Arthurian Cultivation

Of the possible ways my wedding night could go, none of my wildest guesses had included this many knives. My planning had included the possibility of some, but this was excessive. Dancing around a snow-laden conifer, I winced as another blade punched through in a burst of snow and pine needles.

“Would you stop!” I called, managing to duck as another knife sailed over my head, honing in on the source of the sound even muted by the snow and trees.

“Raaaghhh!” came the call from my darling betrothed.

“Well be like that then.” I slid down a hill, my fine clothes continuing to do nothing but soak up the snow. Pulling glamour from my hearth, the core of my cultivation. Gentle focused breaths kindling the flame, I pushed that heat to my muscles and skin.

The burst of glamour chased away the cold and fatigue and I was bounding across the snow. My gifts were good for heat, but I had to pull on my limited reserves, there was no ash or smoke in this frozen forest from which to pull the glamour.

“Come back you annoying rabbit.” The voice called out, the echo deadened by the snow and densely packed trees.

“My fair maiden I shall continue to hare away, would it be possible for us to meet on the morrow?” I couldn’t afford to die here. I might get away with dying tomorrow though. That could work.

“Just let me kill you, you utter waste of blood and steel.”

I continued to run through the forest, the crisp smell of winter taunting me with its pleasant tones as I ploughed through it in my regal best. My hearth fluttered in my chest and I struggled to maintain the bellows-like breathing technique I needed to keep my hearth from being reduced to embers.

I was marginally faster than my bride, but the exertion was taking its toll. I was far more flushed than my blushing bride would likely be. My heart was in my ears and my breath felt like claws in my throat. Stuck at the peak of the wood stage, having only fire hardened my, well everything, I was inferior to her. She was at peak-bronze and had many times my reserves.

The only reason I had not already been slain was that I’d been stuck at the peak for a long time and had the time to make my body a perfect example of that limited layer of cultivation. I also had my Ash & Smoke gift helping to keep me warm, while not fire they were arguably more useful right now as I kept a swirling billow of smoke rushing around underneath my starched finery.

My bride's gift I assumed had to do with blades, that or she had some form of enchantment to summon the damn things. It was an impressive technique to form copies like that. I’d only seen the one under her dress. That gave me an idea.

“My lady of fair skin and golden hair, my soul weeps at the sin I committed in entering our bridal suite and seeing you in an unbecoming state, I should’ve tended my apologies then.”

“You jumped out the window!”

“Well, you were strapping a knife into your wedding garter. I am of course keen to make my betrothed happy but the inclusion of blades in our underclothes seems a topic that should be introduced after we had some chance to get to know each other.”

“Come here, you useless little cultivator. Your family is a group of sick cultists, you’re the runt, and your body is full of impurities, you’re already dead thrice over! You just haven’t realised it yet.”

I dodged another hurled blade. Confirming something with a glance, this one was identical to the others she’d thrown. Down to a scratch on the pommel, truly wonderful how a run for one's life can focus the mind on the least important details.

I could also sense the fae nature of it. It must come from her gifts, I’d heard of techniques like this during my long years of study. It also confirmed that whatever fae gift she was accessing was likely to do with the magic of blades and made things.

That allowed me the smallest glimpse of hope. Those gifts rarely did anything to battle the cold. Meaning every minute out here in this chill her hearth would be pulled on to sustain her, and with all the blades she was summoning that had to run out soon. Already she was throwing fewer knives than before.

The other thing I had on my side was that frankly, my betrothed was not thinking straight. I slid through the wilderness with ease, while she barreled through it all. She kept talking to me and wasting time throwing blades, both of which had proven to offer little chance of stopping me.

If she’d been smart she’d have simply rushed out in front of me, throwing everything into getting ahead of me, and then knifed me, or just battered me to the ground with her overwhelming strength.

All this wasted time was giving me chances, chances to plot, chances to find an escape, chances to get that lucky break!

And I think I’d just found it. A shallow river that was yet to freeze over. Until this moment I’d had no way to hide my tracks. Should I go upstream or down? Either way, she’d see the trail disappear but then she’d have to make a decision! I could buy time.

Both routes were quickly lost around a bend, upriver offered more coverage and took me further from Horkenstone Keep, which was to be the site of the wedding, joining two minor arms of the great houses Harkley and Chox.

Downriver it was. Maeve Chox seemed to be a direct kind of person. My knowledge was she was stuck at a bottleneck at peak Bronze and the little gossip I'd collected had made her out to have taken that poorly.

I’d built up quite the lead, and even as I ran round the bend of the river I could still hear her bulling through the forest. I kept on for a short distance before pausing, trying to quell the breaths that sucked at my lungs and quiet my heart that rang louder than a blacksmith's hammer on an anvil.

I took a moment to appreciate the world around me. Being hunted through ice and snow was no reason to lose sight of the wonderful world around me.

Peering back over the serene scene of crisp snow, little crystals of ice dancing through the wind that blew auspiciously across the river aiding my deception further I had time to consider that it really was a rather beautiful forest to be chased through. I was not used to pines, the sharp green that peaked out from under the blanket of snow adding a sense of life missing from the slumbering titans of bare oaks, birch and spruce of my native Albion.

Maeve finally caught up. She was wearing the ragged remains of her wedding gown, a beautiful green and blue ensemble that wove together Harkley and Chox colours, the delicate designs that had hidden the muscular form of the cultivator long destroyed. Beautiful hazel eyes stared out from perfectly manicured eyebrows, the effect somewhat ruined as the veil of lace that had once merely hinted at the hidden beauty below now plastered over her golden tresses, torn loose of the delicate plats she’d been sporting earlier.

She was a stunning woman indeed. I did prefer the demure look she’d had before, this look had too many knives for my tastes. She was wielding a pair of blades, a slender needle-tipped one identical to the others she’d thrown, the other a brutal tool as long as my forearm. Arriving at the river she stumbled to a stop, not foolish enough to spot the abrupt end to my trail.

She looked both ways, and I could practically see the moment she spotted Horkenstone Keep, illuminated by the setting sun behind me. Grunting the warrior maiden turned to charge upstream, calling out a string of curses.

I counted my lucky stars I’d been betrothed to her. This would’ve been hellishly more difficult if she’d been at all competent.

Not willing to risk her showing some heretofore unseen intelligence by doubling back, I continued on my way stealthily. Or as stealthy as one could be in shoes filled with water. With any luck, I’d keep well enough away from her long enough for the sun to set. Then I could get on with my proper escape plan. This was frustrating for certain, but it wasn’t the end of the world. After all, it’s not like I’d ever planned to spend my wedding night in bed with the woman.

Not when I’d never intended to be at the altar.

This was my one and only chance to escape those who called themselves my family, I was not going to let something as trifling as a church worth of nobles and a maniac of a bride stop the work of nearly half a decade.

The Harkleys had my hate from the moment they ‘saved’ me. They’d earned my ‘betrayal’ a thousand times over by the torture they’d put me through.

Think happy thoughts. No point going to those dark places. Look at where you are! I’m outside having a nice stroll through the forest, and for the first time in months there’s not a handler in sight.

Continuing along the river I found more luck. There was a cliff, the water trickled into the edge of a frozen lake, where the water cascaded and the ice still struggled to spread but I knew it would be mere weeks before the spring thaw turned the whole space into slush.

The Winter Court was waning, passing control to the Spring Lords. I was only too happy to see the evidence. Running and hiding through the depths of winter would’ve been tough.

Taking time to breathe, I channelled heat into my core. As ever I struggled to pull in glamour from the world around me, my ruined channels gunked up by my family's haste to turn me into a marketable product and my own machinations. Maeve had technically not been wrong that for cultivators that was a death sentence.

Not that I agreed personally. It was true that with all those impurities a cultivator could never ascend to a higher level of Cultivation and gain immortality. I, who’d never wanted nor sought to be a cultivator took the idea of living twice as long as nearly anyone I’d actually liked from my ‘peasant’ days as equal to ‘death’ with a pinch of salt.

I slipped down the wall, the area around the falls was mostly clear of ice. My arms ached, and some fool was pounding ice-coated needles into my fingers but I managed to get down the wall with minimal fuss. I didn’t dare test the ice beside the falls instead working along the cliff face till I spotted some ice that had animal tracks upon it.

Gingerly I tested the ice and while it gave a warning creak it wasn’t too worrisome. The light of the sun was nothing but fading embers peeking over the horizon. Soon it would be night proper, but rather than stumbling about I had a path to follow. I’d seen this cliff take me away from the keep. I just had to follow it.

The moon spirit was waning at this time, a perfect amount of light to navigate but not so much to make me stand out. It’d even stopped snowing. Situation just needed a bit of polish and it’d all be golden.

A few flakes of snow fell, fine maybe a bit more than a bit of polish. More snow fell, in heavier clumps. Odd was all I thought before my heart launched itself into my throat.

I looked up. Maeve was looking down from the top of the cliff at me. The light just strong enough for it to catch on her eyes. You know given all the stories I’d heard of heartache and woe, I’d come to expect walking out on one's spouse to be an easy task.

The knife glinted in her hand, but the angle was all wrong, The cliff loomed over me, not enough to block line of sight, but enough to make the throw awkward. She weighed up the shot and then did something that surprised me. She left.

For a few seconds, I hoped. It was a bad habit but I refused to give it up.

I strained to listen, pumping the bellows of my hearth. Pushing the power to my ears. Then I heard it, the sound of beating feet.

“No, don’t do that!” My shout was too late, she leapt over the edge of the cliff and plummeted twenty foot.

For a cultivator a fall like that was nothing. She’d roll with the landing and not even notice it.

I watched in despair as my betrothed disappeared into the icy water. A few bubbles and a cracked window of ice were the only marks of her passing.

Internally I cringed. Maeve might be at Bronze stage but from everything I'd seen neither of her aspects were those that intrinsically generated heat. Given her limited cultivation and the fact she’d been using her power for the last two hours of pursuit, there was a good chance that this could kill her.

I could only watch, right now under the ice she was as good as dead. I might be more capable of gathering warmth and heat but that came from swirling ash and smoke, not something that would handle submersion well.

A blade blasted through the ice. She rose out thrashing about, the ice too thin to support her was churned and shattered. She was in full panic and worse she was heading away from the shore.

I cursed. I could leave her to her fate. It was the smart thing to do.

That’s what my family would do.

“I better not get stabbed for this,” I muttered to myself.