing a shrill lullaby for the child of the cold. With her one hand, she motioned once more, calling to the northerly and bidding it play her a symphony.

As she felt the first snowflake touch and melt upon her nose, a smile crept up Odette's battered and bloodied face. Her hand clenched into a fist; the windy canon ceased.

✱✱✱

Fennel Vance stepped up to Odette, craning her messy-haired head from side to side as she stared up at the hanging girl. One hand idly spun one end of the golden hook while the other hand tugged lightly on the chain, making the one-eyed girl bob up and down lifelessly.

"Odette," the Wolf muttered, giving the chain a stronger tug.

No response.

"Odeeeette," Fennel drawled, tapping her foot anxiously. "Shit, if you die on me I'm gonna be in a shit load of trou-"

"Water."

The word came out as a wheeze through a burning throat. It was as much a demand as it was a plea. Fennel nodded, tilting her head from side to side as she did. "Water, huh?" She said, a bemused grin appearing on her face. "Y'know what? As a reward for bein' such a trooper, you got it! I'll be right back, you hang tight."

Odette tried tell the other girl to go fuck herself. Instead, it seared her aching throat and came out as a long bout of coughing - a bout of coughing that then rocked the hook sticking out of her shoulder and made her bite her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. She stared down the other girl as she skipped off to the cabin, lip quivering and twitching in a mixture of pain and fury.

The silver-haired girl didn't know exactly how long it took Fennel to return with that blessed bottle of water. Something told her that she must have slipped out of consciousness some time during the wait. A heavy clinking sounded as she felt her body slowly drop toward the ground, prompting her to open a heavy-lidded eye. Just as she felt the tips of her toes brush the ground, a bottle of water was unceremoniously jammed into her mouth and tilted up. She coughed and sputtered at the sudden sensation before Fennel yanked the bottle away.

"Hah!" She barked, shaking the chain still clutched in her other hand, adding a high-pitched echo as it jangled "Oh man! You should see your face right now! Okay, okay, that was mean. For real this time."

The second time, Fennel allowed Odette to place her lips around the mouth of the bottle and lifted gently, allowing the suspended girl to drink properly. It wasn't until the bottle was empty that the Wolf pulled it away, smiling wickedly at her captive.

"So whatcha say?" She asked. "Ready to throw up your arms and praise the Blessed Lady? Or whatever you want to do, really. Up to you. I ain't gonna tell you how to be one of Her champions. Not like it's m-"

Fennel halted her musings and cocked an eyebrow at Odette. Her body seemed to be spasming with growing intensity and it took the messy-haired girl a few moments to realize that she was, in fact, laughing.

"The fuck are you havin' a chuckle abo-"

And that's when Odette did it. With a sudden exhale, she spat. Funny as it was, it was the only thing she could think of. She'd managed to force herself only to drink as much as was absolutely necessary. The water seemed to distort and twist in mid-air, shimmering unnaturally as it flew. Fennel barely had time for the event to register in her mind. She let out a horrid screech and dropped to her knees as the glistening mass struck her face. The golden chain hit the ground as both hands raced to clutch and claw at the site of the impact.

"MY EYE," Fennel wailed, her voice cracking as she screamed. "IT'S IN MY FUCKIN' EYE!"

Odette's body collided with the ground, no longer held aloft by the hook impaling her chest. The other girl's gaze twisted up at her. She glared with a single blackened eye, a jagged shard of ice jutting from the other. Her snarling face was decorated with dozens of cuts and slices from smaller shards that ran the gamut from those no bigger than paper cuts to a ragged gash slicing open one side of her mouth.

"You bitch!" Fennel snarled, wiping the blood from her cheek on one sleeve as she picked up her golden chain once more. "You FUCKING BITCH!"

Odette had only just finished dusting her self off when she felt the other girl yank her closer. She stumbled and nearly tripped as the chain was reeled in, finally stopping when she was nearly face to face with the Wolf. Yet, still she continued to laugh and giggle as if there was some unspoken joke that Fennel simply wasn't getting.

It wasn't until she had already opened her mouth to speak that the messy-haired girl finally understood. Her one remaining eye widened in a mixture of confusion and fear as the first snowflake came to rest on Odette's shoulder. In seconds, one snowflake turned to dozens, dozens turned to hundreds and hundreds became a blizzard.

Fennel's hand shot out toward Odette's throat, then passed right through it as though the smaller girl didn't even exist. The Wolf's face contorted in rage while her target flashed a wicked grin - one that mimicked her own frequent expression - as her body seemed to fade into the snowstorm. In moments, Odette was gone; only dancing snow marked the place where she once stood.

"I have to hand it to you," the one-eyed girl called out, her voice carried on the wind, "you really gave me some time to think. I needed that."

Fennel's head turned around at a speed that made Odette wonder how she didn't snap her own neck. There the Winter Warmaster stood in the middle of clearing, her face still bloodied but her costume fresh and clean. The hole in her chest was iced over, providing a much-needed numbing cold. Her figure seemed to shimmer and shift as the snow passed between them, her features changing subtly. One moment her hair was short as it had been for years, the next it was down to her waist. Fennel could even swear that for a brief second she wore a black baseball cap - the same that had been past down from her predecessor.

"Come on then," Odette beckoned, cracking her knuckles. Her voice seemed to speak as two; one whispering quietly through the air, the other a howling, raging gale. "Show me what this Blessed Lady's chosen are made of!"

That was all the reason Fennel needed to charge. Her feet fell through an inch of snow as she rushed her opponent, a hook clutched in either hand. Her anger, however, blinded her. She never stopped to think why her opponent had stopped to call out to her. She didn't question why Odette seemed to do so while appearing entirely unarmed.

As the first golden blow struck her, the silver-haired girl burst like a bubble into a million twirling snowflakes. A split-second later, her shin slammed into Fennel's ribcage with an audible crack.

The former Warmaster felt exhilarated as fresh adrenaline pumped through her veins. She had realized her biggest mistake in her last engagement. Her spears forced her to fight at mid-range, exactly where the Wolf was strongest. She had to get close - get right up in her opponents face - in order to nullify Fennel's advantage. So she decided on the simplest path. She wouldn't use her spears at all.

Fennel's spine twisted as she brought one hook around in a downswing. Odette, however, was faster. One hand caught the Wolf's wrist while she brought her heel down on the girl's foot. She wasn't in any mood to fight honourably.

A moment too late, Odette noticed the chain coiling around her foot. Fennel yanked hard, bringing the silver-haired girl to the ground. She had no choice but to roll away as hook after hook struck the ground. The chain went taut as she reached her limit. Suddenly remembering something a fellow Warmaster had taught her during one particular sparring match, she shoved herself off the ground with one arm and swung her leg around in a wide arc. The chain tangled in Fennel's legs and swept her off her feet while Odette pulled herself up and delivered a violent stomp to the other girl's right elbow.

Fennel swore as she pulled herself up - only to find that Odette had disappeared yet again. She squinted into the storm with her one remaining eye as she listened for footsteps. It was as if she had fallen into an entirely new world. The trees, her cabin, everything seemed to have disappeared into the blizzard.

Every so often, Fennel swore she could see movement. Figures moved in the snow, distant enough that she couldn't quite make out their features. A chill crept up her spine as she realized with a silent horror that the pair weren't alone in the storm.

It was then that Odette reappeared. Her quick footsteps crunched through two inches of snow. Fennel barely had time to dodge a spear aimed at her knee, moving so that it instead sliced an inch deep cut in her thigh. Her hook pierced the bottom of the former Warmaster's black cloak, catching her as she tried to run past.

As the chain jerked and tore at her cloak, Odette did the one thing that no opponent ever seemed to see coming - she threw a snowball. It hit the side of Fennel's face with a satisfying "whump" and the girl howled in pain once more.

"THAT HAD ICE IN IT," she screeched, clawing at near-invisible pins of ice that dotted her cheek. "WHAT IS WITH YOU AND THRO-"

Odette took the opportunity to knock the air out of Fennel's lungs with a firm blow to the gut. The Wolf doubled back, swinging her chains in a wide arc as rage and frustration overtook her. Her other arm hung limp as her vision went red. The silver-haired girl had managed to throw her in a blind fury, and with that, the fight was already over.

The former Warmaster disappeared into the snow again as one hook soared through the air where she once stood. The next second, she was behind Fennel. Odette seized her opponent by back of her collar and took another handful of fabric, then HEAVED. The Blessed Lady's chosen blinked as it dawned on her that she was suddenly soaring through the air. Another moment later, she crashed head-first through the window of her cabin and collided with the floor while the golden chain clattered and slid to the other side of the room.

The one-eyed girl stepped through the broken window, shards of glass crackling under foot as she slowly strode over to her opponent. Fennel tried desperately to crawl over to her weapon, her one good hand out-stretched toward it, grasping in vain. That was, until a silver-headed spear nailed her hand to the floor.

"Shit," Fennel muttered. With one hand impaled and the other arm broken at the elbow, she knew when she was beaten.

Odette slumped down into a nearby armchair and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She reached behind herself and pulled that old pack of cherry-flavoured cigarettes out of her cloak, along with a lighter. She lit one clumsily - the second one of her life - then took a long drag on it, coughing and sputtering as the smoke entered her lungs.

"Didn't know y'smoked," the grounded girl observed, still pinned on her stomach.

"I don't."

Fennel made a muted grunt of acknowledgement, then groaned as she tried turning herself to look at Odette. "'s a filthy habit. Doesn't really suitcha, if y'ask me."

Odette nodded before putting the smoke out on the icy patch on her chest. "You got a bathroom?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah," the Wolf answered. "It's just," her head jerked toward a door on the far side of the room, just beside where the golden chain currently rested, "over there. Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, I gotcha. Take yer time, I ain't goin' nowhere any time soon."

"Thanks."

The one-eyed girl pulled herself out of her seemingly extraordinarily comfortable chair and made her way into the tiny closet that called itself a bathroom. There was little more than a toilet, sink and, fortunately, a mirror. After a moment's hesitation, she forced herself to do what had to be done.

She reached up and, with both hands, slowly pried the eyepatch off of her face. She winced as the dried blood around the edge was pulled free of her face, forming an eyepatch-shaped ring around the socket that once held her left eye. Currently, however, it was occupied by a swirling, glistening black and blue orb - Odette's soulgem. She stared at it for some time before palming the last of her on-hand grief seeds and tapping it to the gem. It wasn't entirely pure, but it would last for the time being.

Odette spent some time cleaning herself up. She was amazed at how there always seemed to be more dried blood that she hadn't washed off. Finally, thinking herself presentable enough, she stepped out. One hand subconsciously reached down and picked the golden hooks off of the ground and slung them over one shoulder. A moment later, she found Fennel's soulgem and pocketed it after her costume shifted back to her casual clothing.

"How do I get out of here?" Odette asked, lighting up a third cigarette.

"Yer gonna wanna go out that door," Fennel thrust her head at what appeared to be the front door. "Then you keep going down the dirt road. Make a left at the paved one and there should be a gas station with a payphone about a mile down."

"Thanks," the former Warmaster muttered a second time. She was amazed at how helpful the other girl was went they weren't trying to kill each other.

Odette tossed the remainder of the pack of cigarettes into a trashcan near the front door, followed by the one she was currently smoking and the lighter. She watched until she saw smoke begin to rise before stepping out. Fennel called something after her, but Odette's mind was already long gone. She didn't remember much of the walk to the gas station, or much after it at that.

She called HQ. Holly answered. Someone cried. The world went black and Odette slept easy knowing that the Winter Warmaster had returned.