When All Is Lost...

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There is something to be said about early mornings and their freshness. the promise of possibilities. Everything feels doable. That’s how the Daughter of Summer felt when she left the Grandmaster. There were many threads to follow, some demanding more of Sheryl’s time and attention over others. But there was one, a small and transparent thread, half forgotten (or remembered), one she had been meaning to pursue since her first journey through the shadows of the Raven Queen’s Temple. Out of all the visions the Matron of Ravens had given her, it was the one that befuddled her the most.

A warm home with familiar faces of a halfling family she had never met…

There is a soft woof from overhead, rocking the stable doors of the Order compound with its rumbling. Sheryl looks up and sees two massive, muddy paws draped over the ledge, a big tongue lolling out, and bright brown eyes that seemed to say hello.

“Good morning Frankie,” Sheryl calls up with a smile and a wave to the large hound. “Is Baine up there with you?”

A messy pile of black hair pokes out next to the massive hound and Baine gives her a cheerful smile despite the early hour.

“Well if it isn’t the Steel Wind herself!”

Baine sticks his head further out from the Watchtower platform, seemingly lying down on his stomach to get a better view.

“Come to see the bossman? Are you off already or do you want to come up?”

He casts a quick glance at the sky. “It’s the first decent sunrise since autumn. Means good things are coming, I reckon. Come have a look.”

“That sounds lovely! Be right there,” she says.

Astra trots up beside her, answering her call to help her get up to the watchtower faster. Kneeling down, Sheryl swiftly climbs up and then in one fluid motion Astra takes off. In two wing beats she is looping around the tower, a playful whinney called out in greeting. Frankie stands up, giant tail wagging furiously and hitting Baine repeatedly in the face where he’s sat on the floor. His half-hearted plea of “I’m right here, you menace, sit down for fucks sake” is summarily ignored.

With practiced dexterity Sheryl stands on Astra’s back, takes a breath, then jumps. She is suspended in midair for a moment, hair billowing up, split cape fanning out, before gravity takes hold of her and she sticks a landing with perfect, gymnastic poise.

Then a hot, velvety tongue is licking her face in greeting.

“Frankie! Ah- haha!” she giggles as she tries to push him back.

Astra flies around behind him and lightly taps his rump with her hoof, tagging him, before gliding away. Without even looking, Baine grabs Frankie by the large red handkerchief around his neck.

“You can’t fly. If you launch yourself off this roof, not only will you lose the game by default because you’ll die, I’ll have to spend 10 minutes getting you back, now sit down, I wanna talk to Sheryl.”

With a disgruntled rumbling whine, the bear of a dog settles back down again, curling his large body around Baine and settling his head on his front paws.

“Take a seat wherever, mate, on the dog if you have to, he doesn’t mind.”

“There, there Frankie. We both know you’ll get Astra later,” Sheryl consoles him. Astra tosses her mane and the fae-bard throws her a smirk, something clearly being said between the two. She gives a nod to Astra and the winged unicorn loops around herself before gliding down to the ground to wait for her mistress.

“Funny that you wanted to speak to me,” the small woman says as she carefully climbs up onto Frankie’s back. Laying down on her stomach she reaches out with her small hands and begins to give him scritches behind the ears as she looks over at Baine. “Because I was looking to speak to you too.”

He raises an eyebrow, grinning.

“You know me, always keen for some hot gossip. Mainly I wanted to know if you were bringing the boss some dire news from the Feywild or summat. And I wanted to hear how the infamous Battle Poet got chucked in the drink in Ulorian’s games,” he teases. “I hear Varis got wise of your spellwork and magicked you into the river.”

Sheryl purses her lips in mock offence. “Ah yes, of course. You heard right. The scary, pale man told me to swim and I couldn’t say no to those pretty green eyes so for a swim I went!” She laughs at herself as a blush touches her cheeks. “I have taken it upon myself to learn a few new tricks so something like that won’t happen again. They came in handy last night,” she adds, the laughter trickling away a little.

“He’s always been a dirty cheat. Admits it himself, even.” He fixes his gaze on the horizon, seemingly deep in thought, and produces a surprisingly accurate impression of the Grandmaster’s voice.

“In a fair fight you’d whip me like a child nine times from ten. That’s why I don’t fight fair.”

He turns his usual grin back at Sheryl, who is giggling. “All’s fair in love and war, innit.”

After a moment, what she said catches up with him and he peers at her curiously.

“But what do you mean, last night? Got into a scrap, did you?”

Sheryl nods, sitting up to continue the scritches down Frankie’s back as she talks.

“Turns out Ulorian has a white-knight who did not like what Varis and I said to the River King. This fanboy had been stalking and preying upon the people of Daring, and Taffeta finally had enough of the City Watch not doing anything.”

She looks at Baine, her expression sympathetic.

“To be fair, they would have probably been hurt or killed if they went after this guy. So a bunch of us searched for him, found him, found out that he was a fey and here to get revenge upon me and Varis, but wasn’t expecting to get hurt. Still,” her brow furrows and she stops the scritches looking out at the dawn streaked sky, “it’s clear he is not going to stop. I was speaking to Varis about what we could do.”

Baine follows her gaze out over the city they both had sworn to protect in their own ways, and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Well,” he says eventually, “there’s always going to be another fight. This one has more politics than I care for – I reckon it won’t be very straightforward. You clever people figure who to dance with, and how and when. I’ll be there.”

He doesn’t look overly concerned at the prospect of warring Fey courts and clashing with their respective royalty; he nods like a man who accepted his fate and way of life a long time ago. Whilst Sheryl does her best to have Baine’s outlook, the crease between her brows doesn’t go away.

“No use in fretting too much, I don’t think, mate. We’ll sort it, and hopefully most of us will still be standing after.”

He turns his gaze away from the rising sun and looks north-west, at the Sunset Spine and beyond, staring a millions miles away in the distance.

“I get that you have more of a stake in this of course, being from there. The things we do for family, eh?”

She studies his face, noting the direction his eyes are looking in. Sheryl gathers her thoughts, petting the fur she made a mess of back into place.

“Family,” she says the word almost like she is singing it. “It’s more than just the blood we share, it’s the threads that connect us. I feel at home in the Summer Court. Whenever I look upon my Queen Mother’s face, I get this feeling, a euphoric fulfilment that goes beyond happiness. It feels right. I have done so much to show my love, proving it through my actions and words. Not that she demanded it but because I have wanted to.”

She follows Baine’s gaze to the horizon.

“But what if there are ties we don’t know about?”

He tears his gaze away from the mountains and looks back at her, narrowing his eyes as he takes in her words.

“Huh. Should have known I wasn’t the only one in the business of digging up old ghosts. You looking for blood ties as well then?”

“Yes…” she says hesitantly, almost afraid to admit it.

He nods.

“I’ll tell you what Varis told me. He’s a very quotable man, you see. ‘It’s good to know where we come from, but we mustn't let ourselves be dragged back there.’ More or less. I may be paraphrasing. Anyway. My point is, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to know where you came from, or what legacy your blood might have in store – just don’t let it consume you. It did my head in for a little bit there, thinking about my mum.”

He waggles an eyebrow at her. “I’m happy to be a cautionary tale.” A warm, gentle smile spreads across his face, at odds with the brutal scars marring it.

“And just so you know, in case no one told you and you need hearin’ it; you’re not betraying Her by looking for them. Yeah? You deserve to know.”

When she smiles, there’s a sheen of tears in her eyes.

“You’re pretty insightful sometimes Baine,” Sheryl says softly. “You know, a while back, when the whole thing with the cloak and the Raven Queen was happening, Varis said I should talk to you about mothers and fate. Sometimes… it feels like no matter what I do I will always be lost. At least you know where you come from. Me…”

She looks at her hands, searching for something in the lines on her palms or the calluses on her finger tips. But she finds nothing new there. They are the same as they have always been. She balls her hands into tight fists before resting them on Frankie’s warm fur.

“Being of two realms is hard sometimes,” she admits, looking at the kind face of her friend.

“No lie there.” He takes her small hand in his large one, squeezing it gently.

“So you go looking. Sounds like a good idea. Any idea where you’ll start?”

“Not really, to be honest. I…” her brow furrows like she is trying to remember something. “I don’t remember anything before the Summer Court. But I have my name: Merla Copperkettle.”

Baine’s eyebrows twitch briefly with surprise, but his smile remains the same.

“I bet that doesn’t help either, having two names an’ all. Wondering who she would have been? Merla.” He frowns, just a little. “You might never find out. Are you prepared for that?”

Her brow furrows a little as she searches within. “I’ve never thought of it that way. I am Merla Copperkettle but I am also Sheryl, the Fae-Touched. But if the Merla that I am, that I have been, is not who I was meant to be…”

She looks into Baine’s warm brown eyes under the curve of his frowning brow and it’s like a dew drop slips from the leaf of her mind to fall down her spine. The worry clears from her brown as she brings her other hand to lay on top of his large, rough hand gently holding hers.

“Love finds a way. That is why I am searching for where I came from and that is why, one way or another, I will find my answers.” The belief in her own words warms her smile and brightens her eyes so they sparkle like the gem in her circlet. “It will help you too, Baine. I am sure of it.”

“We’ll see. Either way, there’s people around here who’ll tell us if we crawled up our own arses looking for answers,” he chuckles.

A door opens and closes somewhere down in the Compound, a voice calls out and another answers. There’s the faint clatter of mugs and plates from the mess hall.

“That’s my cue. Once Grits declares open season on breakfast you’ve gotta move fast.”

“Well I shan’t keep you,” Sheryl says. She swings her leg over and slides down Frankie’s side. “I have some ingredients to procure for Khazifa before I must head to Fort Ettin in a day or so. Actually, I might try asking her.” Sheryl stops, and thinks. “Yes, I could ask her for both of us, see if she’s heard of the Copperkettle clan or the Cinderblades, or if she knows someone who could help us.”

“Sounds good.”

Baine and Frankie both get to their feet to see her off. There’s the sound of majestic wings flapping as Astra flies up to collect Sheryl. Another door opens and closes down in the yard and perplexed voices carry up to them.

“Is that a fucking unicorn?”

“Looks like.”

“I need coffee.”

Baine grins widely.

“New recruits. If they’re impressed by a flying horse they’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Astra is pretty magnificent,” Sheryl says, as she leaps up to her companion’s back. “But if you really want to be blown away, once they’ve been trained up a bit, they could try facing off against us.” She returns Baine’s grin, a playfully mischievous light to her eyes. “Really make them quake in their boots.”

Baine lets out a booming laugh.

“Let me teach them the basics before we move on to utter humiliation.”

The half-orc gives her a lazy, two-fingered salute and begins heading down the steps into the stables.

“See you around, Steel Wind. Don’t do anything stupid without me,” he says as his head disappears from view.

“I’ll do my best.” Sheryl gives a playful wink and Astra shakes her mane before leaping off the roof and taking to the skies, flying east into a rising sun.