《Blood Flows Strong》


 one

    Erast was like a mole on the backside of the Realm, dark and ugly. It was a town that none really cared to travel to even if it was unavoidable. For those that knew about it ¡ª though not many did ¡ª Erast was the last stop to nowhere. Of course, this was one of the more affectionate names the places had procured over the span of its existence. The others were only spoken in fits of passion by those who had somehow escaped it.


    The town leaned like a crooked old man bent over after years of laboring. Shabby buildings with rotted roofs and worn windows smudged with age lined the dirt roads. Lyssa noted with a wrinkled nose that the dirt had been turned into puddles from a heavy rain. The mud made noises under her pony''s hooves. Each step sinking in before popping out with a slosh as she neared the gloomy place.


    "Gods help," she muttered, passing through a pair of manless gates. "I wonder if anyone''s been told we''re in the middle of a war."


    Not that any war would touch them this far south. With the Teeth at their back and the moors wrapped around them, no one was fool enough to waste the effort coming out this way. If they did they would find nothing but grim faced southerns with accents that made them damn near impossible to understand. Erast ¡ª and the other hovels in the south ¡ª was a place that saw few outsiders. Which had no doubt been her daughter''s foolish reason for moving there. Lyssa had been meaning to ask why a village closer to the ocean wasn''t more appealing but she wouldn''t get an answer now.


    Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she pushed her pony onward. The streets were generally empty except for a few muddy patrons who had dared to struggle through the slop. With heavy clothes and heavier gazes, they all paused to watch Lyssa pass before going about whatever business they had somehow found for themselves. She did her best to ignore them as her hand slid up to pull her hood a bit farther down her face. The thick dark fabric of her cloak did well to hide her from their views, though she still held her breath whenever someone took a particularly long look.


    Her destination was buried in the maze of shabby buildings, but it looked to have been taken care of better than the rest of them. She swung herself off her horse, boots sinking into the mud, before taking a good look at it. Temples were often round and decorative so this one would have passed better as a common hall. It stood out against the builds beside it with its high domed roof and paint but not as temples should have. Lyssa was sure the gods wouldn''t accept worship from such an ordinary building. An air of skepticism enveloped her as she looped her reins around the post beside a mucky water trough. But then again, who was she to say what the gods would or wouldn''t like? Legends said they often outdid themselves when it came to surprises, and this place was certainly a shock.


    It wasn''t her place to judge the people of Erast, she was here for a purpose. If the small building fulfilled it then she had no right to complain. The only thing she wished for was making sure her daughter passed into the After the right way and to be sure things were attended to. Once the chores were finished she could be on her way back to the High Cities and have the dreadful place behind her. This was only a short detour to make sure the family she had left wouldn''t be hunted and slaughtered like animals. Her daughter''s husband had always been kind but Lyssa wasn''t sure if the loss of Charis would send him into a spiral. Only time would tell, the problem was in Nirih time could be life or death for their kind.


    For now, her task was in front of her. A knot tightened in her stomach as she paced forward and brushed through the black curtains into the temple. Inside was not as bad but still nothing compared to the marble and colored windows of the High Cities. Large pillars of wood held the arcing roofline where most of the windows had been shuttered in preparation of the coming winter. The ones that stood open allowed a few gray pieces of sunlight into the room though it was mostly lit by the torches that had been hung on the walls. Despite both of these things the room was shadowed, a swirling smoke making it harder to see than usual poor lighting.


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    She grumbled at the dimness, marveling at yet another thing she found off putting about the countryside. Then, despite being inside, she shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around herself. The torches definitely hadn''t been placed for warms as the flames did little against the crisp southern air. She wondered how the residents hadn''t frozen during worship; concluding grimly that perhaps it wasn''t as common a thing in the bitter place. The gods hadn''t given them many favors in the barren landscape, no trees or life outside of the stubborn shrubbery. Few creatures thrive in the cold, especially when the frost took root and turned it into a white wasteland. Nothing like the cold in Parth, where nights were long and would steal your breath. Still not something to worship though. She wouldn''t worship them if she lived in the south either.


    Her eyes moved from the useless fires to the center of the room where white sand blanketed the depth of a shallow pit. Lyssa''s breath caught in her throat for a moment as she glimpsed the covered form in the center of the sand. She wasn''t one to cry, not even when something as sorrowing as losing her only child happened. Years of fighting had taught her long ago that the gods were as cruel as they were kind. They didn''t often give reasons for taking a life before it had its chance to live something meaningful. Her daughter wasn''t young by any means, she had birthed a babe from her loins and survived the harsh reality of having Lyssa as a mother. Still, it was too soon for her soul to be taken to the goddess. If only she could blame it on the war like other mothers did.


    The heavy soles of her boots scuffed against the stone floor as she descended a few of the steps. In a swift motion she dropped so her knees connected with the worn cushion set before the small altar beside the sand. Her head dipped, hands pressing flat against the ground as she bowed low enough for her forehead to brush the dirt. The goddess was a cruel and mysterious woman, but she took care of those that worshiped her righteously. Charis has been one such person and it was this thought that Lyssa found comfort in.


    "May the goddess accept you at her bosom," Lyssa muttered into the cold gray stone. The swirling smoke that cut through the air softened the sound of her voice in the echoing hall. A cloud of it puffed from one of the incense held upright in the stark white stand, twisting up into the soft light before escaping out one of the windows. Her flaxen eyes followed it as she lifted her head in an attempt to avoid staring at the body before her.


    How long had it been since she had seen her daughter?


    Lyssa didn''t know if she wanted the answer to her own question. It had been years, longer than it should have been. She wasn''t sure what kind of mother that made her. It was accepted long ago that her methods of mothering were a lot different than the average house-bound woman in Nirih. Charis had been raised largely on the road, slung onto saddles with her traveling companions or thrown into the back of wagons. Her life had been unstable except for Lyssa''s adamince on her learning how to control the gifts their bloodline carried. Mages had a responsibility to know how to use their magic, it was wasteful not to.


    Still she knew Charis had hated that part of her life. It was the reason why she had longed to settle for ages before she had finally found Leontiy and moved to Erast. For Mages peace was near impossible, but Lyssa didn''t doubt that Charis had found it in her small piece of the world. It wasn''t leisurely, there was no sleeping in castles and riding horses for fun. Yet every letter that Lyssa had gotten from her daughter had been a happy one. It was only in the last mail from Charis that had held any sort of worry, begging Lyssa to come to them. She had said she was dying.


    "Gods help," Lyssa finally forced her eyes to the body. She had been so sure Charis would pull through that she hadn''t come. Not until the messenger had arrived with the grave news. Forcing the budding thoughts from her mind, Lyssa pushed up from the ground and dusted her hand on her trousers. This didn''t do much as she pants were just as dirty.


    A few voices had appeared muffled by the curtain and the heavy air. Still they echoed, though Lyssa couldn''t tell whether it was in the hall or her own head. Perhaps they were people who came to grieve for her daughter. Friends Charis had made in the hovel they called a town. She half hoped they were, that she wouldn''t be left alone in the hall with Charis'' unanswered calls. Instead they passed, the voices going faint before disappearing completely. Leaving Lyssa not only alone but in a painful silence. She could take no more of it.


    "I need a drink." Then, glancing once more at her daughter''s body, she left.

 two

    She wasn''t getting younger, that was for sure.


    After weeks on the road every inch of her body seemed to ache. From her feet to the very depth of her bones. They all complained at her as she settled herself into one of the chairs along the high wooden countertop at the back of the tavern. What seemed to hurt the most though was the cavity of her chest. So much so Lyssa worried if her heart was somehow reaching the end of its life and she''d find herself keeling over in the muck of Erast before she''d done any of the things she needed to do. There was a war raging and she''d be damned if she left the Known without having a say of which way it would go. She pounded a fist on her chest, willing it to get over whatever ailed it.


    "By hells, if you give out on me I''ll be sure to turn the After into a raging inferno until the gods raise me from the dead to finish what I''ve started," She muttered.


    "Dangerous words, you shouldn''t threaten the gods."


    Lyssa glanced upward from the fist clenched against her chest at the lanky fellow who''d appeared behind the bar. He wasn''t young, but far younger than Lyssa herself. An amused look had passed itself across his face. Sending the crook of his nose into a contorted wrinkle and his eyes flashing. Lyssa waved this off as a trick of the light, though her curiosity was now perked.


    "The mutterings of an old crone," she stated. "No one would take them seriously."


    The Lad hummed in thought. "I think the gods themselves heard your warnin''."


    "They''ve ignored all my warnings thus far." She waved over the passing women so she could take bread from her tray. "Would be against their way to start listening now."


    He chuckled, nodding his head a few times as if to say fair enough and went about pouring her a mug of whatever ale they had in the barrels behind him. When he returned to place it before her, she made sure to take a long look at him. Confirming her suspicions almost at once.


    "What brings a mage so far south?"


    When he said it, she glanced around her out of habit. Though he didn''t seem concerned in the least about who might have overheard them. She had had her suspicions upon riding there but she could confirm them true now. How else would the lad be so brazen to speak the word Mage out loud. Even more so, how would he have the courage to be so unapologetically mage himself without hood or dyes. The people of Erast cared no more about what someone was than they did who occupied the throne. There was no reason to after all. The south wasn''t like most parts of Nirih. It was lawless, the rules made by the people, not a King week''s ride away in a castle they''d never see in their lifetimes.


    Indeed, if there was anyone listening to their conversation it wasn''t likely they would hunt her like they would in the High Cities. This was if anyone heard, which seemed just as unlikely since there were a total of five people in the room. The two of them, a woman serving food, and two other men sitting far across the room closest to the fire that roared in the large hearth. Both of whom seemed very unconcerned about anyone else currently in the building.


    She wanted to warn him to be cautious but held her tongue. There was never telling who would walk in his doors. For him, it might have been easier though. He was lucky enough that his traits could be passed off as somewhat normal. His hair was black, though it was the blackest hair Lyssa had ever seen in her days. It was his eyes that''d given it away. A brownish-orange that almost glowed. She imagined that had he been born anywhere closer to the capital it would have been a dangerous life for him. It was hard to hide eyes of unnatural color, Lyssa knew this first hand.


    "I''ve come for my daughter." When she spoke the words, the lad''s face grew regretful. A sorrowful smile filled it. He had known Charis then.


    "I grieve your loss," he said. "Charis spoke of you often."


    She wasn''t sure why, but this did little to comfort her like the lad had intended. Instead it set her chest into another painful spiral. The tightness was so sudden she had to clear her throat several times and take a long sip of ale before she was able to compose any words of her own in return.


    "You''d be able to point me in the direction of Leontiy then?"


    "Aye," his head bobbed a few times. "Him and the children live just out of town in a valley to the east."


    "My thanks." She had no business left there, though she could see the lad had words on the edge of his tongue. She had no intention of indulging his curiosity. Afraid of what else he may ask about her daughter or perhaps even the war. Swallowing the remainder of her ale, she stood. She was halfway to her horse when he appeared at the door of the tavern.


    He passed a sack into her hands when she had sung herself onto her pony and stated, "For the family. Tell them Bence sends his prayers."


    She grunted in response, something she hoped would translate well into whatever the lad wanted to hear. Really though she had no words of her own to speak so it was all she could offer him. Best wishes, thanks, and all the pleasantries people did in sour situations had never been her strength in navigating. She knew their purpose, people wanted to offer comfort without making the families feel worse. She''d just never been good at giving or receiving them, no matter how often she found herself in the situation to do so. Give her war, a sword, or blind hatred instead. She was better equipped to handle that.


    Though the muddy road was the last place she wanted to be again, she found that even that was better than standing still. So she tied the sack to her saddle and left. Bence had likely watched her leave. He seemed like the type of lad that did that, especially when his face cried out with questions. There was more he had wanted to say but he had held himself back. Probably in light of the situation he''d thought it wasn''t best to press. He didn''t know Lyssa after all, all he knew is she was a mother who came to bury her child. Something no one ever wanted to do, especially in a place like Erast.


    Charis hadn''t always lived in Erast. When she had given birth to her daughter, Cecilia, and for the first two years of the child''s life they had lived in Larith. Which was the Kingdom to the north that harbored mages, welcoming them as citizens and hosting the Known''s only magical academies. Outside of Berin''s camps, used to train mages for their sick sport, it was the only kingdom who taught magic openly. Parth restricted magic teaching to the highborns and just about everywhere else mages were hunted and slaughtered. The Known was not a kind place for those with magic.


    It had been pleasant when Charis had lived in Larith though. Since the liberation forces had set up camp along the border close to their home. Lyssa had been able to travel there often in those years when she wasn''t needed on the frontlines. Then without reason Charis and Leontiy had decided to pick up everything to move to Erast. She hadn''t told Lyssa why, even when Lyssa had asked in the letters she''d sent. Lyssa had been so occupied with the war in the years since that it had just become a trip she would take ''one day''. One day when the fighting calmed, one day when she wasn''t needed, one day during the spring or summer. It seemed one day had come.


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    Passing through the gates once more, Lyssa pointed her horse on the road east. There was little to be seen in the direction she faced. Nothing but moorlands as far as her eyes could see. Though they had aged they could still see as far as the horizon. A thin fog had clung to the ground, thick in the gray weather. It gave life to the title that part of the kingdom had claimed thousands of years ago, the graylands. It was home to half a dozen little towns just like Erast and nothing more. Instead it was mostly open rolling hills that rose gently until all at once the base of the Teeth met them and formed the impassable wall of mountains at Nirih''s southernmost border. The lands were too acidic for crops and the weather too cold for most people. It left only a handful of grayborne willing to tough it out.


    Lyssa followed the road for a time, weaving through the crevices of hills beside a small river. Though river was probably not the right word for it even if that is what it had been labeled on her maps. This was more like a small brook. Enough for perhaps a fishing or caravan boat to float down but nothing more. She knew though from the maps that this flowed north to connect with the rivers that eventually slice through the center of the High Cities. It was this river that the Great Passage followed as the largest major roadway in Nirih. Going from its northern coast to the south where it branched into the East and West Passes which made their way to the coastlines where the major trade ports were. This road was discussed a lot in the liberation, because without it the High Cities were cut from a majority of their resources.


    "We''re needed elsewhere," she grumbled to her horse as they took a turn onto a lane that broke from the main road. There had been no sign saying it was the road to Charis'' home, but she knew it was the right one. Even that far away she had felt the lingering magic like it was a strong wind against her face.


    "We go in, convince Leontiy to send Cecilia with us, and then the three of us leave."


    Her horse made no response. It was a horse, after all. She wondered if it was the stress of leaving the frontlines unattended or the death of her daughter that had driven her to conversing with the beast. Either way, she was pleased that speaking to it did calm the rumble that''d formed at the back of her mind. Concluding that perhaps she was a mad old crone like she''d told Bence at the tavern. It wouldn''t be too bad, no one would expect less. Old folks were supposed to be a bit crazy.


    This gave her permission to continue the monologue as they ventured onward. It was beginning to get dark when she finally reached the wood gate that blocked the end of the lane. Now close to Charis'' barrier, she had to take a moment to regain her thoughts. There was nothing visible. At least not by the naked eye. The barrier was still there though, holding strong for the moment even if it was showing signs of fade. Lyssa felt the distinct energy of magic manipulated by her daughter in the air, like a scent that only Charis had. It was hard to form thoughts, let alone words so it was good she had only her horse to talk to. Since the horse really didn''t understand her anyways whether she spoke or not.


    She dismounted to open the wood gate, which obviously did little against the magical one. Her horse shifted from side to side behind her. Animals had no magic of their own but they could sense it in parts. With something this strong it was not surprising the horse was frightened. Still it allowed Lyssa to usher it through the wooden gate, pausing a few feet away at what Lyssa assumed was the start of Charis'' protection. There was no telling what the barrier was since Lyssa could not see the engravings used to cast it. It could be that it would stop her like an invisible wall or perhaps burn to the touch. Most likely Lyssa would pass through without any issue, as Lyssa and Charis'' magic had bonded long ago. It would know she was not the danger that Charis held out.


    This thought did not keep Lyssa from holding her breath as she stepped across the line. Feeling the magic slip over her like a ripple of energy before she found herself on the other side. She then pulled her horse through, though this was a bigger challenge as the animal did not like the static of the barrier. It was in no way painful, but it was uncomfortable. There were several minutes of struggle in which Lyssa lured the horse with every tasty treat in her bag before finally giving up and forcing the beast across the line as well. Had they not been traveling together for the better part of seven years she doubted that she would have won the battle. The horse was stubborn, but they had a mutual trust. He knew she wouldn''t lead them into something that she wasn''t sure they''d get out of.


    The house wasn''t much farther down the path. It was hidden in a small grove of trees that looked largely misplaced in the otherwise barren landscape. They jutted out from a sea of tall grass like giants amongst humans.Around them groves of flowers and various other plants not native to the graylands grew. Charis had had her hand at growing the valley, that was for sure.


    The structure itself was a squat stone building that held the only light in the growing darkness. Everything looked muted in the dusk as the dwindling sun cast a spell through the gloom so against this the house seemed bright. The windows were lit and a healthy ploom of smoke puffed from the chimney that poked from the wooden roof. A soft smell of food drifted across the yard as Lyssa neared. The stable, a shabby building that leaned to the left more than she liked, stood just before the main house. It was noticeably empty though signs of animals were apparent. She took one of the cleaner stalls for her horse and removed the baggage, though she left these inside the stable before making her way toward the house.


    She''d not seen her granddaughter in near to eight years. Leontiy had traveled north to Larith once or twice since their move but even that did not make them familiar. Without Charis, the coming to their home seemed unsure. Would they not want her in their home? She had ignored Charis'' wishes to come when she''d been on her deathbed, after all. Lyssa wondered if the journey had been made in too much hast. She should have delayed by a day or so, allowed a letter or word of her coming to arrive first. There was no saying what she''d meet inside the cottage.


    "You''ve killed men and faced war," Lyssa stated to herself. "Why are you afraid of knocking?"


    She still had to take a deep breath before she could lift her hand to knock loudly on the door. Behind it, she heard the stir of bodies. A few voices sounded along with the deep voice of Leontiy. Perhaps they already had guests and she would be turned away. Then footsteps and the noise of the door unlocking. When it pulled back, Leontiy stood in the frame. His body was guarded, tense. In one hand he held a long wooden pole that he had ready if needed.


    "Planning to beat the Reapers back?" Lyssa glanced at his weapon. Both of them knew full well that the stick would do little against magic. Still the question seemed to be exactly what he needed. It was almost like a barrel of water had been unplugged. A flood of relief was followed by confusion and surprise.


    "By gods, I had feared the barrier had broken at last." Leontiy gave a laugh, dropping the stick beside the door frame. "Was the trip long?"


    "Aye," she nodded.


    "Who is it, da?" a voice came from behind him. A girl''s voice. Cecilia most like. The last time Lyssa had heard the child she had spoke only a handful of words. She longed to push past Leontiy and go to her granddaughter but held herself at bay. The child wouldn''t remember her. A strange woman rushing her would only scare the girl. So she waited as Leontiy stepped aside for Lyssa to enter.


    "Gods, my manners. Come, you''re probably tired and wanting to meet everyone."


    Lyssa wondered if his family had come from Parth with word of Charis'' passing. It was a long trip to take. Longer than her own so perhaps they had gotten letters as well to come when she was sick. What stood beyond was not what Lyssa had expected though. Instead of grim faced Parvians, four pairs of oddly colored eyes blinked back at her.


    "Children," Leontiy closed the door behind them. "This is your grandmother."