Elise drifted in fevered darkness, floating weightless one moment, then flinching back to pain the next, only to slip under again. In one such moment, she became aware of low voices around her. There was the faint crackle of a fire, and the scent of woodsmoke mixed with damp earth. Elise's eyelids fluttered. Everything hurt her abdomen throbbed dully and her throat was parched but she was alive. By all rights, she shouldn't be.
She heard a dry, grumbling voice speak nearby. "...lucky she hasn't bled out, you know. Mortals are fragile. We're hours from the last waypoint and she's still leaking like a sieve." The tone was unmistakably irritated, yet somehow also concerned.
Another voice responded, quiet and steady. "I've done what I can for now. The bleeding has slowed." This voice Elise recognized, even through the haze: the Coinbearer. Its calm timbre stirred memories of that night in her childhood.
Elise forced her eyes open a crack. At first, her vision was a blur of orange firelight and deep blue dusk. She discerned the silhouettes of two figures: one seated against a boulder, and one crouched by the fire feeding it small twigs. The taller figure's face was turned away, but she saw the distinctive outline of a mask catching the fire's glow. The seated figure had no distinct head at all, just a lumpish shape… was that the cloak?
She blinked to clear her sight. Yes, folded on a rock was the Coinbearer's tattered cloak, draped as if resting, its "voice" emanating from somewhere within its rumpled folds. And there was the Coinbearer himself, mask and all, tending a modest campfire.
Elise tried to speak, but only a croak came out. Immediately the Coinbearer's hooded head snapped in her direction. In two strides he was at her side.
She realized she was lying on a makeshift bed of layered cloaks and moss. An empty waterskin and some bloodied bandages lay nearby.
"You're awake," he observed softly, kneeling beside her. The silver mask gave him an impassive look, but his voice held a note of relief.
Elise swallowed, her throat dry as sand. "W-water…" she managed to rasp.
At once, the Coinbearer lifted the waterskin and supported her head with his other hand. "Slowly," he murmured as he guided the spout to her lips.
Cool water trickled into her mouth. She drank in tiny sips, it hurt to swallow, but the water was life itself. Within a few gulps she was coughing and had to stop.
"Easy," the Coinbearer said. He lowered her back down gently. Elise realized she'd never expected Death's emissary to be capable of gentleness at all.
The cloak let out a dramatic sigh from its spot on the rock. "Well, this is cozy. If we're done playing nurse, perhaps we remember that a horde of devils wants us very dead?"
Elise's brow furrowed. She turned her head slightly toward the sound. "Who… what is…?" she whispered, trying to make sense of a talking piece of clothing.
The Coinbearer glanced over his shoulder. "Curb your tongue," he warned the cloak quietly. "She's just awakened."
The garment gave something like a harrumph. "Fine, fine. I'll be the silent sentinel, then. Don't mind me," it muttered, lapsing into grumpy quiet.
Elise wondered if she was delirious. A sentient cloak fussing over her? Demons chasing them? Her memory came in disjointed fragments: the hellhound in the mausoleum… the Coinbearer asking "Heads or talis?"… a blinding pain… and then nothing, until now.
Her hand twitched, moving toward her bandaged abdomen. "My wound…?" she asked in a faint voice.
"Still mending," the Coinbearer answered. "The bleeding has mostly stopped. I cleaned and wrapped it as best I could." He paused, as if unsure how much to say. "You were gravely hurt. If the coin toss had gone as fated, you would have died from that injury last night. But the coin did not give a normal result."
He adjusted the blanket over her as he spoke. "It landed on its edge," he explained quietly. "Balanced. Neither heads nor talis. Such a result has never happened before."
Elise's eyes widened slightly. Balanced on edge, neither outcome. "So… my life and death were undecided," she murmured.
"Correct," the Coinbearer said. The way his masked face hovered over her, backlit by firelight, made him look like some dark guardian. "Which means, according to my mandate, I could neither let you die nor finish the ritual. You were caught in between."
Elise's mouth felt suddenly dry again, but not from thirst. Caught between life and death somehow that felt more unsettling than simply being condemned. She lowered her eyes, taking in this revelation.
"I told you, you're an anomaly," the cloak piped up, apparently unable to contain itself. "He's basically breaking all of Hell's rules just hauling you around."
Elise managed a weak, skeptical smile. "I… didn't ask to be hauled around."
The Coinbearer tilted his head. "Would you rather I left you there for the devils to collect?" he asked, not unkindly.
Memory came flooding back to her: waking in the forest clearing, seeing the Coinbearer, then the sudden appearance of a devilish figure and a fight flashes of fire and darkness. Elise shuddered. "There was a devil… I remember a devil came."
"Yes," the Coinbearer confirmed. "He wanted to claim your soul in lieu of a coin result. I refused. We had to… depart quickly."
Elise realized that "depart quickly" was likely a grave understatement. She glanced around their small camp. They were in a shallow depression on a hillside, sheltered by granite boulders and a canopy of aspen trees. The light was dim and tinged gold, the sun must be setting.
"You defied a devil. For me," she said softly, meeting the eyeholes of his mask.
The Coinbearer shifted ever so slightly, as if uncomfortable under her direct gaze. "I upheld the terms of my duty," he said. "The coin made no decision, so I couldn't let him take you. It's not merely an act of kindness... there's more to it than that."
He sounded almost apologetic. Elise studied him for a long moment. Did this mythic soul-collector feel awkward about being perceived as compassionate? He truly was as mysterious and guarded as legends claimed.
A faint smile touched her lips. "Well, regardless of reasons… thank you." Her voice was still weak, but sincere.
The cloak made a gagging noise that sounded like bleh. "Heartwarming gratitude for the ghoul, none for the cloak that shielded you from a flaming spear. Typical," it muttered under its breath.
Elise couldn't help it, a soft laugh escaped her, turning into a wince at the pain it caused. The Coinbearer shot his cloak a glare (or so Elise assumed, by the way he turned to it sharply). "Hush," he murmured.
The cloak flapped indignantly and then fell quiet as if pouting.
Elise drew a careful breath. Even that small laugh had cost her in soreness. "Where… are we?" she asked.
"Half a day's journey north of where we met the devil," the Coinbearer answered. "We traveled through the night. I made camp here to tend to your wounds and let you rest."
His voice lowered. "I know you have many questions, Elise." The way he said her name made her heart skip, he pronounced it gently, with a hint of familiarity. "But we must keep moving soon. More devils will come, and they will not stop."
Elise's mind snagged on one thing: he knew her name. Perhaps from hearing it when she was delirious? Or had he known all along from that night years ago?
"How do you..." she began, but before she could finish, a distant sound made them all fall silent.
It was a faint, haunting howl, echoing through the valleys of the darkening forest. One lone cry, answered moments later by another, from a different direction. The hair on Elise's arms stood on end.
The Coinbearer was instantly alert. He rose fluidly to his feet, looking out beyond their rocky haven. The cloak flew up from the stone and reattached itself to his shoulders in a heartbeat. "Hellhounds," it whispered tersely. "Scouts."
The howls sounded again, closer this time. Elise's blood turned cold. She remembered all too well the beast she had faced in the mausoleum.
"They must have picked up our scent," the Coinbearer said. His calm voice now carried an edge of urgency. He moved swiftly, kicking dirt over the small fire, extinguishing the flames. The sudden darkness made the emerging moonlight all the more stark.
Elise struggled to push herself up on her elbows. Fear gave her a surge of strength. "I can walk," she insisted preemptively, anticipating that he might try to carry her again.
"You can barely sit," the cloak remarked. "This isn't the time for pride, girl."
The Coinbearer had already scooped up what few supplies they had unpacked. He knelt at Elise's side once more. "I'm sorry," he said softly, and before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms in one smooth motion.
Elise bit back a cry as her abdominal wound flared. Once settled against his chest, however, the pain stabilized to a throb. There was no denying it, she would be slowing them down immensely on foot. Her cheeks burned, though whether from fever or frustration at her own helplessness she wasn't sure.