Cold Winds
She awoke to wind and to cold. Empty buildings and cracked streets wound out before her. It was all familiar—wasn’t it?—like a memory of home. Dark clouds rolled overhead, with just the barest hint of starlight sometimes peeking through. The girl—she thought she had a name but it eluded her—drifted down the cobblestone streets. She caught no sight of anyone beside herself; she could not decide if that worried her. A leaf blew in the wind, tumbling down beside her, brushing against her leg.
She had something more important to be doing, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Something about that unsettled her. But, for the moment, all she could do was continue forward. She was moving towards something, she thought. At the very least none of the cracked shopfronts currently drew her attention.
Although, there was something about the long gashes carved into the buildings that sparked something within her mind, almost stopping her in her tracks. But still she continued onwards.
Winds continued to buffet her. She thought that she caught sight of someone out of the corner of her eye. But when she turned they had already disappeared into some building or down some alleyway. She paid them no heed.
There was a building to her left. It was like all the other ones— two stories, cracked stones, windows shuttered, the door covered in fading blue paint. There was nothing in particular notable about it. And yet… she felt she ought to go inside.
She passed through the doorway.
The girl opened a door and was greeted by voices, all talking over each other. One of the voices called out a name, “Bernadette!”
And it was her name.
The girl, no—Bernadette, turned to the speaker. Her father looked towards her, bright faced and smiling. In his left hand he held aloft a spoon still dripping with broth. “I’m glad you got home, Bernadette. I almost sent your brother to do and find you. Dinner is just about ready so why don’t you sit your butt down at the table.”
And the girl laughed because food and family were good.
At the table was sat most of the family— her mother and a few siblings. The youngest was dragging her feet, but that was to be expected. They laughed and they talked. Soon her youngest sister made it to the table and her father brought the food.
And Bernadette was happy.
Soon enough the dinner ended, as all things eventually must. There was a knock on the door and Bernadette leaped out of her seat. “That must be Alice!”
Her parents smiled indulgently, only saying “make sure you’re back before dark.”
She scarcely answered as she ran to the door and stepped outside to play with her friend.
She was back on the street again and it was empty. The wind blew across the vacant cobblestones. Bernadette turned back around, staring for a moment at the building behind her. It was cracked and worn like all the others; nothing set it apart. And so she turned again and gazed upon the empty street. There was still something for her to do, even if she couldn’t quite remember what it was. So again she set out, making her way through the street. Idly at first, but then more seriously, Bernadette wondered where she was and why she was there. She could divine no answers.
But she saw movement up ahead and something beat within her chest as she thought that she saw the figure of another human by one of the buildings. It was a shopfront, she thought— perhaps an apothecary. The shopfront was adorned with faded green paint and cracked windows, the remnants of a floral design barely intelligible around the doorframe. There was a glimmer of familiarity there, but nothing firm enough to pull at.
And then there was the person, the first person Bernadette had seen in— she wasn’t quite sure how long. There was a man in disheveled clothing and a worn bowler cap. It must have looked splendid once. It should have looked splendid, Bernadette thought. In any case he was closing his shop, pulling at the chain to make sure it was locked tight.
She approached, and he turned to her. His eyes widened and he stood stock still for the briefest moment. Then he removed his hat and made a deep elegant bow, his nose almost scraping against the cobblestones.
“Lady Bernadette, I thank you.”
Bernadette (or was it lady Bernadette now?) was unsure how to respond. She stared at him for a moment, unblinking, unmoving. Eventually she just nodded and said “You’re welcome?”
It was more a question than a statement but the man did not seem to realize that.
He continued, voice stilted, saying “I— my daughter— we—” He trailed off, struggling to find the correct words. In the end he merely bowed again and whispered his thanks.
And then, from she knew not where, Bernadette found a response. It did not not taste unfamiliar upon her lips. “Think nothing of it. It is, as always, my pleasure to serve. Now, peace, and let nothing trouble you. If you need me, I will find you.”
“Yes, my lady, I— thank you.”
And then he turned and made his way down the street, disappearing into the night. She could have followed. He was the only person she had seen in far too long. But he had his own life to live; people would not be happy to be fettered by her always.
Bernadette wondered where she got a thought like that from. She felt her left hand drift towards her hip.
Instead, she turned, drifting in the other direction, continuing her search for… something. She would know it when she saw it, she told herself. Perhaps that would be true, but it seemed slightly fanciful.
She rounded a corner then, and was granted a view of the town’s massive walls. They may have been somewhat worn and decrepit, stones cracked and battlements crumbling. She could see a tower now abandoned. Almost, she could picture what it would have looked like had there been anyone inside it.
It all looked hollow and empty without any people on them.
Bernadette saw guards on the walls, all covered in gleaming armor. It was as though the stars themselves had descended to earth. She stared at them, eyes wide and gaze locked
Her brother was at her side. He tousled her hair and pushed her forwards, causing her to stumble a few steps, as he said, “I bet you want to be just like them someday, right?”
She turned to him, face all lit up. “I hope so.”
“Well, you’ll make a fine one, someday.”
“Do you think so? Truly?”
“Truly. Y’know Alice’s brother, Simon? He said he’d help me get a job in the guard. Maybe I’ll get him to show you something.”
“Wow. Thank you!”
Her brother’s hand rested upon her shoulder, and Bernadette felt confidence surge within her.
Bernadette touched her hand to her shoulder. She’d thought that there was something there, like the ghost of a breeze had brushed against it. But when she looked, there wasn’t anything. She stood there for a moment, unmoving, not even breathing. The wind stilled. Time and memory each held their breath.
And then she heard shouting.
And they were calling her name.
Quick as the north wind, Bernadette flew down the street towards the sound of the commotion. Much of the street was still shrouded in darkness, only the moon and the stars illuminated her path. But she did not need them, for she seemed to know the streets as well as one knew the sound of their mother’s voice.
Soon, she was there.
And before her was something that loomed against the darkness. There was a glimpse of white teeth, a glow of violet eyes. Something moved against the blackness. There were people who were screaming, calling for someone to come to their aid. They called for her.
Bernadette collapsed to her knees.
“You don’t need to worry, Bernie.”
She looked up to see her brother crouched before her. A somber smile played across his face, as he reached out to brush his hand against her face. Somewhere else, in some other quarter of the city, she heard a roar, a sound like quaking thunder. Bernadette shuddered.
“It’s alright, Bernie,” he said. “The guards are going to take care of the chimeras. They’re being brave, right?”
“Y-yeah.”
“And you want to be just like them, right? You told me you were going to be just like them someday.”
“Y-yes.”
“Well, then you’re going to have to be brave too.”
“I’ll try.”
Her brother’s arms wrapped around her. “I am so proud of you.”
Somewhere, in the distance, she heard the sound of claws scratching against stone and of blades clashing against scales. It was not the first time she had heard such sounds; such conflicts had been growing more common in the last few weeks
She nestled in closer to her brother.
“We should head downstairs for dinner, alright?”
Bernadette nodded, and took her brother’s hand as he stood.
She rose, slowly, almost achingly. But still she rose to her feet. Bernadette was still unsure of herself, so much was still unknown and obscure, but there was a whisper of something in her mind that gave her strength. So she tried to straighten herself and stand fast against the darkness.
But the chimera was moving, disappearing deeper into the alleyway.
Bernadette looked at the surrounding people, some clutching each other in fright. One of them, an elderly woman, took a step forward. She looked familiar, but Bernadette couldn’t place her. The woman spoke.
“It took my grandson. Please, Bernie. I-”
Bernadette’s clothes ruffled in a breeze. Something seemed to pulse within the air. “I will do this for you. Upon my honor.” Again the words tasted familiar upon her lips and she did not know where they had come from. “I will come back with your grandson.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you.” Her father cupped her face in his hands. “This isn;t going to be the end of me.”
“Do you really have to go?”
“I do, Bernie, I’m sorry. But there’s a chimera drawing nearer to this part of the city. Our Lord needs my help; there are people in danger.
“But do you need to go?”
“Yes. But I promise I’ll come back. ‘Till then, your brother will protect you.”
Her brother stood sullenly by the back wall, staring at the sword that he carried.
It was dark and cold and lonely down as Bernadette walked through the street. Large gashes have been torn in the pavements. A street lamp had been uprooted and snapped in two. She did not know how she would fight the chimera. There were many things that she still did not know, and the questions consumed her.
But she kept focused on the pathway ahead. It was not hard to follow the chimera; the destruction it had left was more than sign enough. Bernadette shivered; something was gnawing at her mind. She did not want to go further.
But still she pressed onwards.
—
“Follow me,” said her brother, terror and urgency barely masked. “Everything is going to be fine, just, don’t look back.”
But Bernadette did not heed his warnings, casting a quick glance back.
Here home and her history were burning.
Embers filled the sky like stars.
And she could see the figure of a chimera, like a demon burning in the midst of hellfire.
She was running now, fate soon approaching. Bernadette ran, her breath sharp and ragged in the frozen air, feet pounding against the broken stones. The trail of destruction led her to a square she half-remembered—a fountain stood at the center, dry and cracked, the statue atop it missing its head. Around the square, the buildings leaned inward like mourners at a grave.
And there, crouched at the far end, was the chimera.
It was larger than she’d realized—all scales and sinew. Violet eyes glowed like twin beacons, locking onto her the moment she stumbled into the square. In its clawed arms, clutching and whimpering, was the small figure of a boy — no older than seven.
The chimera let out a low, grating growl that rattled the windows around them.
And Bernadette couldn’t move forwards. There was something in its eyes, in its shining claws, that pierced her soul.
She held her brother as he died, his blood staining her hands. He whispered something, he lips barely moving, but Bernadette couldn’t make out the words. But his hands pushed his sword toward her.
With trembling fingers she took it, feeling its weight in her hands. It was her brother’s sword and how she was the last of her line. For already was her brother’s breath ceasing, his chest no longer rising and falling.
His blood stained the ground almost as heavily as it stained her memory.
She turned and ran down the street, tears staining her face. Bernadette didn’t glance back this time, not wanting to see the carnage behind.
She could hear the chimera’s claws clattering against the stone.
Bernadette staggered forwards.
The chimera stood before her, lips curling revealing so many copper-stained teeth. Ragged wings spread open like the unfurled canvas of night. It gazed towards her, its eyes meeting hers. The chimera leaned forwards.
It knew her.
Cracked cobblestones dug into her broken body. Her sword had tumbled aside, out of her reach. It was the first sword that she had ever held, and already was it discarded.
Bernadette tried to move, tried to drag herself toward the fallen sword. But her arms betrayed her. Every breath caused her agony, and her vision was starting to darken. She could feel the warmth of blood pooling beneath her.
Above her, the chimera prowled closer. Its claws scraped against the ground, like nails dragged along a coffin’s lid. It sniffed the air—her blood, her fear—and a low, rumbling growl bloomed from its throat, heavy enough to shake dust from the broken roofs.
Bernadette’s fingers scraped uselessly at the ground. Her eyes—blurry, stinging—could just barely make out the hilt of the sword, a handspan away. So close. So impossibly far. She reached again, her fingernails breaking against the stones.
The chimera took another step. Its shadow blotted out the broken moonlight and its breath washed over her, hot and fetid.
Bernadette wanted to scream, but her lungs were too weak.
She wanted to call out for her brother.
For her father.
For Alice.
For anyone.
But all that left her lips was a thin, whimpering gasp.
But then her hand clasped around the hilt of the sword. And in her final moments she found a new strength, her last remaining reserves of energy all being expended in a desperate act. Borne by her memories, by those people who had loved her, she held the sword. She would fight
And then the chimera fell upon her..
Pain—white-hot and shattering—flashed through her, and then a great, consuming stillness. Bernadette’s body fell slack against the stone. Her blood ran out in thick, glistening rivulets.
And all went dark and cold.
But she had died loved and defiant.
She planted her feet. Her gaze met the beast as her hand dropped to her side. Bernadette drew her blade, the cold still glinting in the moonlight. It had always been there; she had only needed to call upon it. Bernadette may have died, but she had died standing.
She would not fall a second time.
From her hip she drew a sword. Perhaps it had always been there, or perhaps not. But it was there now, and she knew that she could wield it to fight back against the darkness.
Bernadette moved forward, sword in hand. The chimera snarled, violet eyes burning in the dark. She met its gaze without fear. It lunged. She sidestepped, her blade flashing. A shallow cut along its wing; a shriek of pain. She pressed forward.
The chimera attacked again, but again she evaded it. She tightened her grip on her sword. It was as though her brother was the one holding it.
With a final cry, Bernadette drove her sword into the beast’s heart. It shuddered once, then collapsed.
And a loud silence rang out.
She turned to the boy cowering by the fountain. Slowly, she knelt and held out her hand. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”
He rushed into her arms and passed through them, his body not colliding with hers.
Bernadette gave a sad little smile; this was not the first time that such a thing had happened, she now remembered.
“Let me take you back.”
She awoke to wind and to cold, pale as moonbeams and starlight. She did know where she was.
Bernadette and the boy reached his grandmother. And he embraced her.
The old woman smiled at her “Thank you, Bernie. I knew I could count on you again.”
“Of course you can, Alice.” And the word felt right on her tongue.
“Oh, so you remember again.”
“For the moment, for the moment.”
“Thank you for protecting us for all this time.”
“It is my pleasure and my honor.”
And with her sword she gave a salute.
—
She awoke to wind and to cold.
