《Ashtik: The Champion of Black [Progression] [Slow decay]》
Chapter One: Golden Grasses.
There is a painting that hangs in the hall of gods. Within is held the last woman, captured and punished for an eternity over a crime nobody remembers. Her bleeding golden eyes look out in frozen anguish. A masterful stroke holds the agony in her tears, and the death in the roses they water. She holds in her hands a bundle of cloth, though only one remembers why she clings to it so tightly.
Godens and Goddesses pass by the frame all the time and pay as much mind to it as they would a single leaf on a tree or a blade of golden grass in the worlds of wheat below them. Such wasn¡¯t always the case. When the world was young, and the gods were still curious, they would come upon it and admire her broken beauty.
The wise gods would declare her the first human, the primordial creation of the absolute trinity.
The gods of war saw otherwise. They claimed her the first murderer, the harbinger of ends. They believe it was she who created death, and only she who would be denied it for eternity.
The young and revelrous gods saw her as a lech. They knew her to be the first whore and her portrait to be naught but a reminder of the consequences of sacrilegious hedonism.
There was a question asked once, by the Golden goddess. She asked of her father, ¡°Who is she that has been hanged in our conclave all these long eternities?¡± And the forgotten goden answered her. The frame was no longer black steel, but stars and shadow. In a mouthless voice and with noiseless words nobody but his own daughter could ever comprehend, he said; ¡°She was my blood. My sister. She was the first mortal, and the first mother.¡±
Now, the Golden goddess understood in an instant who she gazed upon.
¡°Why was she placed in the painting?¡± She asked of the shadows and stars. The winds rushed and she saw, upon the horizon, the old world of godens and goddesses. She saw the death of their world and the ascension of her kind, but she also saw a beauty with hair of crystal ice as she alone fled to the stars.
¡°She never became as us, as such she was fated to die alone atop the barren rock we called a world.¡± The stars became tears on godly cheeks while some galaxy a lifetime away became his false smile. ¡°The first gods joined our power and gave unto her, a child.¡±
¡°But I was the first child,¡± she of Gold insisted.
¡°You were the first to draw breath. He was the first born.¡±
¡°How could a child of the gods not be carried to term?¡± She demanded. The painting came clearer to her and the bundle bled before her very eyes.
¡°We were arrogant and almost as powerful as we believed ourselves. When we saw her; when I saw her alone on that world, I assumed her solitude to be curable. She sought no cure, no child, and yet when her womb quickened, she suffered the responsibility. She bore the pains alone, while we crafted the skies above her. She slept on beds of rock and ate the sparse fruits left upon the scarred world. Then the day came, and the child did not, and she was so much more alone than she had ever been before.¡± The agony of memory is a terrible thing for an ancient goden. The sapphire sun set in the middle of the day. The moon tore itself in twain and the mountains wept his tears. The rains poured in impossible colours and sparked out with glassy shards of lightning. The clouds hailed embers of emerald and the winds rushed as ruby torrents.
Then all became still, and he was gathered.
¡°What did she do?¡± The perfect daughter asked.
¡°She swore to end everything the gods had ever touched. She swore to destroy my bloodline. She swore to destroy all worlds that we create, she swore to grow even more powerful than I, that she might overthrow me.¡±
¡°And so, you froze her?¡±
¡°And so, I fought her,¡± he admitted. His shame brought stillness to the waves, and silence to all the flames of the sun. ¡°And so, she destroyed the world. She made good on her promise, and we were forced to start again.¡±
¡°You made this world?¡± She guessed.
¡°Your mother made Marash. I swore to have no hand in your world, that my sister might forget it,¡± he corrected.
¡°But...¡± The goddess urged.
¡°But then we made you, and you made all of them; where I failed to make one.¡± The sun flared out and wrapped its arm around her shoulders for a warm embrace. ¡°But by this action, her vow was renewed.¡±
¡°She made an attempt at Marash? But she was mortal, surely she would have aged?¡± Almost a panic had the mother of Marash. Had her father truly hidden such a foe from her?
¡°She would have aged and died an eternity ago,¡± he agreed. ¡°Had she not been placed in that painting.¡±
¡°Then destroy the painting!¡± She demanded, the storm of thunder speaking her words in place of her lips.
¡°The painting cannot be destroyed, nor should you be so quick to violence. My sister will be freed by the dragon when the time is right. There is a plan in place, daughter.¡±
¡°Then what is the plan?¡± She snapped.
¡°Steel will glance, the Champion will reign, the traitor will fall, and the eternals will explain.¡± The words shook the halls and the painting cracked along her lips. The agony turned in an instant to a sadistic grin. She bore it as blatantly as her bloody tears. In her eyes, the Golden Goddess could see the final words spoken by this ancient mortal.
The silent smile said, ¡°I¡¯ve burnt whole worlds for hurting me, why is it you feel so safe?¡±
Then the Goddess awoke from her dreams, and forgot her father and his tales yet again; as she did every morning. As everybody did every morning. Such was his grand blessing, the right to forget; the right to dream.
CHAPTER ONE: GOLDEN GRASSES.
The sapphire sun set over golden grasses. The snowcapped mountains hid the horizon from sparkling little eyes. The day¡¯s final heat warmed her back as she strolled through the nameless forest. Rain carried on the wind, but not a drop had fallen. The sun glinted off the shimmering reeds as she moved along her way. A clearing came up and she finally saw the sky. Perfect red melted into the perfect blue as she followed away from the sunset.
¡°Sister?¡± She called out with a drop of worry. It had been a moment too long of silence. A black leaf landed at her shoulder as she walked along. Only the evergreens kept their coats this deep into autumn, yet she stood surrounded by golden spruces and jet-black oaks. A flurry of purple leaves carried overhead on a quick rush of wind. It was an oddity of the season, but surely not worthy of worry. ¡°Ash!¡± She called out again beyond the treeline, though the wind in the trees was the only response returned.
A songbird made its call from within the sheltered black tree, though a sparrow swept down and saw it off. She looked to the little sparrow, and it seemed to look back at her for a moment too long. It chirped lightly before taking flight towards a small pond that she hadn¡¯t noticed. It was a shallow pool, but quite wide and brimmed with colourful stones. Red reeds lined its surface, and she could even see a couple of small fish within its bounds.
Her shadow grew long as the mountains swallowed the newly set sun. The darkness took the forest in an instant, and the cold of winter¡¯s first reach scratched along her spine. A glint in the water caught her eye as she shivered in her dress. It was blue and purple; then red and gold; then green and white.
It entranced her. It was truly beautiful as it shimmered just an inch beneath the water. She didn¡¯t give a thought to the cold as she took the first wading step into the pond. She got closer to the shimmer, and it seemed to do the same. It grew from a spec to a little ball of light, then it grew larger still. Then it was no longer red, nor was it blue or green; black or white. It was some impossible flavour of light. Some fevered dream of a madman. A colour that couldn¡¯t be, yet so clearly was. The glint wasn¡¯t beneath the water anymore, but above it ¨C above her.
She gawked as this impossible delight sparkled and danced amongst the slowly waking stars.
She awed as the orb grew larger and larger. Apprehension caught her when it grew larger than the stars above, and dread gripped her when it made dwarfs of the twin moons. It was sunrise, and sunset. The orb ¨C or whatever shape it could possibly be described as ¨C sparkled with a thousand colours and lights, none of which she could ever have imagined. It rained cold lava and burnt Icey flames. It was a ball of lightning, then a box of dreams, then a heart of iron and an eye of gold.
Then it grew smaller, much smaller. It coursed through the sky straight towards her; no more sparks, no more light. It wasn¡¯t a shooting golden star; it was an arrow. Black and steel and deadly. The majesty was gone though the intent was newly apparent. Simple and obvious, a shard of oily black steel ripping the sky apart in search of the young girl.
Then it flew through the trunk of a tree ahead of her, and she was being pushed to the ground by warm hands.
¡°Ev!¡± Her sister cried as she dove atop of her. She placed herself between the shard and its target and she would suffer the consequences. It tore into her shoulder with the same force it had torn through the tree with, only, it didn¡¯t go through. It seemed lodged within Ash. It nestled and burrowed but it should have burst through to the other side.
¡°Ash!¡± She screamed. The elder sister, Ashtik, lay limply atop of her. ¡°Please, no no no...¡± She whispered. A prayer came to the deepest pit of her heart. She didn¡¯t say it. It was barely even conscious in her mind, but it grasped her soul.
¡°Please don¡¯t take my sister.¡±
Dirt, damp and cold. A drop of blood warmed her back, and she was almost grateful for it. A cool breeze sheered across her like a blade of ice. The constant sound of: Clip clop, clip clop, clip clop... A horse? It must have been. Then she felt the rolling of wheels over hardened mud. Her hand fell below, and she realised she was lying down. It must have been wood. Damp planks, stained with blood and rain. The cool night air, lit only by the half-moon and its sister, captured her breath as clouds of mist. She drew on what effort she could and turned her head awkwardly to the side.
There was the girl. Steel eyes welled with tears. Beautiful white hair flowed to her hips. Her flawless skin holding the same natural tan of their mother. Evara, her baby sister, her world.
¡°Ev...?¡± Ashtik meekly called. It was all she could manage; something had sapped her strength and her voice. The young girl dove from the carriage into the dirt at Ash¡¯s side. A great splash of hardened mud sullied her pristine dress, but for once she didn¡¯t seem to care.
¡°Don¡¯t move, Ash,¡± her sister ordered, her voice dripping with worry.
¡°What...¡± Ash tried to say. ¡°What happened?¡±
¡°Something struck you...¡± Evara timidly replied.
¡°Something?¡±
¡°I know not what it was. A... starlight wisp? ¡° Evara suggested. Her attention fell from Ash¡¯s gaze and towards her wound. She removed the bandage for a moment and Ash caught a glimpse of the blood-stained cloth that had been used. Evara¡¯s face drained of colour once it was removed, though she didn¡¯t speak.
¡°What is it?¡± Ash asked. Her response was not in words, but action. Her steel eyes erupted into golden flame. Evara¡¯s hands outshone the stars as she focused on Ashtik¡¯s wounds. She seemed to exert a frantic effort into her magics, though relief didn¡¯t find her once she finished. She erupted yet again and placed even greater agony into the wound.
Evara collapsed atop of Ash. It was expected, the common result of her using her power, though what she had been so intent on healing illuded Ash. Though she was fatigued, she felt uninjured. Had the blood not been so obviously pooled around her, she¡¯d have doubted she had so much as a scratch on her body.
Ash gathered herself and sat against the rolling cart, cradling the newly sleeping Evara in her arms.... And then she understood.
It swirled within her. It ebbed and flowed through every vein and artery. It saturated her skin and burned away all impurities. Where blood ought to have gushed, a strange mound of black and purple veins erupted. They spread like an infection, rapidly swarming her skin as though searching for something. Evara tried to clean the wound, though it had no effect. Then it seemed she had attempted to cauterise where the flesh had been sundered. Despite the burns around the purple mound, the severed flesh refused to be re-fused.
The shard had parted the skies, split light into new and impossible colours... and it had torn muscle and bone to shreds. It didn¡¯t hurt, though. It didn¡¯t even bleed anymore. Tentacles and tendrils of purple corruption spread across her like a cancer. From the shard above her heart, it crept along. The furthest of its vile feelers made its way down her belly and across her legs. Another rushed her throat until it found her head, and all stored within it. Her entire body must have been consumed in putrid death before it stopped. Once it¡¯s spread had found every inch of her, it began to consolidate. She saw it cede her legs and felt it loosen around her neck. It drew the corruption from her extremities and pushed deep into her left hand. The purple deepened in her palm to an abyssal black as it seemed to retreat from the rest of her body. Even the shard seemed to drain. Where purple and black tentacled veins had sprawled from the embedded black steel, nothing remained. Not the shard, nor a scar where her flesh had been so violently torn asunder. Perfect smooth skin had been restored, even down to her tan lines and freckles.
¡°How do you feel?¡± Evara sleepily asked, her head still cradled within Ash¡¯s arms. There was no honest answer for the fearful girl, so Ash wiped her little tear away and lied.
¡°I¡¯m well. Don¡¯t worry.¡± She stroked a stray hair from her little sister''s face, and then her heart sank to her belly, and fear gripped her.
She saw her hand, and the deathly mark it bore.
¡°What the fuck?¡± She gasped. She threw her hand as far from her face as it would go. She slid further from it, as though it weren¡¯t attached to her. The panic denied her breath as her eyes affixed to the swirling black blaze that lay just beneath the surface of her skin. The deeper she gazed, the deeper the mark seemed to be. At a glance, it seemed to rest atop of the skin like a tattoo; lock your gaze to it and you might find a well of abyss deeper than her hand could physically allow.
¡°What is that?¡± She cried. Ash clawed at the blackened skin as if to dig the mark out. She¡¯d have torn the flesh away with a blade, if she¡¯d had one to hand.
¡°Calm yourself,¡± Evara said, though her tone suggested she was just as panicked. ¡°We¡¯re nearly home. The Elder will know what to do.¡±
The words froze in her like tears in a snowstorm. She focused on them; on the little voice that spoke them. It gave her a measure of strength, though it didn¡¯t break her abominable leer. Her gaze never quivered from her hand. It remained outstretched as she stood, and as Evara guided her along the forest floor.
It was full dark when they returned, past the first hour of the new day. All that time, Ash had refused to allow the mark from her sight. If she so much as blinked too hard, the black would consume even more of her form; or so she seemed to believe. They skulked through the desolate streets as the carriage that had carried them moved along its merry way.
¡°Elder!¡± Evara called as she carried what little of Ashtik¡¯s weight she could. She banged against a little oak door set into a grassy hillock. She banged so heavily that the hanging torch above them rattled and threatened to bound atop of them. It wasn¡¯t long before a croaky old voice rang from within. The Elder marched audibly from within the home and called out ¨C in a voice thick with annoyance, ¡°Evara! I swear by the gods, if you¡¯ve started another fire...¡± He threw the door open and met the two by candlelight. ¡°Sai-Weleg?¡± He gasped as his eyes fell upon the barely able to stand woman.
¡°Please, Elder, she¡¯s hurt,¡± Evara begged.
¡°Of course, come quickly.¡± He stepped aside and allowed the two to limp into his home.
He was quick to work. He cut away her leather padded shirt to expose where Evara reported the shard to have been embedded.
¡°Is this a joke?¡± He questioned when presented with the unblemished skin of Ash¡¯s shoulder.
¡°No! Please, something struck her. It must be magical!¡± Evara insisted. Tears welled in her steel eyes and ran, without restraint, down her rosy little face.
¡°Child, I can¡¯t treat what isn¡¯t there,¡± the Elder insisted. Ash lay back on his bed before raising her hand to his eyeline.
¡°Can you treat that?¡± She sighed. His eyes widened, what could be horror ¨C or fascination ¨C consumed him.
¡°Oh, child... In this moment, no magic nor power beyond it would suffice to prevent what is to happen next ¨C and all that will come because of it,¡± the Elder whispered. He took her marked hand into his own and squeezed it tight. ¡°Don¡¯t fear this, Sai-Weleg. It is not your enemy.¡±
¡°Then what is it?¡± Ash asked. He released her hand and she stroked the mark lightly. That he held it so tightly with no aversion gave her a level of comfort. It made her feel a little less fateful.
¡°It¡¯s the mark of a Champion,¡± he answered.
¡°But... That¡¯s not possible?¡± Evara protested. ¡°The Champions council is complete. There are no more Champions.¡±
¡°And yet... Here one lies.¡±
¡°Hang on!¡± Ash protested. ¡°What the hells is a Champion?¡± She asked. The Elder chuckled at the question.
¡°Do you know nothing beyond the Veil?¡± He disapprovingly asked.
¡°Why should I? I¡¯m a huntress, not an adventurer,¡± Ash huffed. His eyes danced between Ash and Evara. He scanned over the ornately dressed younger. Her perfect white riding skirt, stained with the blood of the day. Her delicate ¨C though cheaply made ¨C jewellery. Her scholar¡¯s squint.
Then his gaze fell to Ashtik, the elder. Her red leather armour that failed to cover her well-toned belly. Her empty sheathes and numerous practical pouches. The sides of her head, neatly shaven. Red chains tattooed around her arms and across her shoulders. Names written in occasional links. A short woman, slim and athletic as a hunter ought to be. Her deep purple eyes looked almost black under the candlelight, and her nose looked much more crooked after each breakage. A thin streak of red across the middle of her lips. Leaves on a vine, tattooed and hidden beneath the braids over her neck.
The two sisters couldn¡¯t be more unalike.
¡°There is more to this world than the forest, Ashtik. I think this is something you are soon to learn,¡± the Elder laughed. ¡°Evara... Would you be so kind as to explain the Champions to your sister?¡±
¡°Of course,¡± Evara smiled. The child never missed an opportunity to regurgitate what she had read in one of the Elder¡¯s many scrolls.
¡°The Champions are chosen ones, picked out by the gods as paragons of their domains. Each Champion is heir to a realm and a ¡®god weapon¡¯. There¡¯s one champion for each god. The Champion¡¯s power depends on the significance of the patron god. For instance; Rein Khan, the Champion of the crimson goden. He has the Storm cane which can control the weather. Then there¡¯s Debrov Marton, the Champion of the orange goddess. She can make trees sprout fruit,¡± Evara explained with a face-cracking grin. ¡°Only... All the Champions have been chosen. Unless a new god has popped up?¡±
¡°So... I¡¯m one of these Champions?¡± Ashtik scoffed.
¡°I hope not,¡± the Elder whispered. He strolled from her bedside to a great diamond box filled with scrolls. He dug around for a moment before finally coming upon a musky old letter, sealed in broken golden wax.
¡°You don¡¯t want me to be a champion?¡± Ash questioned.
¡°It would mean a great many things are coming.¡± He opened the letter and read through it. ¡°Great things; terrible, but great. Rest now and come the morrow, return to the forest. I believe the sparrows will guide you.¡±
¡°Sparrows? Guide me where?¡± Ash questioned.
¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly know, but I hope I am wrong. Return home now goodlys,¡± he said in a kind but wearied tone.
The night was frantic and restless, though she slept the whole way through. She dreamt of a great void. White and nothing spanned all around her. She woke here and stood, though her feet found no purchase. There lacked an up, or a forward, but there was light and space.
¡°Hello?¡± She called to the nothing that surrounded her. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡±
She turned in place, though it made no difference in this directionless space. Dread gripped her again and her voice caught in her throat.
¡°Who are you?¡± She asked the nothingness before her.
¡°It''s not nothingness. Where are you?¡± She called. Again, she received no reply.
¡°Please, I don¡¯t know where I am? Who are you?¡± She asked. ¡°Stop saying what I¡¯m doing! Who are you?¡± Ashtik ordered. Her breathless words echoed eternally in the nothingless void.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.¡°How do you know my name? Where are we? Who are you?¡± She asked again.
It took her a while to comprehend, though she could never truly do so. The easy truth was, she was simply dreaming.
¡°This isn¡¯t a dream,¡± she protested. ¡°I can feel... It¡¯s too real. Please just answer me!¡± She cried.
She rose with the sun and a sweaty jolt. Her heart raced and her mind fought to overtake. The dream was so vivid, but the memory of it was slipping, even now. She remembered a void, and the fear, then just the void.
¡°You¡¯re awake?¡± Evara dreamily grumbled. The girl had fallen asleep at her bedside. Her hair had sprawled out into a crazed bundle of knotted and matted tangles.
¡°Aye, but it¡¯s still early. Go back to sleep,¡± Ash said. She stroked a gentle hand over her sister¡¯s head and patted down a few exceptionally wild hairs.
¡°Okay...¡± Evara mumbled as sleep took her again. Ash drew from her bed and gathered some clothes. Her shoulder yet ached from the night''s ordeal, so she elected to dress in a rough cotton shirt and pants in place of her usual armour. Something of the night played on her mind as she bound her braids, though she couldn¡¯t remember what.
Her hand still caused her discomfort. A simple glance and her heart would drop at the impossible depth of it. She dug a winter glove from the bottom of her draw, cut off the fingers and sealed her fears beneath it.
¡°Long night, Snowy?¡± Tilak asked in a hush. He poked his head through the bedroom door, his grey eyes looked around her room and fell upon the still sleeping young.
¡°Very,¡± Ash whispered back. She left the room at his side and slid the door shut behind her.
¡°Well... Breakfast is ready. Shall we rouse Ev?¡± Tilak smiled. A tuft of deep brown hair fell across his sun kissed old skin. He had grown skinny in his twilight; it made him look much older, though he had recently begun shaving his beard away in some feeble attempt to regain his youth. He was a foot taller than her but stood as though he was half her size. The proud hunter he had once been existed now only in the glint of his eye.
¡°No, let her sleep.¡± She dragged him into a hug. She almost dangled from him as her arms clung around his neck. He laughed with what little breath he could manage.
¡°Okay? The hug is nice?¡± He chuckled into her shoulder. ¡°Is everything alright, Snowy?¡±
She parted the hug and matched his chuckle. ¡°Yeah, sorry. It was a very long night.¡±
They crossed the tiny oak corridor and entered the largest room of the house, the kitchen. Miel stood over a firepit while a kettle boiled over it. ¡°Goodmorrow, Mother,¡± Ash said with a sliver of ice.
¡°Hello, Ashtik,¡± Miel answered. The older woman pointed a wooden ladle towards the table at the end of the room and Ash took the seat facing her.
¡°So, what were you two up to last night?¡± Tilak asked. He placed an empty plate in the setting before her before taking a seat at the head of the table.
¡°I¡¯m sure the Elder will let you know soon enough,¡± Ash grunted.
¡°The Elder?¡± Miel shrieked. ¡°You disturbed the Elder? Ashtik you¡¯re nineteen; you cannot act the child for the rest of your life!¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice!¡± Ash protested.
¡°I am sure you didn¡¯t,¡± Miel doubted. ¡°Gods willing, I hope you didn¡¯t drag your sister into whatever mess you¡¯ve made this time!¡± Her mother dragged the kettle from the flame and slammed it against the stone base at the centre of the wooden table. She dove the ladle in and poured out a violent portion for Ash and Tilak. Her jet-black hair ¨C frazzled from the kettle¡¯s heat ¨C nearly whipped Ash¡¯s face as the older woman spun on her heel.
¡°Enough, wife,¡± Tilak pled. ¡°Ash will visit the Elder and apologise later. For now, let''s just eat.¡±
¡°Apologise?¡± Ash nearly shouted. She rose from the table and stormed to the threshold.
¡°Sit down!¡± Miel called.
¡°You want me to apologise? For what? You don¡¯t even know what happened.¡±
¡°Then tell us,¡± Tilak calmly said.
She tore the glove from her hand and presented them with... Tan skin and a broken nail. The mark was gone, the soul wrenching abyss had been left to their imagination. She stood there with her arm outstretched, though nothing to show for it.
¡°Snowy, talk to me,¡± Tilak said. He rose from the table and took her shaking hand, though he couldn¡¯t peel her eyes from it. ¡°What happened?¡±
¡°I-¡± She stammered. ¡°I... Don¡¯t know.¡± Ash pulled her hand back from her father and toed the threshold with her back turned. She swallowed a breath and shot her father an unsettled glance before departing.
Ash rolled the circular oak door shut and slid down the heavy iron bolt behind her before strolling along the dirty and cobbled pathway through the village. The hour was yet early, and the tiny village had yet to rouse. Tilak¡¯s home was nestled beneath its own hillock at the far border of the clearing; the privilege of a master hunter. It used to be his sole duty to bring home meat for the clearing, though he had abdicated the honour once Ash turned seventeen. His ever-worsening health, matched against her remarkable aptitude for the trade, forced him into a life of shamefully gentle living. He still joined her at times. Though he was often a burden, he was one she always bore gladly.
She arrived at the village walls. Great steaks of oak, sharpened at the top and with iron barbs protruding along the lengths. The walls had been unchanged ¨C and unchallenged ¨C since before Ash was born, maybe even before the Elder had been.
¡°Sai Weleg?¡± Carolet, the lone guardsman called from atop the wall.
¡°Morrow, Caro,¡± she replied. Ash moved quickly towards him, gathering enough speed to jump and clamber up the oak walls. She came just short of reaching the top, but the guardsman was ready with his halberd to drag her up. She gripped the ironwood shaft and pulled herself over with a quiet effort.
¡°Strange apparel today, Sai-Weleg?¡± Carolet pointed out as he helped her to her feet.
¡°I woke up too sore for armour,¡± she laughed as she stretched out her shoulder.
¡°But not too sore to climb a three-metre steak?¡± He laughed. The middle-aged man straightened out over her; his long grey beard still bore the crumbs of his morning''s meal. He wore a brigandine cloak, custom made by a master armourer during his youthful years as a free rider. The decades since its creation hadn¡¯t been kind, despite his fervent restorations and repairs.
¡°It''s strange. The... Pain, it disappeared in an instant. It seems almost a dream now,¡± Ash quietly admitted.
¡°So, you are well enough for a lesson today?¡± He smirked.
¡°I wish,¡± Ash laughed. ¡°I think the Elder and I will be busy. Next time?¡±
¡°Fine,¡± the old warrior bowed. ¡°But it¡¯ll be short-sword and shield, not spears.¡±
Ash sighed at the thought as she ran a finger over her palm, where his dulled blade had managed to cut her last time.
¡°I¡¯m so much better with a spear, though,¡± she complained.
¡°Aye, and so you must learn with a blade,¡± he said with very little pity.
¡°Why? I can¡¯t be great at everything. Surely I can just focus on what I''m good at?¡± Ash protested.
Carolet rested a leather gloved hand on her shoulder and said with a warm smile, ¡°You run well, does that mean you never needed to learn to walk? The blade will teach you good fundamentals, and it will help you better understand your foe and his decisions in battle.¡±
¡°My enemies are boars and deer, old man. All I need to understand is how to bait them and how to skin them,¡± she laughed.
¡°You have no ambition beyond the hunt? You do not wish to join your brother?¡±
¡°Join him? Where, some bloodpit in Tevra? I¡¯m a huntress. I enjoy being a huntress,¡± she sneered. "Ambition is for young corpses. He can go and die in somebody else¡¯s wars; I¡¯ll live happily among the animals.¡±
¡°A waste,¡± he sighed. ¡°But one of your choosing.¡±
They strolled along the alure for a while with little in the way of conversation. They made for the centre of the village, where the hearthhome lay. It was not the shortest path, but Ash enjoyed walking it with Carolet. He reminded her of how Tilak had been some years ago, calm and confident; capable and kind. She had spent too much of her life alone amongst the trees to make easy conversations, and most of the villagers tended to think lesser of her for it, but Caro never seemed to mind. He seemed to enjoy her quiet company as much as she did, and she was always glad to try and follow his conversation when he offered it.
She split from the parapet as a tradeswoman offered Carolet her greetings. The older woman dragged the guardsman into her habitual morning''s conversation, and Ash gracelessly dodged away from her without so much as a farewell to Carolet.
The first stirrings of the day came. Goodwives spread seed for the communal chickens while their husbands made attempts at petty maintenance around the homes. The smith¡¯s sons gathered sacks of peat while the miller¡¯s daughter made eyes at the eldest of the bunch. Vamet, the curio trader from Oaran had set up his stall the day prior and would remain for the fortnight. Evara always loved the strange man¡¯s visits, simply because he tended to bring along some silly little scroll for her to trade for. The last time he came, Ash had traded an entire bear pelt for the ¡°Pontifications on the beastsmen of Telek Aob.¡± The scroll unfolded came to be twice her height, though it spoke only of strange men on the opposite side of the continent.
She made her way to Vamet, and poked over his storefront while he unboxed some strange, assorted spices.
¡°Glad Morrow, Ashtik Set-Weleg," the little man said. He bounced to the wooden stall he had built in the middle of the town square. The overwhelming fragrance of whatever perfume he had bathed himself in managed to drown out the array of spices and goods that lay between them. His strange yellow and red tunic sagged over his undersized body, giving him the look of a much fatter man. His short, stubby nose and disproportionately thick neck made him seem closer to a poorly bred nobleman''s dog than a world wizened trader.
¡°It¡¯s Sai-Weleg, Ser Vamet. Set-Weleg means a ¡®tree that hunts,¡¯¡± Ash mindlessly corrected as she perused the wares with a focused interest. ¡°But I thank you for remembering me.¡±
¡°I could never forget thee, Ashtik. The white haired seventeen-year-old who felled a greatbear alone!¡± He said with an exaggerated curtsey. ¡°Might I ask then, what is it that Sai-Weleg means in thine tongue?¡±
¡°Sai means daughter, Weleg means hunt,¡± she simply replied.
¡°So, thee and thine sister are named Sai-Weleg for thine hunter father?¡± The energetic man intuited.
¡°No. My sister doesn¡¯t have a name yet; she¡¯s just Evara. And I¡¯m not named for my father, I received the name after I completed my huntress rites. Every vocation has their own rites in our culture,¡± Ash half mindedly explained, her interest more so focused on a strange crystal ball resting within an ox skull.
¡°How interesting; so, what would I, as a travelling merchant of mythical goods, be named?¡± He politely asked, though he slapped her hand away from rolling the crystal ball across the stall table.
¡°Either Jai-cohge for a merchant or Jai-Tave for traveller,¡± she said.
¡°Then I greet thee as Vamet of Behmet, Jai-cohge, traveller of the Temperate expanse, curio master and personal antiquarian to thy great Ashtik Whitehair, Sai-Weleg and sister to Evara the learned.¡± She humoured his performance with a slight bow, though was glad to hear his voice quieten as he continued.
¡°So... Are you here to pre-hold something for young Evara?¡± He said, no longer the performer but entirely the salesman.
¡°It depends on what you have?¡± Ash cooly said.
¡°A great deal...¡± He seemed to consider. ¡°Though for such a valued customer, I may have something rather more interesting...¡± He slowly said. He bristled at his non-existent moustache before diving below his stall and routing around for a while too long.
¡°Just anything written will do,¡± Ash finally said when she realised how long he had taken.
¡°¡¯Just anything¡¯ may do for these common rabble, but for a refined lady ¨C such as your young sister ¨C only the best will do!¡± He said through the stall. ¡°Huzzah!¡± He called and bounced to his feet. The effort of the movement dislodged his blue hairpiece and left his bald head exposed. He noticed quickly, but didn¡¯t seem even a little embarrassed, instead laughing and throwing the false hair aside. He produced a tome, small and leather bound with a strange device attached to the side.
¡°A tome?¡± Ash questioned. He didn¡¯t let her touch it but presented it before her. ¡°What is it about?¡±
¡°It is about whatever thee wishes,¡± he whimsically said.
¡°It is enchanted?¡± She asked.
¡°Not in the way thee would think,¡± he cautiously answered. Vamet peeled the cover open and presented the first page; a sheet of pale-yellow parchment bound to a hundred others. It held no text nor any depictions.
¡°It¡¯s empty?¡± Ash noted.
¡°It is called a journal. It''s all the rage with teenage girls in Xio Vien. This device is called a scrawler.¡± He removed a metal shaft from the spine of the journal. ¡°It was enchanted in the forgelands to mark upon parchment eternally.¡±
¡°What would she write in it?¡± Ash questioned.
¡°Whatever the young lady likes. A tale of romance? The acts of her own life, or mayhaps a guide on the huntress arts?¡± He suggested.
She considered for a short while, though mostly as a performance. She knew Evara would love the tome and that she needed to get it for her, but she didn¡¯t want Vamet to think of her as too enthused and overcharge her.
¡°I guess I can take it,¡± Ash calmly said while toying with a folding knife lay on the table.
¡°Ah, a wise and brilliant mind makes a wise and brilliant decision,¡± Vamet flattered.
¡°What do you want for it?¡±
¡°A... Small boon, of course,¡± He said with a wicked grin.
¡°I don¡¯t think I have any boons; I¡¯ve got skins, pelts and meat though.¡±
¡°No, fair one. A favour,¡± he corrected.
¡°And the favour is?¡± She asked, feigning annoyance.
¡°You see, while I was enroute here, a group of... Scoundrels, descended upon me. I was forced to leave a measure of my stock in the woods. I would ask that you recover it and in exchange I will give you the journal and anything you wish from what you recover,¡± he explained.
She didn¡¯t entertain the thought for long before flatly saying, ¡°No.¡±
¡°No?¡± Vamet gasped.
¡°The Elder can tell the baron if there are bandits in the woods, but I won¡¯t go off and fight them. I¡¯m sorry,¡± she heartily said.
¡°I understand,¡± Vamet bowed. ¡°But this is an expensive curio from across the seas. I cannot part with it for pelts and meat. I may have other items for young Evara in my case. Return later and I will see,¡± he said firmly but not unkindly. She bowed and made on her way.
¡°Sai-Weleg!¡± The Elder called from across the town square.
¡°Elder,¡± Ash bowed. He looked tired in the daylight, as though he hadn¡¯t slept a wink since they last met. It seemed the night had added a couple dozen wrinkles to his avaricious collection. ¡°I was just coming to find you,¡± Ashtik said in a respectful tone. The Elder wasted no time and grabbed her hand for inspection.
¡°The mark?¡± The Elder mumbled. He ran a finger across her palm, his paper-thin skin tracing a line along the missing mark.
¡°It was there when I awoke and gone not an hour later,¡± she explained. He looked her in the eyes before beckoning to her shoulder.
¡°May I?¡± He asked. She nodded and slid the cotton shirt down her shoulder, just high enough that it wasn¡¯t indecent. The elder pressed his palm against her shoulder; it made her wince in pain, though it was her hand that flinched, not her shoulder.
¡°I can feel the shard now,¡± He said. ¡°It is embedded deep within your chest. It is a wonder you are alive. Its proximity to your heart and lungs is worrying, but if it has caused no issues yet, I see no reason it should start any time soon.¡±
¡°But what happened to the mark?¡± Ash asked as she pulled her shirt back up.
¡°I do not know. What happened when it disappeared?¡± He questioned.
¡°Nothing... I didn¡¯t even notice.¡±
¡°What were you doing at the time?¡±
¡°I was... Arguing with my parents,¡± She admitted with a hint of embarrassment.
¡°You were angered?¡± He guessed.
¡°I... Yes.¡±
¡°Mayhaps the mark reacts poorly to anger?¡± He suggested. ¡°Champions are paragons of traits; their marks often rebel against the champion if they oppose those traits.¡±
¡°So I''m the Champion of mild temperament?¡± Ash sneered. ¡°The gods do have a sense of humour.¡±
¡°The gods would not have chosen you for your temperament,¡± he immediately shut down.
He fell silent for a short while. She felt his gaze more heavily than the quickening breeze. After a moment of silent contemplation, his eyes darted high and a smile found him.
¡°I believe it is time for answers,¡± he said, his eyes fixed well above her. She turned to find what he looked at so gladly and found a simple smoky sparrow circling in the skys above her. ¡°Follow the sparrow, Ash,¡± he said, his tone having grown more dire in the instant since she turned her back to him.
She followed north, then east, and then southwest. She circled a massive iron wood as wide as her home. It rushed across a stream, and over a hill and past a field of red reeds. The little songbird seemed to have no interest in being followed and made every attempt to lose her as it flew. Nearly two decades of hunting experience was all that kept her close behind it. She dove over ditches and sprung from treetops. She dashed past deer and elk by the score and even passed over a wolf as it stalked prey of its own. It was nearly a two-hour chase, in every direction but straight, before the sparrow came to rest among its fellows. Fifty pure black sparrows and as many corvids lay in a small clearing in the woods.
Ash managed to bear herself east of the village, though there was no saying how far she had gone. She timidly approached the newly bold sparrow as it sat, unbothered by her, amongst its host. She crept, near soundlessly, towards the murder and spotted ¨C at their centre ¨C what must have drawn them. There sat an obelisk of oily black steel. She was too far to touch it but could see the sunlight reflecting iridescently from the slick outer layer. It was small and angular; it could have been a sculpture or a natural formation. The base stuck out like a black marble pillar, but it was of a different material from the pedestalled item above it. Light didn¡¯t bound from it, instead being sucked in and trapped within. It rose less than a foot up though it could have been set deep within the grass beneath it. The ¡®item¡¯ above was shifting and pulsing. Half-way between a ball of fungi reaching and clawing over an old corpse, and a barbed wire box keeping dark treasures concealed. It melded between an arrow tip and a flower; then a sparrow and a spider. It had the birds entranced, though Ash could barely stand to look at it.
¡°Ash?¡± A little voice called from the treeline. She turned to face it and was met with a pure white sparrow fluttering along a gentle breeze. It circled the murder and host for a moment before landing at their centre. It pecked mindlessly at the obelisk which seemed to warp itself to avoid the little songbird.
¡°Ash?¡± The little voice whispered this time, though it still came from behind her. She twisted in place and met her steel gaze. Pure white hair flowed over an elegant red and white dress, unmarred by dirt or forestry.
¡°Ev?¡± Ash gasped. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±
Evara¡¯s eyes drifted from her sister towards the gathering of songbirds behind her, and the cosmic aberration at their centre.
¡°I... Followed the sparrow; like the Elder said,¡± she said through dreamy breaths.
¡°How did you manage to keep up? I near on lost it a dozen times,¡± Ash asked. She ran a hand over her sister¡¯s head, checking for scuffs or scratches. She found none.
¡°It guided me, it was no more than a couple of paces ahead of me the whole way,¡± Evara answered. She drifted, almost mindlessly, past Ash and towards the obelisk. ¡°What is that?¡± She asked.
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ash admitted. She stepped ahead of Evara as they moved closer. She bound like a spring with each step, ready to pounce should the need arise.
¡°Agh!¡± Ash screamed collapsing heavily onto her knee as she clutched her left hand. The sparrows took the sound as their permission to break away. A cloud of fluttering wings swarmed in all directions as Ash keeled over.
¡°Ash?¡± Evara called through the deafening torrent of fluttering wings. She dropped to a knee beside her elder sister and placed a healing hand on her shoulder.
¡°No!¡± Ash shouted, springing her right arm out to stop her sister from exerting her magics on her.
¡°What¡¯s happening, sister?¡± Evara begged. The question was pointless, though. They could both see what pained her.
The mark grew and consumed. It pulsed across her hand and seemed to reach out for the oily obelisk. She couldn¡¯t resist the pull. Her hand flung forth and the black mound dashed towards her. It tore through the air and left in its wake the sensation of a lightning strike.
She gripped it hard, and it seemed to turn to clay in her hand. She felt it wrap around her and seep within her. She felt it change her. She felt the power, the fate and the design.
She felt dangerous.
Ashtik battled the black with a blood curdling scream. She rose from her knees and clutched her hand before her. This thing within her seemed to hate her. It wanted to change her, make her its Champion. She wouldn¡¯t let it. Her hand clenched harder than she knew it could. Blood seeped from her nose as the effort of resistance burst blood vessels within her. Bruising spread like spilt ink on parchment across her reddening skin. Veins popped and burst around her and drool spilt from her lips. The screams lost their voice and turned simply to breathless wind. Her eyes bulged red. Blood seeped between her teeth, then something beyond blood. Something black and something purple. A radiance. An energy. It took the space around her and gouged out the dirt beneath her.
She threw her hand high. She pointed it at the gods, at whichever gods had given it to her. She showed them the mark that she would conquer. She mocked their attempts, and their given pain.
A final cry slipped her and for the final time, she balled her fist and threw it to the dirt beneath her. She pounded down, over and over, until she beat the continent into submission. Until the pain in her hand subsided and submitted. Until the mark was not the gods, but hers.
Ashtik grew feint, but she refused to submit; to sleep. She found her feet again and tried to stand on unsteady legs. She wobbled for a moment as her head hanged low. Her eyes were too blurred by blood to see what remained of the mark, but she knew within what she had done. She had beaten it. She had embraced it.
A voice carried on the wind, but it was muffled and mumbled. It was nothing compared to the rustling of the trees and the chirping of the songbirds. One had remained from the murder. The pure white sparrow that had so gently guided Evara to this spot. Why had it done so? Why had it remained? Did it want Evara to experience that same pain?
Her will was strong, but her body wasn¡¯t. She could no longer stand on malice and spite, so her legs gave out beneath her. The voice carried again, like the pitter patter of rain on the hillock she lived beneath. Calming and warm, though in the background until she slept, and then it was all she could hear.
¡°Talk to me. Are you okay?¡± The gentle rains begged through the hailstorm that had begun in her ears. Her eyes returned to her, though her sight was dim. She brought her hand high and splayed out her fingers. She didn¡¯t bother to wipe the blood from her eyes or lips.
¡°Oh, Evara,¡± she darkly whispered. A Black steel gauntlet encased her marked hand and a grim smile wrapped around her blooded lips. She straightened her back and lavished her eyes on her perfect little sister as the gauntlet morphed and formed around her. ¡°I have never been better.¡±
Chapter Two: Sapphire Sunrise.
There was peace in the trees; quiet in grasses and comfort in the rain. Ashtik sat alone in the woods, her legs crossed and her eyes shut. She focused on her breath, and the breeze it created. She imagined it catching a leaf as it fell. She imagined the journey a single breath would take around the forest. How it would wrap around the trees and rustle each individual blade of grass.
She wrapped her hand around the leather-bound shaft of her iron wood spear. Instinct came before senses. She felt it before she heard it. It trod too heavily to be a deer, but too randomly to be a wolf. She did not open her eyes, nor did she shift at all, as it approached.
It wasn¡¯t afraid of her. It seemed curious. It sniffed at her neck but didn¡¯t nip. She could smell it now. The rain had dampened its fur. It was prey to other animals and kept its scent subtle. She didn¡¯t keep its interest for long. It sniffed and snorted before walking past.
She ripped her spear through the air and found its jugular. She rounded with a dirk and slammed it down through the eye and into the brain. It died in an instant.
It was larger than she had realised, an elk of some stature. Its antlers spanned much too heavily for his head. He must have been ready to shed them.
She had planned to hunt deep into the dawn, but this prize would be enough on its own. She rigged a rope around it and dragged the carcass behind her. Her father would have carried it over his shoulders, but she was barely half his size, and this creature was almost thrice hers.
Silken shadows stretched across the silverwood trees. The gentle stars twinkled through the black canopy while the firebugs danced along the bush beaten path.
¡°Tebea?¡± A man''s voice called in the distance. ¡°Vero ad mahi.¡± She couldn¡¯t parse the meaning, but it sounded conversational.
¡°Tebea!¡± A second voice said, seemingly in protest.
Ash dropped her prey on the path and snuck closer to the distant men. She prowled as though hunting some predator. Her footfalls were as close to silent as any human could hope to achieve. Her eyes scanned each step before it was made as to avoid twigs and crunchy leaves. She came upon a thick brush and saw the torchlight on the other side. She parted some of the leaves and the men came into view.
The first was a brute, all meat and mean. He bore more scars than hairs and his massive belly ¨C well muscled as he was ¨C barely fit beneath the cobbled plate cuirass. He carried a war spike; a two-handed sharpened steel hammer of kinds, designed to pierce even the thickest of armour.
Beside, and a metre beneath, him stood the second man. Scrawny and scruffy. He dyed his thick and tangled beard a vibrant green; though he too had no hair on his scalp. He strapped an assortment of dirks and daggers to his strange bodice. A chipped and rusty shortsword dangled from his hip without a scabbard to shield it from the elements.
Half a dozen others backed them, all equally dishevelled and all bearing what must have been scavenged gear. The men bore the same colours, green and blue stripes crossing over their clothes and shields. They were clearly some faction or troop. Though they seemed jovial enough, they were blatantly men of ill repute. She doubted they would take too kindly to her.
Ash returned to her felled prey and snuck back along the trail, covering her tracks as best she could despite the massive elk she held in tow.
The sun crested at last as she came upon the clearing. She wasted little time in stowing the elk away in the skinning hut behind Tilak''s hillock. She bound it to the table and left for the village.
¡°Caro!¡± She called as she reached the gate. He jolted from his post and looked out to her as she ran towards him. He spun the chain that raised the village gate to allow her in, but she stopped short, pointing out to the forest. ¡°Caro! There were men in the forest,¡± she panted.
¡°Armed?¡± He asked as his gaze rose to the obscured horizon. He seemed to lap over the treeline as to weed out any ambushing archers.
¡°Aye. Their gear looked scavenged,¡± she said, still trying to gather her breath.
¡°Bandits, then. Probably picked from corpses,¡± Carolet suggested. He peeled his eyes from the trees and looked behind him into the village. ¡°Boy!¡± He called.
A scruffy young man, around Evara¡¯s age, popped his dirty face around the gate. His roughly shaven head retained small patches of matt black hair and his first attempts at a moustache garnered him no favour with the local girls.
¡°Fetch the Elder,¡± Carolet ordered. ¡°Sai-Weleg, can you patrol the wall for now?¡±
The boy dashed away dutifully.
¡°You want me to man the wall?¡± Ash questioned.
¡°Just until the Elder can send for the Baron,¡± He assured. Ashtik hesitantly nodded and climbed the ladder behind him. She took up the bow resting on the gatehouse and set her sight to the treeline.
¡°Ser Carolet?¡± The Elder groaned as he limped his way towards the gate.
¡°Temujin, you need to send for the Baron,¡± Caro shouted from beneath the wall.
¡°Is there a problem?¡± The old man questioned in his ever-raspy way.
¡°The Sai-Weleg spotted bandits in the woods,¡± Carolet reported.
¡°How many?¡± The Elder asked.
¡°At least eight, sir,¡± Ash called from atop of the alure. ¡°Though there could be a dozen more within the woods.¡±
¡°Ashtik?¡± The Elder nearly gasped. ¡°I hadn¡¯t seen you. My apologies.¡± His eyes lingered on her hand. On the mark it bore so proudly now. He hadn¡¯t seen it yet, nor had he seen the gauntlet that covered it. His blatant unease reminded her of it, of how unusual it was. Once Ash had subdued it, she no longer feared it. She barely even acknowledged it. It held as much space in her mind as the single freckle above her lip.
She matched his gaze and looked at her hand. The gauntlet was barely worthy of the name. It reached no further than her knuckles and left a gap in her palm to expose the mark. It was pure black steel, though light as air. She had tried to remove it once but gave in quickly. It was a second skin now. As much a part of her as her hair and nails.
¡°Elder?¡± Caro urged. He broke the old man¡¯s attention and grounded him in the situation.
¡°Of course,¡± the Elder nodded. ¡°I will send a white raven to the keep.¡±
Carolet patted his old friend on the shoulder before turning to Ash.
¡°In the meantime, we will need to conscript some fighters!¡± Caro shouted up to her.
¡°What can I do, ser?¡± Ash offered.
¡°Hold the wall until I return. I¡¯ll gather the smith¡¯s sons and the tell the bowyer to get to work,¡± Caro left without further regard. It seemed the danger lit a fire within him. He walked with an energy and purpose he had lacked since his long-forgotten youth.
Hours passed alone. The village seemed to take an edge. Nobody left the walls, nor did anybody approach. The miller¡¯s daughter, who would have usually returned to the mill by now, lingered in the market with a clear lack of purpose. She wasn¡¯t alone in her lingering. The children that would have been off into the woods on any other day must have been banned from doing so.
A man crested the horizon. He trod alone with a hand cart behind him. She couldn¡¯t see any weapons, and he wore thick flowing robes rather than armour. It seemed strange that a group of bandits would have allowed such an easy target to pass. He strolled, unencumbered, down the winding paths towards the clearing.
¡°Who goes there?¡± She called from behind the gate. The man raised a hand to her, as if to salute. He stopped his cart just before he reached the still closed gate.
¡°Avante, white hair,¡± the man called. ¡°They call me Torris. I have wares to trade.¡± He spoke with a thick rasp, like a man who¡¯d spent his life shouting over crowds and partying in Vamish smoke dens.
¡°A trader?¡± Ash suspiciously mumbled. She jumped over the wall and landed next to his cart, spear in hand. The gate was shut before them, but she could climb over and open it should she choose to. ¡°You didn¡¯t come upon any bandits?¡±
¡°Bandits? In Maester Veil?¡± The trader questioned.
¡°Aye, or at least we believe so,¡± Ash said as she poked through his cart.
¡°Should I be worried, guardswoman?¡±
¡°Not at all. The village Elder has sent for the Baron already. His forces should dispatch any foes within the half-week.¡±
¡°I see...¡± His cloth gloved hand tugged at his rough spun hood as he seemed to ponder what she said. ¡°Be you the only guard against these bandits? So young are you and - not to doubt you ¨C but you seem somewhat undersized for a stalwart,¡± the man timidly said.
¡°I assure you, tradesman, these walls will prove stalwart enough for the both of us. I hope they are sufficiently sized for you, at least,¡± she coldly snapped.
His cart proved somewhat impressive. An assortment of Oaranic goods, Ishran jewels and Vamish silks. A box held within it a series of scrolls, written in some southern tongue that Evara may be interested in.
¡°I do not mean to offend, guardswoman. All I meant was in my travels, most villages this small only had one or two guards. Do you have a fellow?¡± He asked as he bowed his head. Ash pulled away from the cart and looked him over one more time. His lips were cracked, almost to the point of bleeding. She saw no hair falling from his hood, though he bore his face proudly and blatantly.
¡°In truth, I am no guard, but a huntress. The guardsman, Ser Carolet, is off gathering a larger force in case of an attack.¡±
¡°Ser Carolet? A knight?¡± He mumbled. ¡°Thank you, white-hair. This has given me a measure of comfort.¡± The man grinned through his cracked lips. His smile bore his blackened teeth, and his face wrinkled uncomfortably.
¡°Sai-Weleg!¡± A man cried from within the walls. ¡°Bandit!¡± He called. She gripped her spear and poked her head through the gate as to get a view of the man. The only man in the village smaller than her came bounding, with his finger pointed behind her. ¡°He¡¯s the bandit!¡± Vamet called, but he was too late.
The black toothed man rounded on Ash. A blade drew from beneath the cart and plunged towards her. All she could manage was to fall backwards, away from him. She collapsed against the metal bars of the gate as the sword slashed an inch from her chest. He dragged the blade down and slashed again. He was savage, and much stronger than he had looked.
Ash managed to swipe the flat of his blade with the shaft of her spear. It sent him off balance and afforded her the time to move away from him. He was fast and strong, but unskilled. She managed to dive and dodge away from each of his strikes, but she never managed one of her own. He kept her on the backfoot the entire time. She managed a single thrust, and just caught his elbow with the side of her spear tip. It was a mistake; he wrapped his arm around the shaft and dragged her closer, holding his blade out to impale her. She rolled again, this time to his side, though without her weapon to keep him at bay, his savage attacks kept getting closer and closer.
She ducked a horizontal slash. She stepped aside as he swung the blade around to split her in half. She even managed to strike him in the jaw when he overextended his thrust. It did naught more than anger him.
He had thrown her spear too far for her to recover, though she still had one option. She had to get close.
¡°Stand still!¡± He roared. A thrust came then. She grabbed the cross guard and pulled herself within an inch of the man. She had no time for thought, only instinct and muscle memory. She pictured a raging wolf tearing at her, and she pictured her dirk slitting its throat. Only, this wasn¡¯t a wolf; this was a man, and he knew to avoid the dirk.
She clipped his neck but failed to secure the deadly blow. He pulled her in closer and smashed his head against hers. The world turned white for an instant, and then the ground raced up to smash into her.
She heard him grunt and growl like a feral beast, but he didn¡¯t strike. He clung to his neck and staunched the profuse bleeding. ¡°You bitch!¡± He gurgled as he fell to one knee. She jumped at the chance, pulling her dirk from the mud and diving at him.
She struck again and again. His cloak tore and the armour it disguised burst into a mound of blood and viscera. She plunged the dirk down with a wild precision. It may have looked like random slaughter, but she knew what she was doing. First, she slipped his ribs and opened his lungs. Then, she dragged right until she felt the heart burst beneath her. Then she shattered his sternum and slit his throat. She crushed his sword bearing arm beneath her boot. Then the begging gave way to screaming, and the screaming gave way to gurgling, and the gurgling; silence.
She had never killed a man; she should be sad, or sorry, or scared? She wasn¡¯t. The mound that had been a man made her feel nothing; and that made her feel like a monster. She hated how calm she was. She hated how steady her hands were. She was disgusted that she had so accurately cut each of his vital organs. She hated that she stopped as soon as he stopped moving. She hated that it wasn¡¯t passionate, but calculated.
The rains began. Warm and gentle. She watched it roll from his corpse. She watched the blood saturate the mud. She followed a tear of blood as it dripped from his face. She didn¡¯t move when his hand started twitching. She knew he was dead, that his hand danced only as the spirits dragged him to the devoid. Her eyes fell from his hand to her own. One was red and soaked in him. The other was black and consumed in steel. The gauntlet seemed to have spread. It covered all but her fingertips and wrist. Would it continue to grow, to consume her, even after she supposedly subdued it? She wondered if the death had been what strengthened it. If her patron goden or goddess was some kind of deity of death. She hoped not, she would rather the goddess that sprouts fruit.
¡°Ashtik?¡± Caro called. The gate rose very slightly and slammed shut behind him as he ran through the newly muddy field. She hadn¡¯t realised how far the fight had taken her. She must have been halfway to the treeline. She remained sat beside his corpse, fascinated by it for a moment. The enchantment broke when the final act of all men came to be, and the smell of sullied armour forced her to gag.
¡°Ashtik!¡± Caro called again. The old knight panted his way across the hilly field in his heavy steel armour.
¡°I¡¯m okay, Caro,¡± she grunted. She didn¡¯t realise it was a lie until she stood. Her legs were worthless and collapsed beneath her. The dizziness, the risen blood, the loathing; but most of all, the fucking smell. It struck her harder than the supposed trader had. She released the day into the mud beneath her. Chunks of rabbit and potato, ox beef and fresh grief. It all poured out as she hunched on all fours.
She felt a kind hand pat her back, though he didn¡¯t think to hold her hair from the mess. ¡°Let it out, lass. It''s just the fear leaving you,¡± Caro whispered. Once the worst of it stopped, he took her weight into his shoulder and helped her away from the dead bandit.
¡°He was a scout,¡± Ashtik muttered.
¡°Then it is fortunate you stopped him from reporting back,¡± Caro comforted.
¡°I- I didn¡¯t...¡± she stammered. ¡°I didn¡¯t know. Vamet... The trader told me.¡± Ash could barely speak through her fresh exhaustion.
¡°But you stopped him. Be proud of that.¡±
Proud wasn¡¯t the word. Something other, something more fateful. It felt... Right.
The Elder checked her over but found only the cut on her forehead from where he had struck. He made no attempt to hide where his true interests lay. He took her hand into his and fussed over the gauntlet. He pointed to her covered knuckles and said, ¡°It spread?¡±
¡°Yes. After he died; or during the fight, I¡¯m not sure.¡±
¡°I feared it would,¡± he admitted.
¡°What does this make me? The Champion of death?¡±
¡°No, not that... It cannot be my place to tell you any more than that.¡±
¡°Then who will?¡±
¡°The Conclave, I believe. Though they will not welcome you.¡±
¡°The Conclave? That¡¯s half a world away! Why would the high priests care about me?¡±
The Elder paced back and forth. Each step stressed a wooden plank beneath him. He held the same scroll he had read the night she gained the mark.
¡°Elder!¡± She demanded.
¡°You are a Champion, Ashtik. Of that, there can be no doubt. There are many gods out there, and all have a champion of their own. You are none of theirs.¡±
Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Then who? Which god seeks to claim me? Which god do I have to defy?¡±
¡°Defy?¡± He repeated in shock.
¡°The gods of the Conclave, the patrons of these ¡®champions¡¯, are not my gods. I will not bow to them simply because they wish it. I am a huntress, a danger, not a plaything.¡±
¡°You risk much, Ashtik. The gods can be kind and generous; or they can be petty and cruel. If the power they offer you does not temp; they may seek to coerce you through less honeyed means,¡± he was worried and made it apparent in his eyes. He knew her to be making a mistake and though the words failed him, his eyes pled endlessly for her to reconsider.
¡°Better they kill me as I fight, than let them control me as their pawn.¡±
Ser Carolet re-entered the room, blade in hand. ¡°Temujin,¡± he panted. ¡°They¡¯re here.¡±
They were closer to a hundred than the dozen she had supposed. Green and blue stripes filled the field as the small horde marched closer. They set up camp on the hill track leading to the village while a wooden palanquin carried over the mud. Four men carried it on their well armoured backs. They must have been the bosses. Where their fellows wore rags and scraps, they wore shining ring mail and leather-bound scale. They each bore weapons of war, not combat. The front most stowed a massive pike, fit for the heaviest of cavalry charges. Behind him was the man Ash had spotted in the woods. His massive war pick rested on his shoulder while the palanquin lay on the other. The other men carried a halberd each.
The smith and his sons manned the walls, crossbows in hand, while Caro and Ash stood behind the gate.
¡°Stop there!¡± Carolet ordered to the approaching men.
¡°The Duke shan¡¯t stand in mud before you, ser knight,¡± the foremost man called. He spoke with a heavy accent; one she couldn¡¯t place but precluded his ability to pronounce the letter ¡®m¡¯ as anything but a ¡®v¡¯.
¡°Your duke shall face a quarrel should he come any closer,¡± Carolet replied.
¡°Hold gentlemen,¡± a voice called from within the wooden box. His accent seemed lesser compared to the others, though it was still blatant. ¡°Ser knight! We simply wish to parley. Would you stain this rite with blood?¡± He remained within, though slid a window open.
¡°We may parley from here, though know we are unwilling to accept your surrender,¡± Carolet blustered.
The bandits turned aside and knelt in the mud. The door slid open and out came an inappropriately ostentatious man. He bore a garish pink chest plate and colossal war sword. The man himself was somewhat below average in stature, and Ash doubted he could so much as raise the weapon let alone swing it.
¡°Be that my man?¡± He called as he sullied his boots in the blood and shit of the dead bandit.
¡°Your man, and your first corpse. We¡¯ll grant you many more before we surrender our lives,¡± Caro replied.
¡°There is no need for this, Ser knight. We needn¡¯t come to blows. My men seek plunder, not death,¡± the Duke, as he had been called, toed at the hand of his disembowelled fellow.
¡°We have no plunder for you. We are a humble village, rich only in community and love,¡± Caro said. The Duke laughed at that, and Ash was half tempted to join him.
¡°That¡¯s the most disgusting thing I¡¯ve ever heard,¡± the Duke laughed. ¡°Keep your community. I want your grain.¡±
¡°It is the cusp of winter, to do so would be the same as falling upon your blades,¡± Caro protested.
¡°No, it would be giving away your grain. Falling upon a blade is much more painful, as I fear you are soon to learn,¡± he turned to his palanquin and made away without another word.
Carolet turned to the Elder and the two old men stood in fearful silence. ¡°How long will the Baron be?¡± Carolet asked.
¡°Too long, I fear,¡± The Elder said with his gaze distant.
¡°Then we hold for as long as we can. Gather every abled body man and put them to the wall,¡± Caro said with a false determination.
¡°I do not believe it would matter. This battle is not our own,¡± The Elder whispered, just loud enough for Ash to hear. She walked closer to the two men as her gaze met the Elders.
¡°I need to get my family,¡± Ash said.
¡°I already have,¡± Caro replied, patting her on the shoulder. ¡°They reside in the fletchers.¡±
¡°My father will want to fight.¡±
¡°Yes, he does; and he will have to.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t want him to, he¡¯s not strong enough.¡±
¡°Then,¡± The Elder interrupted. ¡°He shall not.¡± His pensive glare penetrated her. It stripped the gauntlet from her hand and obsessed over the black abyss below.
¡°Temujin? We need every man. He is a hunter; he must fight,¡± Caro protested.
¡°It is not our decision, old friend,¡± he said, unwavering in his assault on Ash¡¯s hand.
¡°No? You¡¯re the village Elder, I¡¯m the village sheriff. Whose decision could it possibly be?¡± The old knight wondered. He noticed the Elder¡¯s gaze and followed it along to Ashtik¡¯s palm. ¡°Temujin?¡± He uttered.
¡°We must abide the will of our Champion,¡± The Elder humbly bowed.
¡°Champion?¡± Carolet repeated, almost in disgust, as he witnessed the old man bow before the teenage girl.
¡°This is not a coincidence, Ashtik. Your patron has sent these men. This battle is yours.¡±
¡°Temujin, she¡¯s a child ¨C and certainly no Champion ¨C this is madness. You cannot give her rein,¡± Caro protested, moving to the Elder and forcing him out of his bow. He placed a hand on his old friend¡¯s shoulder as he forced his gaze.
¡°Aye, she is young, but she is chosen for this. We must trust in her; and failing that, the gods.¡±
¡°I trust in steel, and the men carrying it. Gods will do us no favours; she has no divine weapon, no power over men. I will lead this defence as best it can be led.¡±
¡°The Champion will win this day, Carolet. Not us.¡±
¡°Hang on!¡± Ash shouted. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to lead a defence. Caro is an experienced soldier; I''m not even convinced that I am this Champion.¡±
¡°Hence this day comes. Be it a lesson, or an origin, this day may well define you.¡± The Elder took her gauntlet into his hands and squoze. It was strange that she could feel him doing so, even through the solid steel. ¡°Be brave, Ashtik. You may not be your god¡¯s champion for now; but you have to be ours.¡±
¡°This is madenss, Temujin,¡± Caro huffed as he turned back to the wall. He knew arguing would be pointless, that the Elder had the last word in all things.
¡°Carolet, wait,¡± the Elder meekly ordered. ¡°What would your plan be? How would we survive this?¡±
Carolet didn¡¯t face them. He barely acknowledged them as he stopped in place.
¡°They have thirty men for each one of ours, trained and blood-soaked. My plan wasn¡¯t to win,¡± he whispered, his voice full of fate and memory. ¡°My plan was to die well.¡±
She marched before her impenetrable army. Her insatiable vanguard. Her eternal militia. All eight of them. The smith had four sons, all as tall and toned as any young man hope to be. None were as old as Ash, though all overlooked her. The other men were; a miner, a gouty baker, the foreign merchant and the old knight.
¡°It''s not enough fighters,¡± Ash grumbled to the old knight.
¡°No,¡± He agreed. ¡°But it''s all we have.¡±
¡°What about the women?¡± Ash asked.
¡°The women?¡± Carolet repeated.
¡°Yeah, there must be at least ten more women of fighting age.¡±
¡°Women aren¡¯t safe in battle,¡± Caro awkwardly protested, fully aware of who he spoke to.
¡°Nobody''s safe in battle, it''s a bloody battle. Women are in no more danger than men.¡±
¡°Yes... You are,¡± Caro sighed. ¡°A man may face his death, be it quick or slow, but they will not be so merciful to the women.¡±
¡°They will face that same fate if we lose. The men will all die, and the women will face their ¡®mercy¡¯. Should they be denied the right to fight?¡± She asked.
¡°It would make no difference in the end. Fight or no, they are simply too many and we are simply too weak.¡±
¡°But we don¡¯t need to beat them, we simply need to hold out until the Baron arrives.¡±
¡°That could be two days. The walls won¡¯t hold.¡±
¡°Then we let them fall and put our faith elsewhere.¡± Ash turned from the line up and looked out to her village; the hillocks and the houses set into them.
¡°Elsewhere?¡± He asked, trying to match her gaze but finding nothing of note.
A thought found Ash, fleeting and almost silly but one that clung to her mind.
¡°Tunnels,¡± she muttered. ¡°We dig out tunnels.¡±
¡°And flee?¡± Caro guessed.
¡°And attack,¡± Ash corrected.
¡°We haven¡¯t the time to dig out any great network. They will attack tonight at the latest.¡±
¡°Sai-Weleg, I may have a suggestion,¡± Vamet bowed from his place in the lineup.
¡°By all means,¡± Ash said, her mind still focused on some far-flung plan.
¡°Well, it is simply that, within my modest remaining stocks, I have a measure of infernal powder. I would be willing to donate it to your cause,¡± He said in his ever-elegant sales tone.
¡°Infernal powder?¡± Ash questioned.
¡°Indeed. Yellow and foul as the hells for which they are named. Not to mention, noxious as it comes,¡± Vamet bowed.
¡°Noxious?¡± Ash dumbly asked.
¡°Is this not the word? I apologise, I know I am inadept in your tongue,¡± Vamet apologised.
¡°It is the right word, master Vamet,¡± a little voice giggled from behind her. ¡°She just has a bare grasp of her own language.¡±
Ash turned to meet little steel eyes. Her sister stood there, no longer in her dresses or frills. She wore huntress¡¯ garb. Leather padded armour, barely fitting on her tiny frame. A quiver of quarrels strapped to her thigh and a light crossbow slung over her back. She was ready for war.
¡°Ev?¡± Ash questioned. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±
¡°Fighting for my life,¡± she said with an innocent smile.
¡°No,¡± Ash quickly cut off. She stormed over to the young girl. ¡°You¡¯re fourteen, Ev, you aren¡¯t going to fight.¡±
¡°She can¡¯t fight?¡± Carolet said in a strange tone. ¡°Your father can¡¯t fight. What about your mother? Why do you expect everyone else to fight and sacrifice their families when you won¡¯t do the same?¡±
¡°I am fighting,¡± Ash insisted. ¡°But she¡¯s too young.¡±
¡°What about him?¡± Carolet pointed to the line of men. The furthest of them, the smith¡¯s youngest son, looked at her with a hopeful shine. He masked his smile well, but it was blatant in his stance ¨C and fidgety bounce ¨C that he was excited. ¡°He¡¯s not a year older than her. Is he to die, but not her?¡±
¡°You said it yourself; she¡¯s in more danger,¡± Ash protested, subtly moving closer to Caro.
¡°And you said it yourself; it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±
¡°Ash!¡± Evara shouted as Ashtik instinctively squared up to the old knight. She stepped between the two and looked to Caro. ¡°Our father cannot fight. The cancer has spread too far, he will be useless,¡± she said, and it was final. Then she turned to Ash, with a hand on her shoulder; pushing her back. ¡°I am here to fight, with or without your permission, but I offer more than a few bolts from my crossbow.¡± She shoved Ash back half a pace before storming over to Vamet.
¡°Your infernal powder, it is what we call phoenix ash.¡±
¡°What?¡± Carolet gasped. She ignored him and turned to the eldest of the smith¡¯s sons.
¡°How much peat and pitch do you have?¡± She demanded.
¡°I... Err...¡±
¡°Child, it¡¯s a war crime!¡± Carolet protested.
¡°It¡¯s a crime because it works,¡± Evara protested.
¡°It¡¯s a crime because its evil. You don¡¯t know what that stuff does,¡± He persisted.
¡°Yes, I do.¡±
¡°No, you don¡¯t. You might have read of the alchemy and its effects; but war fire sticks to the flesh. It melts the eyes. It boils your blood while you still stand and scream. It burns the air from within your lungs. It is evil.¡±
¡°You have faced this before?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Yes... My liege used it to win a losing battle. It is the reason I left the life. It is the reason I came here,¡± he spoke with shame, with regret. He spoke as though his answer was half a truth he had sworn to himself never to speak.
¡°And your liege... Was he tried for his crime?¡± Ash mercilessly pressed.
¡°I-¡± he stammered. He wanted to lie, to stop her; instead, his shoulders slumped and his eyes filled with dread. ¡°No, he was made a king.¡±
Ash made up her mind. She stood to Evara¡¯s back. ¡°You can make this war fire?¡± Ash asked.
¡°We have all the ingredients. It will not be as potent as the real stuff, but we can substitute the cave salt easily enough,¡± Evara answered.
¡°You will not forget this action, Evara. Not so long as you live,¡± Carolet seethed.
¡°But she will live to regret it. That is more than your ¡®noble¡¯ path offers her,¡± Ash snapped. She dismissed him back to the lineup and turned her imperious gaze to the eldest smith.
¡°As she said, smith. How much peat and pitch?¡±
¡°Much, white hair. Twelve kein at least,¡± he answered in a tone much too timid for a man of his size.
¡°Is that enough, Ev?¡±
¡°Plenty. I will get to work. Tell the big one to bring the barrels to the Elder¡¯s house,¡± she said, already bouncing away to her new laboratory.
¡°How does she know of war fire?¡± Carolet whispered once the younger was out of earshot.
¡°It must have been in one of her scrolls.¡± The thought disquieted her mind from its strategizing. The idea that she had unknowingly given her ward the recipe to a war crime was not one she cherished. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter right now.¡± Ash shook her head as to rid her mind of the burdensome thought.
¡°Very well,¡± Caro nodded. ¡°What is your plan?¡±
Ash moved to the middle of the men and stood as tall as she could, despite her dispositional disadvantage.
¡°Gentlemen, we have an opportunity. I have, for each man, a task. Miner, I need you to dig some tunnels between homes. Do it quickly and do it well.¡± She paused for a moment as to let him begin. He remained where he stood, unaware she wanted him to go. Ser Carolet was kind enough to push him onward and the miner got to his task.
¡°Baker. I need you to tear down the village. Gather all of the wood and stone you can and bring it to the Elder¡¯s home,¡± she said, pausing again. He half stepped but wasn¡¯t sure she wanted him gone yet. He looked her in the eyes for permission, but she avoided his, instead nodding him away.
¡°Vamet. Unless you have any more tools for us...¡± She paused again.
¡°I¡¯m afraid not, unless you intend to win the day through well-seasoned meals,¡± Vamet uncomfortably laughed.
¡°Very well. Then, I ask that you speak with the women of fighting age. Convince them to fight with us.¡±
¡°You ask me to do this? I am a stranger here,¡± Vamet protested.
¡°You are more charming as a stranger than I as a neighbour. Convince them, I beg you,¡± she said. It took no more than that and he was off, already practicing his sales voice and flirting face.
¡°Smiths,¡± she continued. ¡°Take the wood and stone from the village and build a new wall within the village. Surround the Elder¡¯s home and make it sturdy,¡± she ordered. ¡°Oh and get Evara the barrels,¡± she awkwardly finished.
¡°Aye,¡± the eldest said. He gathered his brothers and they all marched to work.
¡°And of me, ¡®Champion¡¯?¡± Carolet asked with a suppressed hint of disapproval.
¡°I would ask your advice, Caro,¡± she meekly said.
¡°My advice would be to stop this course of action,¡± Ash grunted in disappointment at his words, though Carolet heeded her as much as Ash heeded him. ¡°Maybe the Temujin was right. Maybe this is a day sent by the gods. A lesson... Or a choice, He continued.
¡°A choice?¡± Ash repeated.
¡°Corruption, or death. The gods offer you death, a release from their servitude and a good path to be a good woman. Or they offer you victory, and all the blood that comes from it.¡±
¡°So, I can be a slave or a corpse?¡± Ash sighed.
¡°You can be a hero, or you can live. If this war flame is the first choice you make as a holy Champion, what will you look like when you come into your full Championship?¡±
¡°I¡¯d look alive,¡± Ash mocked.
¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure.¡±
¡°Look,¡± Ashtik groaned. ¡°I need your advice, not your philosophy.¡±
¡°Then I am here to advice, my good lady,¡± he sardonically said. She ignored his tone and got to her plan.
¡°Where will they attack?¡± She asked.
¡°Everywhere,¡± he answered, though he caught the truth of her question after a half second. ¡°The main gate,¡± he corrected. ¡°They are arrogant and out for blood.¡±
¡°Will they climb the walls?¡± She asked.
¡°If we man them. They will face our challenges gladly.¡±
¡°So, if we man the gate wall. They will climb over instead of breaking the gate?¡±
¡°I believe so.¡±
She looked at the gate. Its rusty old bars had stood for nearly a century. Each rivet was original, there from the days of the first villager. It was the first thing she could remember of the village. It was so unnatural. So man-made. The villagers lived in holes in hills, ate from the nameless forest and walked among barefoot grasses. Then there was this massive mound of forged iron that held the world at bay. It dripped with grease and oil even in the middle of a rainstorm. It had rained none-stop all day, yet if she ran a finger across it, her finger wouldn¡¯t have a drop of water on it; only a layer of black oil. She always imagined a single spark would set the entire wall alight, though Evara had told her that it was a different kind of oil that could be lit... An infernal kind. The kind Evara was brewing at this very moment.
She always imagined a single spark would set the entire wall alight...
¡°Then we burn the wall,¡± she whispered.
¡°We what?¡± Caro coughed. ¡°The wall is our only advantage. We can¡¯t burn it!¡±
¡°But if we lose the wall; when we lose the wall. If we cover it in your war fire, how long would it burn for?¡± She pondered.
¡°A long... long while,¡± he whispered, a hint of hope finding him.
¡°A day?¡±
¡°Or more...¡±
¡°Then we douse the walls, and light them as they cross,¡± she said.
¡°Then we retreat to Temujin¡¯s house. Hold them back for however long we need.¡± He even seemed to smile, though it lacked much lustre. His new hope was tempered with a lifetime of agony and disappointment. He couldn¡¯t muster the vigour and excitement of youth, of inexperience.
¡°Then we must work quickly and hope the gods are on our side,¡± he whispered.
Chapter Three: Bloody Battle.
There is a sound nature hates most. It¡¯s men, clothed in steel, marching in the rain. It''s the beating of war drums in a peaceful village. It¡¯s the sound of needless death, and nature would suffer this day.
Her men had worked well, as had the women Vamet had managed to recruit. They erected shoulder high walls around the Elder¡¯s home. They dug tunnels from within and spread them around the village. They worked as a community on the brink, as the best of humanity.
She knew the best wouldn¡¯t be enough.
¡°Ash,¡± the little voice whispered, breaking her trance. She turned to look at her. Evara stood so small. She had removed her armour and donned a thick smithing apron and gloves. An emerald stain slashed across the apron like the stroke of a brush, or blade. ¡°It¡¯s done.¡±
¡°Good,¡± Ash darkly replied. She could see the smith and her father by the gate house, spreading the golden resin over the soaked wooden walls. Rain beat down hard, but it at least kept them cool as they worked.
¡°Can...¡± Evara eked. Her voice failed betrayed her as she looked to the horizon, and the ravenous horde that blocked it out.
¡°What?¡± Ash kindly pushed. She took her little sister¡¯s face into her hands and forced her gaze from the killers, to her.
¡°Can we win?¡± Evara choked.
¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Ash warmly admitted. ¡°But I think we can survive.¡±
Her smile wasn¡¯t quite forced, but it was hard to keep.
¡°Go back to the Elder¡¯s home,¡± Ash ordered. It flipped Evara in an instant, and her eyes set to anger.
¡°No,¡± Evara said with little left on her fuse. She didn¡¯t quite stamp her feet, but she did look unusually petulant beneath the rain.
¡°Go back to the Elder¡¯s home,¡± she slowly repeated, much more severely this time.
¡°But...¡±
¡°Go back to the Elder¡¯s home,¡± She quietly repeated a final time. It was enough, Evara gave in. She grunted and stormed away, back to their impromptu keep.
¡°She¡¯s a great shot,¡± Carolet whispered from beneath the alure. ¡°We need her.¡±
¡°They¡¯re going to kill us, Caro. Her being a good shot won¡¯t save her, but her being a good shot from behind those walls may,¡± she hopped down and met him beneath the wall. He was sharpening his steel in the only place covered from the rain. He oiled it and dabbed it in a foreign manner. A method he must have picked up on his journeys as a free rider.
¡°It¡¯s a waste of her abilities,¡± he insisted, though with little vigour.
¡°You said the same of me, then you complained when I was given charge,¡± Ash grunted. She sat on an empty barrel beside him, and he passed her an apple from his pack. She thanked him with a nod and sliced into it with her dirk.
¡°That posture will kill you when you get to my age,¡± he laughed. She was sat with one leg dangled over the barrel and her cheek resting on the other. Her back was bent and arched like some raging feline.
¡°I have many things to fear in the future, getting to your age is not one of them,¡± she laughed, though she did straighten out somewhat. They sat quietly for a moment while he oiled his halberd, and she crunched away at her apple.
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he finally said. He placed his weapon aside and looked to her. It caught her by surprise, and she choked on a chunk of her apple.
¡°F- for what?¡± She spluttered.
¡°You are right,¡± he sniffed as he spoke. ¡°I said you wasted your abilities, and then the Elder forced you to act upon your potential and I was petty.¡±
¡°Oh, I-¡± She tried to say but he interrupted her.
¡°You have done more than I would have. Should Temujin have given me the command, we would have fought and died honourably. Under your command, many may yet live. I will not be amongst them,¡± his voice took a grim turn at that, but he wasn¡¯t done. ¡°I would have fought how I have always fought. The time-tested methods of honourable combat. You fight in a new way, in a necessary way. Remember that when you take your Championship, but also remember what comes next. I want you to watch them as they burn. I want you to remember the effects of your choices. The skin melting from young boys who fight only because they must. The pops as bubbles beneath the flesh burst. The heat of hellfire. Remember what you have inflicted, and what you have the potential to inflict upon this world. Then, I beg you, give a thought to honour. To the right way of war.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t want to fight wars, Caro,¡± Ash whispered. She tucked her knees into her chest and buried her face. ¡°I don¡¯t want to watch them burn. I just want to go home.¡±
¡°I know, child, but this is the consequence of this kind of victory. If the Elder is correct ¨C if you are the Champion ¨C you will never go home again. I¡¯m sorry.¡±
She had no time to ponder him. A horn blew and a march began. The sun had set and the black night had rose. They marched without discipline, without order. They marched as a thousand when they were fewer than two-hundred. She wasted no words as she dashed atop of the wall. Her smith sons flanked her and a half dozen wives and daughters took up arms to her back. They had each a crude chest plate and helm. Simple beaten iron with leather straps. They must have been made in an hour each. She took a bow from Vamet and strung it at his side. ¡°Carolet?¡± She whispered and the old man appeared at her side.
¡°We hold until they are close,¡± he whispered to her.
¡°Tell us what to do,¡± she said with complete determination.
He bound a bow of his own and stood to the far side of the alure.
¡°Friends!¡± He called. ¡°We loose only when I give the order. We retreat only when Sai-Weleg gives the order. We surrender only in death. We die only when the day is won. Nock your bows, bolt your quarrellers and prepare yourselves. We do this together.¡±
They drew arrows and held them to string. They racked back the crossbows and loaded bolts. They drew terminal breaths. They made final glances to their homes. They readied for death.
The first wave didn¡¯t even march. They sauntered along the water-logged fields as if on some beachside stroll. Twenty men, all armed and armoured in stolen valour, ready to pillage, and kill, and worse.
¡°Draw!¡± Carolet called, and they did. It was a painful second before he called again. ¡°Loose!¡±
The arrows tore true, half even hit their targets.
¡°Draw!¡± Caro called again. ¡°Loose!¡± They repeated on and on, and the inexperienced quickly grew fatigued. They held war bows, meant for piercing steel, the draw proved too great for the farmhand¡¯s young daughter. Then the gouty baker dropped his bow as he loosed an arrow. Next to fail was a pale and skinny woman. Her elbow bent inwards too far and the bow string tore up, and shredded the skin from, her forearm.
The order came to fire at will, and the women who could, stood back and kept hailing arrows and bolts while the men took up steel and held the bandits from climbing the walls. The smith¡¯s sons had true steel, blades and pikes meant for war; while the rest of them had tools and equipment. A pitchfork pierced a climbing marauder, and a sack of rocks collapsed another. Ash picked and jabbed with her spear at all who came too close while Caro used the short of his halberd to slash along the ladders that had been placed on the wall.
¡°The full force approaches!¡± Carolet called. She saw the truth of it in an instant. They charged like ravenous beasts. They gnashed fangs of steel as the rain rolled from their brigandine flesh.
The horn sounded again. Once, then twice then thrice.
¡°Thrice for blood,¡± Carolet shouted. ¡°This is our chance!¡±
¡°Fall back!¡± Ash called over the clash of steel and iron. Her little band of unblooded levies fell at once from the wall, leaving only Carolet and Ash to hold back the tide.
¡°Ashtik. Go!¡± Carolet ordered. A man in chainmail managed to get between them and Carolet sliced him near in half. He traded his halberd for a longsword discarded by a foul-smelling corpse. He carved his way closer to her as she danced along the alure.
¡°Okay! Let¡¯s go!¡± Ash called back once the others had made it back to the Elder¡¯s home.
Ash bound from the walls, rolling gently once she reached the ground. Caro was less graceful, pulling a bandit close and jumping down with the fresh corpse to act as his cushion. Ash slowed herself to his pace as the two made for the inner wall.
¡°Fire!¡± She called as they got close. A dozen burning arrows tore the air apart as they charged with even greater ferocity than the bandits had. The wall caught, but not enough. The rain slowed the spread and barely a quarter of the wall had been afflicted. Men dove over by the dozen; all screaming out for blood.
Dread and defeat had her, until she saw a little white beacon standing atop of the Elder¡¯s hillock.
¡°Burn,¡± she whispered much too quietly for Ash to hear. A bolt was sent from her crossbow. It wasn¡¯t aflame but had some strange ceramic bulb at the end. It shattered against some man who stood before a wooden parapet. The ceramic shards sparked and sparkled like deathly silver starlets. Each ember landed upon the wood and stayed bright, and grew brighter, and brighter. The silver turned a brilliant blue, then a vibrant green. Then all was blue and green, and all was aflame.
The walls burnt like a beacon, like a bonfire. Some sacrifice to some starved gods.
Carolet was right about the effects. The crackling blaze was drowned out in an instant. All she heard was the screams. Men howling like wolves. The lucky begged the empty air for their lives, the rest begged for death. Some took the matter into their own hands, pulling molten daggers and slitting their own throats. One man tried to do the same, but the glowing steel stuck to his skin as he tried to drag it across his throat. Instead of slitting, it pulled and dragged the flesh from muscle. Then they had all screamed enough, and the flame buried itself in their lungs, choking their breath from within. One got close to the wall, and Ash ended him before he could spread the fire. She was close enough to see his eyelashes burning and his eyes melt. She saw his teeth falling out as the gums around them boiled away. He screamed without air in his lungs with a sound like an accusation or damnation. He swore undying vengeance upon her specifically, despite having no eyes to see her, nor tongue to say as much.
A man in the midst of it had the worst of it, by what she could see. His chest plate had melted inwards, and his helm had done much the same. Yet he lived. He ran, though his greaves had melted into the ground, straight off the alure. The helm boiled over his eyes and set his skin alight and the new air around him set a second flame from his flesh. He was writhing, and gagging, and dead. He was her victim, and her conquest.
¡°Ashtik!¡± Miel called from within the walls. ¡°Get inside!¡± She ordered. Caro stood behind the wall with as much flame in his eye as on the wall. He didn¡¯t see her anymore. Just the crime and the criminal. She walked past him and inwards.
¡°Snowy!¡± Tilak called. He forced her into a hug before checking her for wounds.
¡°I¡¯m unhurt, father,¡± she said from behind her haze.
¡°No, you''re not,¡± he shrieked. ¡°Ev!¡±
She appeared in as much of a daze as Ash was. She wobbled more so than walked. Each step seemed conscious. Each step seemed like the first she had ever taken.
¡°Evy, we need you,¡± Tilak insisted. He poked and prodded over Ash¡¯s various cuts and bruises. One took the full force of his mothering, a slash she had caught on her waist. It looked worse than it was, and it didn¡¯t look particularly bad. The leather padding of her armour had held almost all of the damage.
¡°You¡¯re hurt?¡± Ev dreamily asked.
¡°No,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Yes,¡± Tilak corrected. ¡°Please, Ev. If you are well enough.¡±
¡°Of course,¡± she answered. Evara moved closer to Ash and placed her little hands on her bloody wounds.
¡°Stop!¡± Ash shouted. She took Evara¡¯s shoulders into her hands and forced her gaze. Evara couldn¡¯t meet her, she was half a dream. ¡°Keep your energy, Ev. You¡¯ll need it.¡±
¡°But Ash-¡± Tilak tried to protest, but he was quickly snipped off by a dagger filled glare.
¡°She¡¯s not well, father,¡± Ash snapped.
¡°I¡¯m fine...¡± Ev breathily whispered, pushing her hands out again to heal. Her eyes couldn¡¯t find purchase and drifted lazily across her sister. Ashtik took her hands into one of her own and dragged the child into a hug.
¡°This isn¡¯t on you,¡± she whispered. The words destroyed Evara. They ran through her shock and pulled her back into the dirt and rain.
¡°They burnt,¡± she whimpered. ¡°I said ¡®burn¡¯, and they burnt.¡± She collapsed into the hug and held tighter than her little form could possibly give her strength enough to.
¡°It was my plan, my order. My burden. None of this is on you,¡± Ash whispered into her now silently weeping sister.
¡°It was my flame. My fuel and my spark,¡± Ev said from Ash¡¯s belly. ¡°I said ¡®burn¡¯ Ash. I wanted this.¡±
Words didn¡¯t find her. Words wouldn¡¯t be enough. The night had only just begun, what more sins could it drag from her?
¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ev. I gave you no choice. All you did was protect us.¡±
¡°I saw them burn. I saw the seared flesh. Gods, I heard them die. I can still smell it. Burn meat. They rolled in puddles of rainwater but all that did was boil them. Ash, what have we done?¡±
¡°You¡¯ve done nothing, Ev. I did what was necessary. They would have hurt you. I¡¯ll kill them all before that happens, in ways much worse than this.¡±
Her mother took the child without a word and Ash sat the wall deep into the night. No bandits crossed the flame, though they tried many times to douse it. Not rain, nor dirt or any of their other plans managed to dampen the vast pyre. The smell persisted the whole night. Oak smoked steel and man. It filled the clearing; they could probably smell it over in Duke¡¯s Crossing. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
¡°The stars have gone out,¡± Tilak whispered.
¡°It¡¯s the flame, it drowns out lesser lights,¡± Ash smiled. She joined his dumb gawking up at the stars, but few remained past the smoke, rain clouds and firelight.
¡°Can¡¯t even see heaven¡¯s belt,¡± Tilak moaned. ¡°But it¡¯s still there, behind it all. Trust in that, at least.¡±
¡°Trust in what?¡±
¡°Trust that despite the smoke and flame, clouds and chaos, the stars still shine. Even if we can¡¯t see them anymore. They¡¯re there, waiting to shine on us again.¡± He wrapped an arm around her. It was skinny, almost bone. She remembered what he had been like before. He could throw her across a room with a single hand. She could use his arm to do pull ups, now she couldn¡¯t trust it to pick her teeth.
¡°Is Evara sleeping?¡± She finally asked. He snorted a little, and she did the same, though she didn¡¯t know why.
¡°Yes, she is. As should you be.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t sleep right now,¡± Ash groaned. She stepped down from the wall and the blacksmith took her watch. Tilak followed her atop of a hay mound and the two sat beneath the blackened stars.
¡°Did they tell you?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Tell me what?¡±
¡°Why they gave me charge.¡±
¡°I- hadn¡¯t thought about it,¡± he laughed. ¡°You suit the role well; it¡¯s as if it was always yours.¡±
¡°I¡¯m a Champion, dad,¡± she said much too quickly. She tucked into her knees as he just laughed.
¡°That you are, my little champion,¡± he teased.
¡°No, as in a ¡®Champion¡¯ Champion,¡± she groaned. She buried her face in her knees.
¡°Oh...¡± He simply uttered. She couldn¡¯t see his slacked jaw or his widened eyes, but she could hear it in his hesitant breath. ¡°The... Champion of what?¡± He slowly asked. Tilak sat up and shuffled closer to her. He placed a gentle hand to her shoulder as he asked.
¡°I don¡¯t know yet; but nothing kind if today is to be taken rightly.¡± Ash raised her head and presented the black steel gauntlet to her father. ¡°This is what I wanted to show you. This is my mark.¡± The black abyss didn¡¯t cower this time. It stood proudly on her damaged flesh. The blood seeping over it seemed to fall into the endless pit.
¡°Oh...¡± He simply repeated. It could have been awe, or it could have been dread, but something took his words from him. ¡°Oh, Snowy...¡± He muttered. It seemed a tear had found his eye and was soon to find the floor. ¡°Look at me,¡± he said. She didn¡¯t want to, not under candlelight. He looked so gaunt. So ill.
¡°That¡¯s a sparrow, Ash,¡± he said, meaning the formless mark.
¡°It¡¯s nothing? Just an abyss,¡± Ash denied. She looked deep into the swirling and shifting mark and saw no trace of bird nor wing.
¡°You are an unfulfilled Champion. You cannot see the mark until it understands you. Trust me, it¡¯s a sparrow.¡±
¡°So, what does a sparrow mean?¡± Ash asked.
¡°A great many things,¡± he mysteriously said. ¡°But sparrows carry dreams like ravens carry letters. It is time for you to be abed.¡±
¡°But what does that mean?¡± She asked. Tilak rose to his feet and made away.
¡°Sleep, Ash. Hopefully the sparrows don¡¯t fear the flame.¡±
She lay in that mound of pyre lit hay for some hours to come, though the sleep she had been ordered to denied her. She lay and closed her eyes for but a moment before she... died. Warm steel warmed her throat. Cold blood stained and sullied its beauty.
Another blade made for Carolet, and he accepted it with glee. Then he didn¡¯t look like Carolet anymore. He looked like a great blue giant. He bore a sword of light and slashed apart the enemy. Then he was dead beside her.
It wasn¡¯t a blade that made off next. It was the smith. He took his hammer and smashed Ash¡¯s skull to dust. He cursed her and blamed her in words she was too dead to understand.
The sky got larger, and the stars flicked off. A spider of a thousand legs stepped across the stars and landed within the bandit camp. It slaughtered the thousands of them, but it slaughtered some part of the no-more-child who bore it.
The friend who was a foe came and did battle with the foe who was a friend. Red became blue; and gold became green. Grasses and magic turned to steel and hate. A world of war, a world burned to ash.
She saw a stalwart. A lone vanguard. It was draped in darkness, though it battled for the light behind it. She saw the thousand stars and beings of good which owed their lives to the stalwart. They all stabbed it in the back, one at a time, though it never shifted from its post. It took its place and battled its own kind, the dark kind, for an eternity without relief or thanks.
Then the sparrow came, and the dream broke.
The night was still thick. The pyre still pillared. She had only slept for a short while, though it was more than enough for tonight. She didn¡¯t jolt up. Her eyes peeled open and she lay there for a while. The hay was dry at least. It was alone in that. Her leather was slick to the touch and her hair was still soaked. She forced some great effort into standing and made for the Elder¡¯s home. Within was warm and happy. The children slept in a great pile while the injured were tended to.
¡°Sai-Weleg,¡± the smith¡¯s eldest bowed. He wore a fresh scar across his face. It made him look older than he was, though he was still her junior. Everybody unsettled when he acknowledged her. They shot silent glances at her and whispered silent questions. The air was newly uneasy within.
Ash didn¡¯t know his name, so she nodded to him and awkwardly moved through the room. She came upon the Elder¡¯s dressing room, and Miel standing outside the door.
¡°Ashtik,¡± she whispered. Miel had her arms folded over her blue apron and blood-spattered dress.
¡°Mother, you¡¯re hurt?¡± Ash asked. She lifted the apron to get a view of the blood.
¡°No, it¡¯s not my blood,¡± Miel answered. ¡°I was helping Ser Carolet with his wounds.¡±
¡°Caro was wounded?¡± Ash asked in shock.
¡°Not terribly, but the Elder wanted it set properly before infection could grip.¡±
¡°Is he inside?¡± Ash walked towards the dressing room door.
¡°Yes, but he rests,¡± Miel said, blocking her from entering. Ash stepped back from the door with a creaking step.
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ash muttered.
¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Miel said. ¡°How many have you killed?¡± The question took Ash by surprise. The casual, almost conversational tone it was asked in forced her to think it over more than once.
¡°I don¡¯t know?¡± Ash admitted, shame dripping from her words.
¡°Not with the flame; with your spear. How many did you kill?¡± Miel pushed.
¡°Five... Or six, I''m not sure. The first man this morning, and the rest in the battle.¡±
¡°Did you enjoy it?¡± Miel asked. Ice seemed to fill the room; this was a conversation Miel had planned. She had expected to have it one day.
¡°What? No, of course not,¡± Ash loudly denied.
¡°But it made you feel powerful?¡± Miel pressed.
¡°No!¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Then what did you feel? Do you know they worship you now? They think you are a godensent hero. A grand Champion. The Sparrow-knight they call you,¡± Miel said as if it was a vile accusation. ¡°Do you like their worship?¡±
¡°They won¡¯t even look at me. They don¡¯t worship me, mother, they hate me. They fear me,¡± Ash grew angry as her mother spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t need to feel worse about what has happened. What have you done? Did you fight? No, of course not.¡±
¡°How could they look at you? They think you are the Champion of Black. The harbinger of the apocalypse. Now answer me, Ashtik. How did it make you feel?¡±
¡°I felt like I had a job to do!¡± Ash shouted, unrestrained by proximity. ¡°I felt like they wanted to hurt Evara. I felt like I wanted to tear their hearts out through their mouths. They can worship me, or they can hate me. I don¡¯t care. So long as Evara is alive, I will fight. I will kill. They will burn!¡± Her seething hatred boiled. It pushed Miel back, it made her afraid.
¡°So Evara is your excuse?¡± Miel said, much quieter now.
¡°Evara is my cause. Evara is my purpose. I will bring the apocalypse if I have to. Anything to keep her safe. That''s something you wouldn¡¯t understand, isn¡¯t it? Love, undying and unebbing.¡±
¡°You think I don¡¯t love her?¡± Miel laughed in disgust.
¡°I think your daughter has just suffered the worst day of her life. I think she has just nearly died a dozen times over; and I think you are stood here, judging her from behind the walls she erected to keep you safe. I think you despise me because Evara thinks me a better mother.¡±
Miel would have taken all of her insults and all of her pleas, but she wouldn¡¯t take the truth. It struck a deep nerve and Ash knew it would. A hand flew through the air and landed with a heavy crack against Ash¡¯s cheek. Miel stood there, too indignant for words, as tears welled in her eyes.
¡°I carried you for nine months,¡± she whispered.
¡°And you gave up soon after,¡± Ash interrupted.
¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand. Something changes in you after you have a child. I was empty. I tried my best, but it was different with you. Your brother was easy, love came easy. I tried with you; I swear it,¡± she sobbed, ¡°It destroyed me every day. It got too much after you were no longer a babe, and nothing had changed. I was a monster, Ashtik.¡± Miel tore the sleeves from her dress. ¡°It drove me to madness. You drove me to madness.¡± She showed the scar on her wrist. The mark deeper than the abyss Ash wore now. ¡°I¡¯d have tried again, I¡¯d have succeeded, if it weren¡¯t for Evara. When she came, Ashtik, it was like the first time. She was so perfect from the start. I didn¡¯t hate myself every time I looked at her. She showed me I wasn¡¯t a monster, incapable of a mother¡¯s love. But you wouldn¡¯t let me love her. The two of you were inseparable. I-¡±
¡°Enough,¡± A dark voice called from behind them. Ash turned but couldn¡¯t see him through the tears she didn¡¯t realise had sprouted. Through the blur, he looked almost like he had in her memories. He seemed to stand a foot taller and thrice as broad. Tilak placed a hand on her reddened cheek, and the hunter looked down on his wife. ¡°You dare speak to her like that, Miel.¡±
¡°You knew how I felt, husband,¡± she spat through tears of her own. He didn¡¯t cry. He looked at her as he looked at a rotten carcass.
¡°I knew there was animosity. I believed you jealous of her youth, or envious that she had Evara¡¯s ear instead of you... But this? To tell your own daughter you never loved her but hours after she saves all of our lives? Miel this is cruel, monstrous. This isn¡¯t you.¡±
¡°How the fuck would you know?¡± Miel shouted. ¡°We hadn¡¯t truly met outside of the bed until this cancer caught you. I was alive before I was her mother. Now I''m just the monster who doesn¡¯t love. You were no better, husband. You never cared for Damen. Ash was always the apple of your eye, why is this any different?¡±
¡°Because I loved my son. He was a warrior, not a hunter. So, I trained him to fight and saw him proudly off to war. We shared little, but I loved him. I love him.¡±
¡°I tried! Gods know I tried to love her, but you cannot force yourself to love. Maybe the gods do know. Maybe they gave me this affliction, this... black depth within. Maybe the great Champion needed me to be like this. Maybe I was part of her plan.¡± Miel paused and nobody spoke. She dragged down breath after teary breath. ¡°Or maybe I¡¯m just broken,¡± she finally admitted.
¡°You¡¯re not broken, mother,¡± Ash breathily whispered from a thousand miles away. ¡°You love Ev and she loves you. That''s enough.¡±
¡°And Evara wouldn¡¯t love a monster,¡± Miel forced a laugh through her tears.
¡°Yes... She would,¡± Ash corrected. Her eyes fell to her gauntlet, and her mind filled with purpose. The void took form, not quite a sparrow but closer to it. She saw a beak and a wing, a limb to fly and a mouth to sing.
¡°I must speak with Carolet,¡± she said. The tears were gone and, in their place, was frightening determination. She lightly moved her mother aside and left them to their arguments.
¡°Quite the ruckus for a man in his sickbed,¡± The old warrior mocked from his sleep. He didn¡¯t raise his head and let his dreams keep their tenuous grasp over him. Ash ignored him for the moment. A basin of water sat at the far end of the room and a bronze looking glass sat above it.
She worshiped the tepid water. It¡¯s blessing purified the dirt and blood that still spattered across her face. She couldn¡¯t recognise herself when she straightened out. This mirror must have been a portal, showing some other woman in some other place. It couldn¡¯t be her. Ash didn¡¯t look so hollow. The deep purple of Ash¡¯s eyes lit every room aflame, the near black beads in this mirror couldn¡¯t be hers. Her hair was nearly red as the fields of Sunrise. The pure white her father had named her for had been lost to war. Her red leather hunting garb had been sliced, torn and burnt in a hundred different spots. Where the armour had once had an exposed midriff, it now had a chainmail guard; one that may have saved her life earlier. Her dark skin seemed pale and red. Her cheeks seemed thinner than they should. Everything was off.
¡°I don¡¯t recognise myself most days, either,¡± Caro muttered, still half asleep. She had forgotten for a moment, in her reflection, why she had come here.
¡°I need to do something,¡± Ash whispered. She couldn¡¯t bear to look at him as he lay.
¡°Something foolish?¡± Caro guessed. He shifted from his comfort to get a view of her. She could imagine what he saw standing over that basin. The monster that set his home alight. The putrid shard in her back and the deathly mark in her balled fist. The steel in her hand and the steel in her eyes. He must have seen a monster.
¡°Foolish?¡± She grunted. ¡°Probably. Sometimes it takes a fool.¡±
¡°And sometimes it doesn¡¯t,¡± Caro yawned. He sat up and came into her view. She looked into his eyes through the mirror. She realised that she hadn¡¯t done so before. He was a comely man, even for his age. His deep brown eyes were still as youthful as her own, despite the hardships they must have borne witness to. His beard had been shaved back before the battle. She assumed he had done so to fit into his helm. He was as broad of cheekbone as he was of shoulder and not nearly as gaunt as others of his age.
¡°Tell me, Ser Carolet. If you could give your life to stop this, would you?¡± She asked. She still only looked at him through the bronze reflection.
¡°What kind of question is that? Of course I would,¡± He answered almost indignantly.
¡°Then what I do is not foolish,¡± She simply laughed.
¡°A noble sacrifice? Martyrdom? Thats the extent of your capacity?¡±
¡°If it¡¯s all I''m needed for. Besides, my story doesn¡¯t end here. Some foolish god has chosen me. They won¡¯t let me die here, and they know I won¡¯t have the will to fight on if the village is destroyed.¡±
¡°Be wary, Ashtik. I¡¯ve known many men who said the gods were at their backs. All of them are dead. I promise you; your god doesn¡¯t care if you live or die. They can always choose a new Champion.¡±
¡°Sure. But they¡¯ve chose me, and that must mean something.¡±
Carolet laughed though it clearly pained him. He looked at her as she stood with her back turned. ¡°It means nothing. You haven¡¯t been claimed. You don¡¯t even know to which goden or goddess you belong. You are unprepared and quite frankly, uninteresting. The gods will not bother to watch as you kill yourself.¡±
¡°Then I will force their attention. Pray for me, old man. Pray for me as you dream.¡±
Map of the Continent
Key:
I: Duke''s crossing.
The joint city. Splitting the border between Maester Veil & Meomi. Acts at the main portal hub for the Northern isles. To it''s north, Veil Clearing, where Ashtik of Black was born and raised. The Baron''s keep to the west is where her story began.
II: Raven Keep.
Home of King Donaleaf, the Forge Champion. Created using the power of the god gear and safe haven from the Veytors.
III: Veytor''s rest.
Castle of the Veytor holy order. Leased out by Queen Vias, the Champion of steel. The Queen holds no love for the Veytor''s but tolerates the order so long as they assist in her war with the forgelands.
IV: The moving City.
The centre of the conclave is able to ''move'' around the continent using some long since forgotten magic. The city doesn''t actually move, instead the border walls are ripped through the fourth spatial dimension as to appear in the desired location.
V: Flourish.
Richest of the northern isles, though the most secluded. Often skirmishes with the Oaranians and Ishrans.
VI: Silent Hall.
Nestled within the Barric mountains. The silent hall gets it''s name from the order of dragon worshipers who built it eight-thousand years ago. The monks would sacrifice their tongues as to prevent corruption from taking them as they battled their magical afflictions.
VII: Rose Gold.
The pirate palace. Abode to the Champion of Pink, Mari. The Hall was stolen from the rose Champion some years ago and now the archipelago acts as a haven for pirates and shipwrights around the continent.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
XI: Hero''s fall.
Within the halls of Hero''s fall lies the grand necropolis. Here are the bodies of Champions past, laid to rest. When a hero of the realm passes, a vote is called with the great leaders of the continent where they decide upon the worthiness of the fallen.
XII: Ao Dici.
The city of industry. Ran by a coalition of ''beast men''. The city holds marvels of technology the rest of the world simply can''t compete with, however, some say this is at the cost of the lives and happiness of its citizens.
XIV: Tave.
The city of culture. The most populous area in the continent and filled to the brim with the folk of all kinds and races. Tave is renown for its festivals and cultural joys. The recent industrial boom of their neighbours has caused some grief, ruining the local farmland and making the nearby river unsafe to drink.
XV: Forget Hold.
Forget hold stays true to it''s name. Though its fortifications are still impressive ten thousand years after it was abandoned, nobody knows what foe it was designed to face; or if the hold was abandoned because the foe was felled.... Or for some less comforting reason. One thing is known for sure, if whatever foe could surmount the defences here still lives, it could destroy any castle and empire left on the continent.
XVI: Kovayesh.
The Crossroad kingdom. Kovayesh is a massive political player and contrils nearly all trade in the eastern sub-continent. Most interestingly, the king of Kovayesh has taken a ward; a young woman. Though nobody knows her origin, it is said she shares a striking resemblance to the blood queen, Vias, though why such a powerful woman would send her own blood across the world yet alludes these supposed tales.
XVII: Heartbeat mountain.
Marash''s heart. Stand at its base and hear the heartbeat of the world. Its not a metaphor or some poetic prose. All who make the pilgrimage to Sunrise agree that from the southernmost colossus, to the northern crater, the beat of a drum can be heard. Nobody knows why, or how, but all stand in awe; and all dread what would come the day the beat stops.
XVIII: Dwagorn rest.
A mysterious people, from a mysterious time, reside within these fittingly enigmatic halls. None have entered for generations, only a select few have left to do trade and gather information on the outside world. These pale, spindly men speak without words and look without eyes.
XIX: The Speaker''s tent.
Home of the Nomada Quitev, A nomadic group of ''elfish'' folk. A peaceful and spiritual people who roam the land and trade wonders for tales.
XX: Dawn''s reach.
The only hold of the Iben belt. Dawn''s reach has fallen into severe disrepair after the forgotten Goden cultists who founded it were disbanded by the Veytors. What secrets could this cult have held? Will this forsaken place ever be home again?
XXI: Ibenja
The grand bastion of the Champion of White. Easily the best defended fortress on the continent, if not all of Marash. Surrounded by a network of labyrinths and mazes.
Chapter Four: Stolen Sacrifice.
Dirt entombed her. It caught in her hair, her clothes, her teeth. She clawed along the half-dug tunnel in complete darkness. Even with her slim frame, half breaths were all she could draw. She felt her untreated wounds gather dirt. The thin slash at her hip parted further as the walls dragged it open. She wasn''t worried about infection. "Pack it with dirt," was time tested advice. The cause of her pain would be her shield.
She could hear them above her. Their strangely sing-song voices. The dull thumping steps as they battled the flame. The muffled cries of careless men as they got too close and caught their deaths. The march of reinforcements and the revelrous cries of far past drunken merriment. They drank on the pyres of their friends, their brothers.
Dirt settled around her as the little tunnel caved under their dancing and waring. She continued on, ignoring her rising fear. She felt the air thin as she moved along. Shapes danced in the darkness. The thousand-legged spider stepped over her. The blue giant crawled behind her. The sparrow dug ahead of her.
And then there was light.
She had found the end of the tunnel, and the first stirrings of dawn. The stars weren''t hidden here, from beneath the dirt. They shone in a vast band of liquid gold. Heaven''s belt slashed across the space between. It twinkled violet and indigo with barely a spec of empty space behind it.
She crowned arm first, then she pushed her head through. The first breath she took was raw ecstasy, then the rain collapsed the dirt onto her. The mud gave her no purchase and she slipped under again. Grit and stones snapped her nails as she clawed her way upwards. She gave no thoughts to stealth; gasping and gaping as she did. She thrust her gauntlet into the mud and finally found her leverage.
She rose, her red leather stained black by mud. Her face caked in dirt. Her hair, still bloody though now much darker. She must have looked half a shadow in this early morning light. The sunrise had yet to crest, but its sapphire crown sat on the horizon. The black of night would soon give way to the blue of dawn, and the red of day.
But her duty must be fulfilled by then.
Ash trudged through their backlines. No man saw her, or he saw six of her through his empty bottles. It seemed the toasts of the night had caught up with the bandits, though they would be ready to attack come the day. She doubted the flame would last much longer under this ever-growing rain.
They had set up a small siege camp. It wasn''t much. A hide padded tent to stop arrows from burning through. A couple of wooden chairs and amenities. It wasn''t luxury, but it was the best spot in the camp. The ''Duke'' must have been there.
She strolled past some sleeping sentry with her spear held tightly. He lay in the dirt with a wooden tankard spilt over his chest. She considered ending him while he slept, but the idea of murdering a man while he slept still gave her pause, even after all she had done that night. Ash skulked along somewhat further, unharried.
They had left their vast stain on her home. The golden grasses were burnt black, and the flowers were trampled to dirt. It was no paradise at the best of days, but it deserved better than this. She would grant it better than this with a single fell swoop.
The velvet palace with its hide roof came into reach. She found the front door, unguarded and unbarred, and simply walked in.
The quality of man that awaited within cannot be understated. His diseased flesh had been obfuscated by a pure white paste, close to makeup but not nearly as elegant. What should have been his hair could more aptly be described as a thin crown of disgrace. Closer to a scorched tuft of grass than a proud mane. His beard was different at first glance. It could almost be described as noble, until she noticed the lace behind it. The proudest part of him was attached by some adhesive. He still wore his garish pink breastplate and its green and blue striped accompaniment.
He hadn''t noticed her; so enthralled was he in the camp follower in his lap. A beautiful young woman, clearly reserved for his far from desirable touch. To her surprise, it wasn''t the Duke who spoke first, but the woman.
"Ooh, I like this one," she said. "The bold ones are always so much more fun." The woman spoke as though every word came with a kiss and a promise, though Ash had no clue what the promise could be.
"Tell me, Snowangel, are you here to kill this ''Duke''?" The woman laughed. She traced a pointed red fingernail across the man''s jaw as she asked.
"I am," Ash grimly replied. "Please step aside; you needn''t be hurt."
"My white knight! My hero, come to rescue me," the strange woman giggled. She moved to the dazed Duke''s neck and seemed to kiss it for a moment. Then she stood and, with her back turned, walked away from the pale ''Duke''. "Go ahead, I''ve had my fill."
He didn''t resist, and Ash didn''t care. She stormed up to him and thrust the tip of her spear through his heart as he just smiled at her. His glazed eyes drifted from hers over to the dark woman at the other end of the tent.
"Did I do well?" He spluttered through the pool of blood within his lungs. Ash dragged the spear back and kicked his body to the ground. He was dead. It couldn''t be that simple.
"Who are you?" Ash finally asked of the woman.
"A friend, I hope," She cheerfully answered, though she never fully faced Ash. "I have so few of them."
"What did you do to him?" Ash asked, kicking the corpse''s hand aside.
"I enthralled him. Advantage of having rather large tits, I''m afraid," the woman laughed. She seemed to wipe her face before turning from the shadows.
"He died gladly because of your... endowment?" Ash grimaced.
The woman wasn''t lying about her ''advantage''. When under the dawnlight, she was a beauty. Raven black hair and smooth milky white skin. Piercing sanguine eyes that seemed to appreciate every inch of your person. The figure of a goddess, and the proportions to match.
"Of course not, as I said; I enthralled him. He was my thrall." She smiled a dark smile through her smoky black painted lips.
"You are a magician?" Ash guessed. It was a conscious effort for Ash to maintain eye contact. She was awkward enough around most, but this woman and her eyes that seemed to contain all the flame of the pyre wall. It was too much to hold, not to mention Ash''s gaze being drawn... elsewhere. The woman seemed to notice, though she didn''t seem to mind.
"A magician? No," she laughed a laugh of silk and seduction. "I''m on the other side. The fun side."
"But you controlled this Duke, you lead these bandits? You attacked my home," Ash accused. She raised her steel and held it high.
"No," the woman whispered severely. "I came here to stop them."
"But you failed?" Ash did not lower her spear. She kept it coiled and ready to strike.
"Yes. I''m... sorry, for that at least," she sadly admitted. The woman stalked closer to Ash. She placed her chest to the tip of her spear. "But I do hope we can still be friends," she grinned again.
"Probably not," Ash plainly said, pulling her spear back to her side.
She faked a sob as she said, "And why must you break my heart, Snowangel?"
"Because you won''t even tell me your name."
"Why should I? You haven''t told me yours." She covered her mouth with her delicate hands. Five rings - all ornamental - adorned her slender fingers. A glove of sorts wrapped around her middle finger and joined her sleeve, up to her burgundy and black dress.
"I wasn''t... consorting with murderers," Ash spat.
"You aren''t yet. Give us time. I''m sure you''ll love the ''consorting,''" the dark woman winked.
"I haven''t got time for this," Ash grunted. "There are still bandits out there. Some lieutenant will take his place."
"Probably... But come on, Snowy!" The woman mockingly pled. She stroked a nail down Ash''s belly as she got much too close.
"Don''t call me Snowy," Ash snapped, flicking away the woman''s hand.
"Ooh, a sore spot. I wonder why?" She stroked her scorned hand as she circled around Ash like predator and prey. "Fine..." she finally sighed. "Since you wanna take all the mystery out of our marriage, I''ll tell you my name. A show of good faith."
"Marriage?" Ash nearly snorted.
"Arms like yours?" The woman laughed as she ran a finger along Ash''s bicep. "Girl, you''re a keeper."
Ash tried to brush the strange woman''s flirtations off, lest she break into a blush.
"So..." She stuttered. "What do they call you, then?"
She pushed Ash away lightly, though it didn''t budge the huntress. The woman stepped back a pace and smiled.
"They call me many things. Beauty, goddess, cruel bitch. Mostly they call me Tebea," Tebea said.
""Is that your name?"
"It''s what I''m called. I suppose that''s the same thing," she sighed. "But this is boring, Snowangel. Let''s go kill some bandits."
"No!" Ash protested. "I don''t trust you; for all I know Tebea means fucking... Bedbug."
"If you want me to be your bedbug, Snowangel, you need only ask."
"Besides, you''d probably slow me down. You aren''t exactly dressed for combat," Ash pushed on, doing her best to ignore her. Her eyes betrayed her at that. She looked to the black and burgundy silk that so elegantly clung to her form. The corset that held her figure. She lavished in what was exposed but more so, what wasn''t.
"Indeed, forgive the outfit. I hate dressing for men, all tits and skin. I much prefer what you''ve got on. All red leather and tattoos. Wouldn''t mind seeing how the tattoos look alone, though."
That was it, she had managed a blush. She came here with every intent of dying in some heroic battle; instead, here was some raven beauty flirting with complete ¨C and obvious ¨C intent.
"There''s so much personality in what we wear. Men like... him," she shot a disgusted glance over at the Duke''s corpse, "Don''t care about that, about the stories written in leather." She stroked a hand over Ash''s armour. "This is a new addition, isn''t it?" She asked as she tugged on her chainmail belly.
"Aye," Ash simply answered. It was all she could manage. Tebea had gotten much too close. She stood close enough to smell. Where Ash must have stank of sweat and blood, Tebea wore delicate flowers and something implacable. Ambrosia on a scent. Tebea barely seemed aware of their proximity. She seemed unfazed that her every breath caught on Ash''s neck as she stroked and pulled on every seam and corner of her leather and mail.
"Aye," Tebea mocked. "So, what was there before?"
"Nothing..." Ash whispered. It made the other woman laugh.
"You must have some killer abs if you don''t need armour," she teased, prodding a finger into the chainmail.
"I''m a huntress, not a soldier. I can''t wear metal. It rusts and clangs." Ash stepped away from the mocking woman. There was something strange in her eyes that unsettled Ash. It was hunger, raw and savage hunger. A wolf''s hunger, not a maiden''s. Given half a chance, this woman would eat her alive.
"You said you were on the other side?" Ash whispered. "Which side?"
"The monstrous side. The evil, corrupting side. The side that makes virgin sacrifices under the Bloodmoon," Tebea whispered into Ash''s ear. Never had a person had to hop up to reach Ash''s eyeline before. "What do you say, Snowangel? Do you wish to be sacrificed upon my alter?" Her serious tone broke with a gentle smile.
"You claim to be a monster?" Ashtik doubted.
"I claim to be a woman. The monster is what I am."
"If that were true, why would you tell me?"
"Because we are friends, right? I would never lie to a friend."
Her genuine plea for friendship seemed strangely innocent for this apparent monster. Ash heard no sense of bite in her tone. She wanted to believe for a moment that the hunger in her eyes was for another. That this woman wouldn''t hurt her, but Ash wasn''t so na?ve. She pushed Tebea away with a fair force and stepped back.
"Friends aren''t made in an hour," Ash said.
"But lovers are made at first sight," Tebea winked, still persistent.
"I''m sure he thought the same thing," Ash nodded to the glad corpse.
"Maybe..." Tebea admitted with something close to a sigh. "But I wanted to kill him; I want to do much worse things with you."
"You aren''t selling yourself very well." Ash took a step back from the terrifyingly persistent woman.
"Darling, I don''t need to sell anything. Everybody else begs for it."
"I''m not begging."
"Nor are you everybody else..."
She tried to close the distance, but Ash dodged away. Tebea didn''t give up her chase. She moved much too quickly. Within a blink she had darted half the length of the tent.
"You lied..." She whispered. Her eyes grew huge as she took Ash''s marked hand in her own. "You do wear metal," Tebea traced a cold finger over the warm steel. "And such a statement piece at that. That looks like some kind of Champion brand? I think it''s a high heresy to pretend to be a Champion."
"I''m not pretending to be anything," Ash grunted. She tore her gauntlet back from Tebea and took yet another step away. By this point, she had her back to the tent flaps. A cool breeze sheered her back and carried the wet of dawn on it.
"I thought friends didn''t lie to each other. There is no bird marked Champion," Tebea said darkly. Her entire posture changed at that, she closed herself in. She masked any openings. She was ready to be attacked.
"I''m not lying, and I''m not pretending to be a Champion. I don''t know what I am; but I know I''m not a monster. Now I need to leave; are you going to let me, or do I have to hurt you?" Ash readied her spear but didn''t raise it. She gripped it tightly as she subtly coiled on her back leg.
"I won''t stop you, Snowangel. Just..." Tebea''s face fell low. Her eyes fixed on Ash''s mark, though they took on a pleading look. "Can we still be friends?"
"I don''t know you, Tebea. That''s not even your real name, is it?" Ash laughed at the absurdity. "And we''ll probably never even see each other again... But fine. I''ll be your friend."
"You will? I- I- I promise we''ll see each other again! I''ll find you when you need me. I promise!" The woman was like a dog with a bone. She was pure elation. Pure joy. The fa?ade of the cool seductress was gone.
"Why do you want to be my friend so badly?" Ash had to ask.
"Because you marched into a camp of killers on your own. Because you tattooed chains to your arms. Because I think you and I will either raise hell, or raze hell. Either way, darling, I can''t wait."
She giggled, she winked, she vanished.
"What?" Ash gasped. She stood silent in the open tent, with no company but a corpse of her own glad making. Tebea had vanished before her very eyes. Not between blinks or dashed on a dark shadow. She simply wasn''t there anymore.
The men still slept, though it was well into dawn now. She walked along still unable to slaughter them in their sleep. It was disgustingly quiet now. The birds didn''t chirp in the trees. The rain gave away to hushed winds. The pyre didn''t crackle nearly as violently. She didn''t miss the screaming, though.
Her mission was complete. Ash considered returning to the village, but she knew the Lieutenants were still a threat. She tracked the deepest footprints in the dirt. One set went all the way back to the tent, it must have been the massive man with the war spike.
Ash followed along the path set out for her. It wasn''t long before she found him. He sat amongst his men like some kind of holy figure. A dozen soldiers collapsed at his feet while he sat upon a throne of meat and mead. He was awake and sharpening a small blade by his standards.
"Vehma..." He breathily whispered. It carried on the wind and hit her hard. His breath was mint and garlic in combat for dominance. It was fresh and putrid, a perfumed corpse must have lay in his belly. She didn''t hide from him. She stepped into his tent with little regard for her own life.
"Taqe ovoh?" The behemoth whispered as he saw her.
"This is your chance to live. Go," Ash said back. She drew her spear and let its tip fall to the floor. It chinked against the stone flooring.
"Aven dorot," his gravelly voice croaked.
"Will you leave?" She said as calmly as her shaking voice would allow.
"Yes," he answered. The massive man rose from his lecherous throne and plucked his spike from beneath himself. "When you are a pretty little corpse."
She dashed for his throat. He didn''t care. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and flipped her to his side. She crashed through a mound of old crates and barrels. The force stole the wind from her. She lay in the splinters for a moment gasping and gagging. She forced down half breath after half breath until she couldn''t breathe at all. The massive man wrapped his massive hands around her throat and squoze. He tore her from the boxes and lifted her a foot from the ground. He choked, and choked till there was little left to choke.
"Little girl should have stayed home," he mocked as he lifted her even higher.
"Y- You-" Ash spluttered.
"I, what?" He smiled. He loosened his grip barely enough for her to eke out a final word.
"Your breath... fucking... reeks." She rose the dirk from her boot and slashed it through his wrist. The spurt of blood blinded her for a moment, else she''d have rounded on his throat. She collapsed down and gasped again through her swollen throat. Black bruises had already made themselves present by the first ecstatic draw. The pain started quickly after; though the adrenaline kept it numb.
"Ah, davi pari!" He screamed. She worried it would be enough to wake his men, though they still seemed purely interested in their beauty sleep.
She rose and dragged a blade from a sleeping man''s sheath. It was a skinny little thing, ill fit for a grown man. It felt too small even for her admittedly meagre stature. She charged at the lieutenant while he yet reeled from his wound. She made as little noise as she could while she dashed across the little room. She bound over a sleeping soldier and thrust the blade downwards through his shoulder. It must have nicked a lung at the very least, though he didn''t seem to mind. He threw her away as he stood tall. Only the hilt of the blade remained visible as blood gushed down his randomly cobbled together chest plate.
He screeched again. Like a hawk warning its prey before striking. He barrelled towards her with a crazed wrath. He stretched his arms out to grasp her, but she danced around him. She clung to his arm as he passed by, and she rode him like a horse. The dirk fell down time and time again. It struck, and it struck, and it struck until he was a quaking mound of flesh, and she was a panting, and pained, victor.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Was victory always going to be this... messy?
She stood over his corpse and wiped the grey and red from her hands. She used the cloth from his skirts to wipe away a chunk of flesh from her armour. Then he did what fresh corpses do, and she was nearly grateful for the smell. At least it masked his foul breath.
Ash didn''t linger long. She tore back her spear and ran. She had no idea why the soldiers slept, and she didn''t care to temp their wrath any longer. The man she assumed to be the greatest of lieutenants was dead; it was time to go.
Then a horn sounded, and her belly dropped faster than his corpse had.
Caro had told her, "Thrice for blood," but this had only sounded twice. What could that mean?
She stepped over a couple more sleeping bandits as she left the tent behind. Then nature mourned again as the sound of marching men in marching order came with marching drums. They were far from her but getting nearer. It couldn''t be the bandits. She ran faster than she had ever ran before to dive into her little tunnel and crawl home.
Then the horn sounded twice again, only it was much closer. She crawled along as quickly as she could, though it felt much too slow. There was dirt in her teeth, blood was drying in her eyes and death rang in her ears; but she carried on.
The marching came over head and the dirt caved around her. The tunnel collapsed behind her and the light dimmed ahead of her; but she carried on.
The air garnered a tinge with smoke and burned her bruised throat. The corpse of the smith''s youngest son lay over the tunnel''s entrance. The clash of steel rang through her skull; so she carried on.
She charged through the Elder''s home. Blood pooled on the floor. She found the corpse of some mangled bandit splayed across his entry room. She charged through the great round door and found the field of conflict.
Six bandits remained. Twelve corpses lay. One man fought on.
"Champion!" An old voice called from afar. She didn''t notice for a moment, then realised he meant her. The Elder sat atop the roof of a far home, with the women and children in tow. "Help him! Please!" He called.
She dashed to the half dozen bandits and whirred her spear around like a typhoon. She parted them long enough to stand at the lone warrior''s side. Ser Carolet was unarmoured and seemed to hold a stolen blade in his blood-soaked hands.
"Is that your blood or theirs?" Ash asked with genuine concern.
"Probably both, child," he called back. A bandit struck at him, but he parried his strike away. He was moving too slowly, blood loss had him. She thrust out her spear at his attacker and impaled thigh. She tore it back and felt the bone snap through her spear. She slid the spear to its back pommel and span it overhead. It slammed down behind her and forced a bandit to jump back. Ash planted the spear down and vaulted atop of it. She glided through the air and landed atop of a bandit, dirk in hand.
Carolet slashed and tore away at a pair of bloodied attackers, though his movements were sluggish and weak. Despite his blatantly reduced state; Caro managed to finish the man before him while Ash harried the rest.
Ash thrust beneath Caro''s legs and managed to pin a bandit to the floor. She dropped her spear and moved to fight with her dirk. She dashed and dodged around every strike and blow the bandits could throw at her. She rolled past one man and snipped behind his knee as she went. Her leg slipped in the mud as she exited her roll. She fell near flat beneath the final bandit. He wasted no time in attacking. He raised his blade and thrusted down at her head. She barely managed to edge aside, though he caught her cheek fiercely. She wrapped her legs around his arm and squoze till she heard the oh so comforting ''snap''. The bandit coiled back in agony and caught a crossbow bolt for his trouble. A beautiful shot landed gently beneath his ribs and tore through to the other side.
Then she was alone in the field of battle. Completely alone.
"Caro!" She screamed. It was of little use. The old knight was dead in the mud. She pulled his face from a puddle and held his lifeless gaze for long enough that her adrenaline finally wore out.
"Ash..." The perfect little voice whispered from her side.
"What happened?" Ash whispered. Keeping her tone low was all she could do to keep from screaming and raving and cursing a thousand bloodlines to a thousand catastrophises.
"They came with the dawn. One of the Duke''s lieutenants led them," Evara whispered. She reached out a hand and brushed Ash''s bloody hair aside. "You''re hurt," she realised.
"What happened to the lieutenant?" Ash seethed. Her eyes welled, but there was no risk of tears falling. She wasn''t sad. She was furious. She was hateful. She would have vengeance.
"Ser Carolet defeated him... But he yet lives. We have him bound in the baker''s home," Ev answered. Ash stood at that with no further regard for Caro''s corpse. "But Ash-" Evara tried to protest, but it was too little. Ash was already on her war march.
"Where is he," she near silently demanded.
"Ashtik, you are wounded. Now is the time to be calm," the Elder protested.
"Now is the time to answer my fucking question," she said with the silent warmth of a glacier. The Elder struggled to protest but found no words for her rage.
"Sparrow," the smith whispered. "If the Elder won''t tell you, I will." He parted from his silently weeping wife with the look of a man ready to face the very hells.
"I saw your son," Ash said with pity replacing rage.
"I have no sons, Sparrow knight. These bastards saw to that."
The smith''s rage beat her own as he barged down a cellar door. Beneath lay the bandit, chained and gagged.
"All of them?" Ash sighed. She needed no response beyond the deathly look in his eyes. "Did they die well?"
"They died like boys in battle," he simply replied. They hopped into the cellar together. She dragged her spear in behind her, its blood-soaked tip left a trail of red along her tracks. The smith carried his forge hammer with obvious intent.
She knelt at the lieutenant''s side and tore his gag out. He didn''t speak, he seemed simply petrified of her.
"What''s your name?" She quietly asked. He didn''t reply, instead he tried to crawl further from her. "Answer me before I take your tongue."
"I- I''m sorry... It''s just... I''ve never met a Champion before," he stuttered.
"And you''ll never meet another," Ash sighed.
"Ca- can I be honest?" The man asked.
"You''d better be."
"Well... It''s just that... I didn''t think you''d be..." He stammered.
"Be what?"
A grin caught him. "Be such a fine piece of ass. I mean, the gods really know how to pick em''."
"Cute," Ash simply replied as her dirk removed a finger. He screamed out in pain, though it quickly fell to laughter.
"You stupid bitch!" He cackled. "When the Duke gets through that wall, he''ll save you for me."
"Is that right?" Ash smirked as she took another finger. He cried a bloody wail at that, but it quickly turned to pained laughter. "How about we play a game? An answer for an answer. I''ll start." Ash shone a bright smile, though it seemed to skip her eyes.
"Answer one: Your duke is dead. Now, for my answer-"
"Bullshit!" The prisoner interrupted. Ash shot a glance to the smith who immediately knew his role. The great hammer came down and shattered, with a master smith''s precision, each knuckle on his still whole hand.
"Speak when spoken to, darling," Ash smiled. "Now, for my answer: What is your name?"
The prisoner hesitated a moment too long and shattered another knuckle for the trouble.
"Okay, okay! Tobais! My name is Tobais, please!" The prisoner pled.
"Very well, Tobais. Where are you from?" Ash politely asked.
"I''m from- Argh!" He screamed as the smith''s hammer crushed yet another knuckle.
"Ooh, running low on those. You see, Tobias, this is an answer for an answer. I didn''t give you an answer. Can''t have you breaking the rules," Ash spoke like a different person before this prisoner. Even her voice was clearer, despite the damage to her throat. She spoke coldly and politely. She felt some twinge of sadistic pleasure at his pain, though she buried the thought too deep for concern to gather.
"So.. My truth: Your lieutenant, the big cunt with the war spike, he''s dead too," she grinned.
"I''m from duke''s crossing," Tobias sorrowfully said.
"You''re from Maester Veil too? Why would you attack your own countrymen? Your fellows, they had Tevran accents, no?" Ash considered. Tobias nearly answered but held his tongue and shot his eyes over to the smith''s hammer.
"Clever boy," Ash laughed. She had never said anything of the likes in her life. It was as if another woman spoke in her place, a darker woman. Tebea.
"Tobias, my truth is that this village calls for your blood. I believe they will have it soon enough. My question is this; who is Tebea?"
His eyes widened at this. Abject horror was all she could read.
"You really have been to the camp? You really did kill the duke..." He realised. She smirked and drew her spear.
"Aye, look here. It''s the beating heart of your Duke," she mocked as she thrust the bloody spear tip and inch from his eye. "Now, I believe I asked a question."
"Tebea... It''s Ahpic for Spider. I don''t know anything about her. She just appeared last night and tangled Duke in her web. I assumed she was just some whore, but she has powers... She can do things to your mind. A demoness, I swear it!" Tobais shook as he spoke. His eyes darted between the smith''s hammer, the cellar door and his crushed purple hands.
"Ahpic?" Ash repeated.
"The old language of Tenpi," the smith grunted.
"The sea throne?" Ash recalled.
"Aye. The other side of the world too. No reason for a Tenpic waif to come this far north, though," the smith explained. "But, Sparrow, how is this relevant?"
"Right," Ash nodded. "I''m sorry. Tobias, my truth is I''m regretting starting this game. My question is, why did I hear two horns blow this morrow?"
"I''m the horn blower. It wasn''t us," Tobias simply replied.
"Then who was it?" She pointedly asked.
Then the horn came again. Once and twice. Then came the marching, and dying. She heard the sounds of distant battle. She heard steel screaming and men begging.
Ash ran from the cellar and the smith wasn''t far behind. The battle was outside the walls though, she couldn''t see it past the final wisps of flame.
"What''s happening?" She shouted.
"The Baron! He''s here!"
Red banners marched towards the village gate. Beautiful crimson brigandine adorned men. Unified armaments and weapons of grand scale war. An army as truthfully as the word could be told. They marched in rows of four towards the village while a small spout of hundreds marched on the bandits.
Ash and the Elder made their way to the gate as the world seemed to brighten under the dawn.
"Temujin!" A jolly little man called from the forefront of the formation.
"Lord Maren!" The Elder called back as he slowly surmounted the gatehouse ladder. "It is a pleasure to see you so early."
Ash got to work on the gate coil. She spun the great oak disk and raised the gate for the Baron''s men. They flooded in at his back.
"It seems we aren''t truly needed. You dealt with them remarkably, where is ser Carolet? He is deserving of honours for this feat," the Baron chuckled as he met Ash and the Elder atop of the gatehouse. He shook the Elder''s hand and bowed to Ash but gave her little regard beyond.
"Ser Carolet gave his life in the fighting," the Elder quietly said.
"Oh... I see. One final victory for the old soldier, then," the baron bowed. "Did he die well?"
"Injured, unarmoured and unarmed, yet he still managed to take half a dozen with him," the Elder smiled painfully.
"We will see him taken care of, my friend," the baron swore.
"Thank you, my lord," the Elder bowed his head.
"Oh, don''t call me ''my lord''. I''m an up jumped sergeant with big house, no kind of lord," he smiled warmly. "And who might you be, my lady?" He asked of the blood soaked Ashtik. She stuttered for some kind of reply, but thankfully the Elder answered for her.
"This is Ashtik Sai-Weleg, called ''The Sparrow-Knight''. She led our defences," the Elder introduced.
"Ser Carolet led the defences!" Ash protested.
"Do not give a corpse your credit," the Elder sternly interrupted. "Ser Carolet committed many great deeds in his life, he doesn''t need his last to be a stolen act."
"This girl led your defences?" The Baron asked. Shock and confusion bled from his great brown eyes. "Why in the worlds would you grant her the lead?"
"Show him, Ashtik," the Elder ordered.
"But..." Ash tried to protest, but she quickly decided better under the two men''s imperious glances. She raised her left hand and exposed her black steel gauntlet to the baron.
"Aye, she has an impressive smith? What of it?" The baron said impatiently.
"Look closer, my lord," the Elder urged. He did. He took her hand into his. She sullied him with blood, but so entranced was he that he barely noticed. His eyes fixed upon her and basked in the supposed abyssal sparrow. A fateful look replaced his suspicion. Awe and something more... Reverence?
"It can''t be," the baron whispered.
"The bishop is in Duke''s crossing. If you send for her, we can have her summon a witness," the Elder suggested.
"The bishop is in my keep, Temujin," baron Maren corrected.
"Already?"
"Aye, she claimed to have Conclave business in the area," Maren confirmed. Both men turned their gazes at Ash. They didn''t say it, but their thoughts were obvious. She was this Conclave business.
Maren sighed and leant against the gatehouse arrowslit. He seemed to study the remnants of the clearing.
"Your people can''t stay here, Temujin," he finally sighed. "I''ll put my men to work on reconstruction. In the meanwhile, your people are welcome to a place in my walls."
"A generous offer, my lord. Thank you," Temujin bowed.
"Maren... Not lord," the baron corrected with a tired chuckle.
"My apologies, Baron Maren," the Elder replied. It made Ash chuckle slightly, which seemed to make the Elder silently furious. Fortunately, the baron saw the humour in the accidental jape.
"Sparrow-knight, was it?" Maren smiled. He didn''t look her in the eyes, though neither did she. His gaze was fixed on her mark, and hers; anywhere but on this stranger.
"Just Ashtik, or... Ash, my lor- Baro- Maren!" Ash stammered. He lacked the grace to stifle his laugh at her uncomfort. It brought an embarrassed blush to her, though he couldn''t tell past all the blood and dirt.
"Very well, Ashtik. Are you well enough to ride?" He asked.
"Yes," she simply replied. Her brevity caught him by surprise.
"Very well. We travel when your village is ready," he laughed.
"May I leave now?" She asked of the Elder who smiled and nodded.
She was uninterested in the rest of their conversation. She wanted away from the terrible pit in her belly that had grown larger with every word she had spoken. She passed by a dozen soldiers as they rounded up the bandit corpses. None of them paid her any mind and she was glad of it.
Evara sat over the miller''s daughter with her hands alight. She sealed some petty wound on the other girl''s calf.
"Ev," Ash simply, and awkwardly, whispered.
"Ash!" Evara bounced from the ground. She charged headfirst into Ash''s belly and held her tight enough to spurt a jet of blood from her hip wound. "You''re hurt!" Ev cried. She tore Ash''s armour up and exposed her hip to the open air. The wound had aggravated through the day. It was thrice the width it had first been and blood dried all around it.
"I''m fine," Ash lied.
"Shut up," Evara huffed. She placed her hands over the wound, only they were much too small to cover its entire width. A golden warmth shone from within and without. The flesh tried to stitch itself back together under her hands. Ash kept a close watch of Evara as she used her power. It drained her quickly. She saw sweat dripping down Evara''s brow, despite the autumnal morning air.
"Stop," Ash whispered. She wiped the sweat from her sister''s face before taking her little hands into her own.
"I can keep going," Evara breathlessly insisted.
"I know; stop anyway," Ash smiled. She stood slightly to Evara''s side and placed a steady hand on her shoulder. It was less than a moment before Ev collapsed, and Ash was ready to hold her up. She wrapped an arm around Ev''s shoulders and stroked a hand over her head. She was burning up from the exertion.
"Huh?" Ev meekly sighed.
"Morning sleepy," Ash quietly laughed.
"Argh," Ev grunted. "Did I collapse again?"
"Like a sack of beans," Ash teased. "Are you steady?"
"Yeah," Ev lied. She took back her own weight, but her legs were useless. She wobbled for a moment until practicality beat her pride and she leant back on Ash. She took a few deep breaths, then a few more. Then she rounded a fist into Ash''s arm.
"What were you thinking?" She shouted. Ash still held her steady, despite the onslaught of little punches.
"What?" Ash half laughed.
"Don''t laugh!" Ev shouted. "You could have died! You went into their camp and you didn''t even say goodbye!"
"I didn''t want to worry you," Ash said with a forced smile.
"No, you didn''t think!" Ev snapped. "What if you had died out there?"
"I didn''t die, though," Ash insisted. Her hands moved to Ev''s face but the young girl pushed them away.
"Oh, so that''s alright then!" Ev grunted. Red rage filled her cheeks and a tear welled in her eye. She looked Ash up and down, her eyes sticking to each splatter of blood and dirt. She seemed to swallow her world-shattering wrath for a moment as she gripped at her skirt. "Do you need some time, or can I be mean?" She finally whispered.
"Let it out, Ev," Ash smiled.
"Thanks," she smiled back. Her lips curled and writhed quickly into a vicious frown. "Never do something that... Fucking... imbecilic again!" She shouted. "I don''t care if you really are some fucking chosen one; if the villains don''t end you, I will. Swear it, Ash. Swear you''ll never do something that... fucking stupid again!" She demanded. Ash had to mask a giggle with a cough each time Evara made an attempt to swear. It came out so awkwardly, like the word was cumbersome on her tongue.
"I can''t promise I won''t act a fool, Ev. It''s just an inevitability. Not all of us are as measured and wizened as you," Ash teased. It only angered her sister further.
"Fine, then swear to me that you won''t kill yourself for anybody. No noble acts of self-sacrifice. No heroic deaths. Please," Ev begged.
"Deal," Ash simply replied.
"Deal?" Ev doubted.
"I swear I won''t sacrifice my life for anybody... But you of course," Ash said.
"Just like that?" Ev continued to doubt.
"I''m not a solider, Ev. I have no intention of dying. I just want to get back to being a huntress. Once the conclave says I''m not a Champion, we can move on from all this shite," Ash laughed.
"Hang on... You still don''t think you''re the champion?" Ev laughed.
"You said Champions are exemplars of single traits. Paragons of some virtue or vice. What am I a paragon of?"
Ev sighed and looked her sister over in complete disbelief. She looked at the gauntlet and must have noticed its gradual spread.
"If I had to guess," Ev laughed. "You''re the paragon of dumbassery."
Chapter Five: Rest & Refuge.
They wanted him buried. They wanted to entomb him with honours, let his corpse rot in the dark. Ser Carolet was a free rider in life. He had seen every corner of the continent. He deserved to see them again, he deserved a pyre. His old eyes may never again witness the distant seas and his hands would never stroke a mare¡¯s winter coat; but maybe his ashes could. Maybe he could claim some summer breeze and float along the world, chasing the sunset for eternity. It seemed an epilogue he would enjoy, at least more so than spending eternity in a single damp tomb.
The soldiers seemed adept at death. They took his corpse to a separate building and allowed him some measure of dignity as they prepared him for what would come next. He was nearly a different man by the time they finished. They lined up his beard and cleaned out the mornings breakfast from its matted tangles. They washed the blood and mud from his face and stitched close any unfortunate openings. There had been more than she knew. He must have been verging on the edge as she fought at his side.
It should have rained. It wasn¡¯t right for the sun to shine only after he was gone.
They erected a stone monument in his honour and lay his arms beneath it. The soldiers dug out an opening in the dirt and the villagers formed a stone and brick mausoleum around it.
Then they lay him to rest, but she didn¡¯t see. She wasn¡¯t there. Ash could mourn, or she could avenge.
She rose from the cellar with her black hand wrapped around Tobias¡¯ throat. She dragged him on his back into the town square. He spluttered and begged all the way. She¡¯d have done it silently there, had the miller¡¯s daughter not come upon them. She saw the prisoner and his morbid keeper, and the blade in her hand. The daughter ran away without a word to Ash. ¡°Elder!¡± She frantically called. ¡°Elder!¡±
The whole village would soon be upon her. She hadn¡¯t intended upon a spectacle, but she decided to wait. She tossed Tobias to the ground and rested her boot against his face.
¡°Sai-Weleg! What is this?¡± The Elder called. He limped with an uncharacteristic pace towards her.
¡°Closure,¡± She simply replied. She sheathed her dirk and drew her spear. It lay at his heart and pressed hard enough to draw a first blood. The little droplet spread across his fine silk shirt. He cried a beautiful cry and begged her absent mercy.
¡°Ashtik, stop this!¡± The Elder demanded. ¡°He may be of worth!¡±
¡°I¡¯ve interrogated him, he¡¯s not. The people call for his blood, is it not my duty to give it to them?¡± Ash said, twisting her spear slightly.
¡°This is not duty; it¡¯s cruelty! Aye, the people may call for his death and you may have to grant it, but it should be done solemnly. It should be a burden to take a life, Sai-Weleg. Even one as wicked as this,¡± the Elder pled. The others came up behind him, first the smith and his wife then all the rest.
¡°So I''m supposed to pretend I don¡¯t want to do this?¡± Ash sneered.
¡°You¡¯re supposed to try and find another way. If it is the only route, then so be it. If he knows something of value; then best be it that he lives.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± she whispered, ¡°Tobias. Earn your life with pretty little words¡±
The little runt couldn¡¯t manage a whole sentence. He stammered of hidden gold and promises of betrayals. Every word he spoke was as worthless as his life. Each breath he drew was an insult to the good man who drew no more; to the sons of the smith; to her home.
¡°He knows nothing, so we move to the other thing. Ask your people their will,¡± Ash ordered. She lapped her eyes over these men and women who she had known all her life, and who she had never been brave enough to utter a word to. Now she stood almost as a performer, cast in a pantomime, demanding their participation.
The smith spoke first, ¡°blood,¡± was his whispered vote. His wife doubled the count. Then the miller came and, ¡°blood,¡± slipped his lips too. Not a vote to the contrary came, until a little voice cast her ballot.
¡°Please,¡± she said, tears on the word. ¡°No more blood this day. Enough have died.¡± She was stood close to Ash¡¯s back. Close enough to reach a hand out and ease Ashtik¡¯s grip on her spear. She hadn¡¯t realised that she was digging it further into her victim. Any more and the vote would be redundant. Ash turned to Evara and her little tearful eyes. Had anybody cast such a vote but Evara, she¡¯d have all but ignored it. She realised that her sister¡¯s mercy weighed equally in her mind with the bloodlust of her entire village. The one contrary vote had introduced something vital into Ash¡¯s first taste of righteous fury; she had doubt.
Her fleeting certainty left her a hollow frame before this crowd. Her voice quivered with each attempted rebuttal and protest. She wanted this man dead, of that there could be no doubt, but was it right for her to kill an unarmed prisoner? Was vengeance sufficient cause for murder. It would be murder, after all. She had no excuse of battle or self-preservation. This would be optional, a choice to take a young man¡¯s life for no reason aside from whim.
The pure and holy fury of a chosen one; destroyed in an instant by a single plea.
The benevolence of her sister, the malice of her people, or some third path. The wise and experienced path.
Ash looked to the Elder. Where he had looked at her with such disgust a moment prior, now he looked at her with something else, not something kinder but something older; he looked at her with pure understanding.
¡°What is your vote, Elder?¡± Ev finally asked on Ash¡¯s behalf.
He looked at the sisters, younger first with a warmth of pride and elder next with tragic duty. Temujin couldn¡¯t as much as glance at the young man on the ground. He looked, instead, at the red sky of mid-day. A deep breath steadied him in his pre-emptive regret. ¡°Blood,¡± he finally whispered with such appalling shame.
One vote, no matter how righteous the voter, could not drown out the will of the all. Ash raised her spear high above the criminal and enacted swift justice, or whatever history would call it. Evara whimpered more than Tobias. She jolted back, but she didn¡¯t run away. Ash could see it in her eyes, there was no hatred. She didn¡¯t blame Ash. She didn¡¯t hate her, but the pity in her gaze was so much worse. That Evara looked at her like a victim, rather than the killer she truly was now, caused so much more grief. It was yet another silent scar she would bury this day.
The villagers were silent; the day doubly so. They had grown quickly accustomed to the crackle of the pyre wall. Without it, the world felt a little more barren. Her family had returned to their home for a brief while, but it had no burning walls to protect it. The bandits had pillaged everything of value and destroyed everything else. In a way, it was a blessing. They truly had no reason to stay. The journey to the baron¡¯s keep would be that much lighter without the weight of the past at their heels and on their backs.
They met with the rest of the villagers beneath the gatehouse. Through great efforts and a notable lack of grace, Ash had managed to avoid her parents and what pointless words they had prepared for her. She all but clung to Evara as they trudged along in the little crowd of fresh refugees.
¡°Sparrow!¡± She heard the baron call from ahead of the party. ¡°Come, join me!¡± He reigned in his horse and ordered a soldier to dismount his own. Ash spluttered some polite refusal, but Ev made better of her. She pushed Ash by the arm towards the horse despite her silent protests.
¡°You are welcome to ride along, young mae,¡± the baron said to Ev.
¡°Thank you, my lord,¡± Evara bowed before hopping behind Ash atop of the horse.
¡°I can get you a mount of your own, should you wish?¡±
¡°No thank you, my lord. I¡¯m afraid I''m inadept at riding, and these are war horses; I¡¯d wager they are far from gentle,¡± Ev said.
¡°I see,¡± the baron chuckled. ¡°You seem a well-spoken young mae. Might I assume, despite that, you are kin?¡±
¡°My apologies, my lord. I haven¡¯t introduced myself,¡± Ev said with a beaming smile. ¡°I am Evara, Ashtik¡¯s younger sister.¡±
¡°You are unnamed?¡± He asked as though it were a shock.
¡°For now, yes,¡± she admitted. Ash could see her masking indignation. Her naming was still a sore spot, though it ought not to be. Ash was only named at her seventeenth summer, Evara was yet to see her fifteenth.
¡°I see it now, Evara the wise and graceful,¡± the baron smiled, unaware of his accidental offence.
Ev faked a laugh as she said, ¡°you are too kind, my lord.¡±
¡°I believe my wife will thoroughly enjoy your company, young Evara. Alas, I must make my business with your sister,¡± he said. Ev simply bowed her head and subtly stroked Ash¡¯s back.
¡°Sparrow-knight, when we arrive at the keep, I will have you placed in my guest halls. As soon as you are freshened and dressed, I will introduce you to the bishop. There are certain courtesies that will be required of you when you meet her, but my steward will instruct you in this. She will determine what that mark means, and we will act accordingly,¡± he said much less formally than he had to Evara.
¡°In your guest hall?¡± Ash repeated.
¡°Aye, you¡¯ll be my guest while you stay at the keep regardless of the bishop¡¯s declaration.¡±
¡°The villagers?¡±
¡°Will be given appropriate accommodation within the walls. A temporary refugee camp by all likelihood. It will not be so dire as it sounds.¡±
¡°I cannot, Ser Maren,¡± Ash simply replied.
¡°You cannot?¡± He repeated in annoyed disbelief.
¡°I believe what she means... My lord,¡± Ev interrupted, ¡°is that it would be improper for her to lie in luxury while her fellows from the clearing live in squalor.¡± Ash nodded in approval.
¡°Tough,¡± the baron simply replied in a stern tone.
¡°But the Elder, at least-¡± Ash tried to protest.
¡°-Temujin will be placed in an appropriate apartment as befitting his age and station,¡± Maren interrupted. ¡°I have room enough for your entire family to stay as well.¡±
¡°I-¡± Ash tried to refuse, but Ev sent a silent dig into her ribs.
¡°-She would be honoured to accept, my generous lord,¡± Evara answered in her place.
¡°Good,¡± Maren grunted. ¡°You are a hero, Sparrow-knight. Be you a Champion or no; there will be a place for you at my court.¡±
¡°I burnt men alive,¡± Ash quietly replied.
¡°Then you understand war. Carolet was a good man, good men die in the dirt. People like us, Sparrow; people like us forge empires.¡±
They trod on for a time. Evara and Maren swapped polite tales and small laughs. Ash focused on her horse instead of them. It was a strong mare, but one that had seen too many battles. It stepped too cautiously; her eyes scanned every little disturbance. She never had a name, but she had been branded as a youngling. A searing iron pressed her fur and left a brown bolt on her rump.
¡°Ash,¡± Evara whispered in her ear. She startled and looked to the baron.
¡°I don¡¯t mean to pull you from your ponderance,¡± Maren laughed, ¡°I only ask if you are much for the drink?¡±
¡°No,¡± Was answer enough till Ev nudged her to elaborate. ¡°It makes me dizzy.¡±
¡°Ah, a featherbelly!¡± Maren cackled. ¡°A week in my keep and I''ll have you drowning bears in your cups.¡±
Ash managed a smile and mercifully Evara took back the conversation. Her sister seemed born for nobility. She spoke and laughed with the grace and curtesy of a princess. So opposite where they, yet so completely did Ash adore her.
They trotted through the mud for a while longer before yet another hairy little man dragged her attention. This time it was a friend. Vamet trudged alongside her, his hand cart in tow.
¡°White hair! Ashtik!¡± He called out. He drew the attention of all around and a soldier even blocked his route from the baron.
¡°Vamet?¡± Ash called back.
¡°Might I beg a moment?¡± He asked. The soldier looked to his liege who simply shrugged him away.
¡°Of course,¡± Ash said. He slipped on a patch of mud but managed to catch himself. Vamet ran to her left side and smiled a salesman¡¯s smile.
¡°Evara, such a pleasure! To you too, my lord!¡±
¡°Hello, Vamet. I hadn¡¯t realised you were in the area,¡± Evara nodded.
¡°Vamet helped rally some of the women during the attack,¡± Ash explained.
¡°Yet you did not call upon me?¡± Ev said, bristling. It uneased the little man, though his smile didn¡¯t wane.
¡°It is just,¡± he coughed. ¡°Well, where I am from; we do not allow children to fight. It seemed improper to ask you to take up arms.¡±
¡°So it would have been more proper to die in my bed?¡± Ev snipped.
¡°This is a false dichotomy. I am sorry for the taken offence but not for the taken actions,¡± he said with a strained meekness. Evara simply grunted him away.
¡°Ashtik,¡± he said in his strange way. Vamet made a performance of bristling the wisps of hair that could generously be described as a moustache. His strange velvet garb caught every speck of mud as he trudged along. ¡°I owe you payment, my lady,¡± he finally panted.
¡°Payment?¡± Ash questioned. His smile lessened, but somehow seemed much greater for it.
¡°Indeed. For services rendered.¡± He said as if it was final.
¡°I have done no service for you.¡±
¡°Nae, but you have! I contracted you to dismantle the bandits that did violence upon me.¡±
"I seem to remember denying that job.¡±
¡°And yet the services were rendered, and compensation mustn''t be forsworn!¡± He drew out a rubber sack from his cart and fumbled within for a moment. He was very delicate with it, whatever lay within must have been his most valued possessions.
A moment passed and a click sounded from within, then a wicked simper reached his plump lips.
¡°Here we are. Payment, as agreed upon.¡±
He held, in his well-manicured hands, a small black leather-bound tome. The edges, gilded in faux ruby. A strange device lay on the side. It was the ¡®scrawler¡¯ he had shown her in the eternity before all of this had happened. She had forgotten all about it.
Vamet held it in a velvet sheet, allowing only Evara to touch it. He handed it to her with the care of a mother handing away her babe for the first time. Evara took it with more curiosity than care. ¡°A tome?¡± She whispered.
¡°Indeed. One of your own whims.¡±
¡°My own whims?¡± She opened the tome and saw the blank parchment within.
¡°Take the scrawler,¡± Vamet urged.
¡°This?¡± Evara asked as she took up the strange metal tube. She shrieked in pain as her soft hand came upon it. Her handprint stained in red against the golden shaft. ¡°Ow?¡± She annoyedly grunted, shooting a miffed glance to the little salesman.
¡°Try it,¡± he excitedly urged.
¡°Is it going to do that again?¡±
¡°No,¡± he chuckled, ¡°it is simply the magics learning your touch.¡±
¡°Magics?¡± Ev repeated, annoyance giving way to awe in an instant.
¡°Simple magics, but used in a new way.¡±
Evara¡¯s first instinct came to the page. The first word written in her long and awful tale. The genesis of what would be. The alpha to the inevitable omega. She wrote, ¡°Vamet¡¯s got a big nose,¡± and so, her tale began.
She looked at the red scratchings settle within the page. It wasn¡¯t ink, more so the page itself bled at the metal quill¡¯s incisions. ¡°What am I supposed to write?¡±
¡°I am sure you will have tales a-plenty to tell in the coming years, young white-hair,¡± Vamet bowed away from the riding trio and disappeared into the marching refugees.
¡°Odd fellow,¡± Maren said, somewhat too loudly to be mannerly.
It was a silent day beyond that. Maren had the grace to allow Ash her silence, and Evara was much too engrossed in her new tome to allow for appropriate conversation. It seemed she¡¯d fill it before they even arrived at the keep, but the pages just kept turning, almost without end.
They made camp for the night, and made off with the dawn. It was blatant some dread held the minds, and tongues, of each villager as they marched and slept. The soldiers held no such monsters within. The sounds of their drunken merriment and raucous revelry permeated the great nameless forest. The baron made occasional appearances to Ash and Evara, but more so out of propriety than genuine interest.
All-in-all, it wasn¡¯t a terribly interesting journey. Ash made away from the group to make an attempt at hunting, but it seemed all the local game had fled once the army marched. Still, she managed a pair of great hares and gave them off to the Elder.
There was such a beauty within the woods. The stars twinkled delicately through the lilac canopy at night. The sun scorched the scarlet sky through the day, and a gentle rain carried on the wind. It was the third day of travel before Ash fully returned to the little horde. She spent it as she always had, clinging close to her little sister and avoiding all others.
¡°What are you writing?¡± Ash finally asked of Evara.
¡°Should I die this day or the next, my final words shall no longer be spoken to man and friend; but to whispered to wind and legend within these pages,¡± Evara recited aloud as she scrawled the words across the page. She wrote frantically, almost fevered. She wrote with no regard for legibility. It was as though the words spewed faster from her mind than her hand could manage. She captured each one with reverence before they could be lost to memory.
¡°That¡¯s...¡± Ash hesitated, ¡°dark. Are you thinking about death?¡±
¡°How could I not?¡± Ev scoffed.
¡°You aren¡¯t going to die, Ev. I won¡¯t let that happen,¡± Ash placed a hand on Evara¡¯s shoulder as she spoke.
¡°You know how these things go, Ash. All the old stories. Heroes and prophesies. The only time you hear about the hero¡¯s little sister is when she¡¯s killed off by the bad guy."
¡°Well, then. Lucky for us,¡± Ash pointed a finger towards the tome with a slight smile, ¡°you¡¯re the one writing this tale. So give us a happy ending, ay?¡±
Ev managed a chuckle, though it seemed to go a thousand yards from her lips and her gaze joined along soon after.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
The baron¡¯s hold was no grand castle as she had expected. Instead, it was a simple motte and bailey with a brick manor in place of a keep. A series of wooden walls ¨C not all that much more grandiose than the clearing¡¯s own ¨C lined the area surrounding. The manor sat atop of a steep, muddy hill; while the area at the bottom held soldier¡¯s apartments and some farm huts. It seemed the hold was a singularly militaristic domain, relying entirely on tithe and tax to maintain and sustain. There were a few animals scattered about aside from the war horses roaming the fields. Mostly small stock, chickens and rambents. Quick to kill for feasts, and judging by the blatant culling, a feast was well in the makings. The refugees made their way into the lower walls and settled their shoulder mounted homes in the crimson grasses.
¡°Sparrow, if you would,¡± Maren beckoned as Ash made her way through the gates.
¡°I must find my family,¡± she replied.
¡°Of course. I¡¯ll await you by the inner gate.¡±
They waded through the burgeoning camp. The villagers helped one another set up tents and flames while some wives set to a communal kettle. The children seemed unbothered at the loss of their homes and went about playing in the mud. She passed the miller¡¯s daughter ¨C who shot a lethal glance at the sisters ¨C before coming upon Tilak and Miel. Her mother sat on a stump as she stitched up a torn cloth and Tilak pretended not to be exhausted as he chopped wood for the communal fire.
¡°Snowy!¡± Tilak called as his eyes set upon her. He lodged the axe in a stump and trudged towards her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for everything that was said, truly. I¡¯m just glad you''re okay.¡± He didn¡¯t mask the tears, nor the worry. He pulled her into his shockingly vicelike grip and ran a hand over her head.
¡°I¡¯m fine, dad,¡± Ash grunted through his suffocating chest. She felt one arm lift from her and expected freedom but instead found Evara had joined the embrace. Tilak held them both in a quaking hug for a moment while her mother continued her stitches.
¡°You shouldn¡¯t be working, dad,¡± Ev whispered.
¡°Nonsense,¡± He scoffed. The three parted slowly and Ash saw the mound of split logs Tilak had made his way through. It couldn¡¯t have been more than an hour since he arrived, yet he had done a day''s work already.
¡°It''s not good for you, tell him mum!¡± Ev grumbled.
¡°He¡¯s made up his mind darling, there''s nothing to be done,¡± Miel warmly answered.
¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Ash interrupted, putting her back to Miel. ¡°You aren¡¯t staying here.¡±
¡°What do you mean?¡± Tilak asked.
¡°The baron has assigned quarters for us all in his manor,¡± Ev gleefully told them.
¡°For everyone?¡± Tilak questioned. He didn¡¯t seem keen on the idea; Ash knew the feeling well.
¡°No,¡± Ash curtly answered. ¡°Just us and the Elder.¡± The two shared a look that said more than enough. ¡°Don¡¯t make me go alone.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Tilak whispered. He stroked a hand over Evara¡¯s head and smiled. ¡°You won¡¯t be alone, though.¡±
¡°Why can¡¯t you? You¡¯re too sick to stay here!¡± Ev insisted.
¡°We can¡¯t live in some royal manor while our friends rot in this camp. I¡¯d be a burden up there, but I can be helpful here,¡± Tilak said. Ev looked helplessly between Ash and Miel in hopes that one of them would back her up.
¡°But... Winter is near, you could die,¡± Ev whimpered.
¡°I face the same risk as all our friends, our neighbours. It is my place,¡± was Tilak¡¯s final word.
¡°And mine is at his side,¡± Miel added. ¡°Your place is up there.¡± She knelt before Evara and pointed up to the manor. ¡°Be greater. Face destiny, my beloved.¡±
Evara¡¯s little eyes seemed to grow ten times larger. She welled up but didn¡¯t let loose. Miel turned the little girl around and urged her forth, helping her take the first step away. ¡°We¡¯ll be okay,¡± Miel promised and with it she gave Ev a final little push.
Evara didn¡¯t wait beyond that. She marched off alone towards the gatehouse. Ash knew she didn¡¯t want anyone to see her cry, and that was about the only reason she didn¡¯t turn back to look at them.
¡°And Ash...tik,¡± Miel stuttered but was cutoff.
¡°I know, I¡¯ll take care of her,¡± Ash near silently said.
¡°No, it¡¯s - I know you will ¨C but I...¡± She stammered before collecting herself.
¡°Ashtik, what I said,¡± Miel began, looking deep into Ash¡¯s cold eyes, ¡°If I didn¡¯t love you; it wouldn¡¯t hurt this terribly every time you looked at me like that.¡± She drew a shaky breath. ¡°You... Take care of yourself, Champion. It''s a bigger world than you know, and people aren¡¯t always as good as you are.¡±
Ash didn¡¯t even look at her. She placed a hand against Tilak¡¯s gaunt cheek and said, ¡°be well, dad. If I am Champion, I''ll have the conclave find some way to help you, I swear.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, Snowy,¡± he winked. ¡°Plenty of life left in these old bones. I¡¯ll outlive the lotta ¡®ya.¡±
She smiled and stepped away with her back turned to the two.
¡°Miel,¡± Ash slowly whispered. ¡°Take care of him.¡±
¡°Snowy...¡± Miel tearfully pled.
¡°Ashtik,¡± Ash sharply spat. ¡°You call me ¡®Ashtik¡¯.¡±
With that she left and had no idea when she would see her parents again.
¡°Sparrow, at last!¡± Maren sighed with outstretched arms. She bowed her head in apology and wrapped an arm around Evara¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Just the two of you after all?¡±
¡°Yes, ser Maren. I¡¯m afraid so,¡± Ev answered in Ash¡¯s place. He sighed again and looked to Ash.
¡°Sparrow... Ashtik, you cannot have her speak for you when you meet the bishop. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re just going to have to grow some balls, if you¡¯ll pardon the expression,¡± Maren said about as kindly as a grizzled old sergeant could.
¡°I know,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°Will I be alone with the bishop?¡±
¡°If she summons a witness, then aye.¡±
¡°A witness?¡±
¡°She¡¯ll explain if it comes to that. Come now, let us feast you!¡± He said, taking a jolly tone.
They crossed the rope bridge up to the manor. It was a thin path, suspended much too high and angled much too steeply. It was more so a ladder than pathway, but once she reached the top it seemed worthwhile. The manor was beautiful. Not in the Maester Veil style, instead it stood several storeys tall and seemed to be made of some strange cast rock. Black beams of wood separated each floor and crossed the walls at equal distances. The topmost floor was made of many white bricks instead of the single constant red cast beneath. Where windows would have gone, arrow slits sat ready for attack. Sentries and guards patrolled the grasses that surrounded the vast manor.
¡°Welcome to my humble home,¡± Maren called as he ushered the sisters inward. For once, it was Evara who clung to Ash. She still spoke as confidently and lady-like as ever, despite all but clinging to Ash¡¯s arm.
¡°Thank you, baron,¡± Ev said, ¡°It is an honour to be taken in like this.¡±
¡°The honour is mine, mae. Tales shall be told that it was within my halls that the Sparrow-knight was declared Champion! The day shall be marked in legend.¡±
¡°You seem convinced that I am a Champion,¡± Ash snickered in doubt.
¡°It takes an extraordinary man to do what you did, triply so for a young woman! If you aren¡¯t a Champion, you bloody well should be,¡± Maren said with a strange pride.
¡°Well that¡¯s...¡± Evara struggled to find the apt word for her host. ¡°Interesting,¡± she finally elected to say through gritted teeth. Ash simply snorted at the remark and moved past the conversation.
¡°Hello there!¡± An older woman called out from the entryway. She was as plump as the baron, though nearly twice as tall. Her frazzled grey hair bounced around wildly as she stepped down to greet the party. Maren hopped onto the balls of his feet and planted a kiss on her cheek.
¡°Allow me to introduce my beautiful bride, the Lady Meg,¡± Maren said joyfully.
¡°Hello dears,¡± Meg said. Evara curtsied in her bloodied skirt to the lady.
¡°My lady, it is an honour to meet you.¡±
¡°Oh, I like this one,¡± Meg chuckled as she stroked a bit of dirt from Ev¡¯s shoulder.
¡°I said you would,¡± Maren laughed. ¡°Here is our guest of honour.¡± He raised a hand to Ash who seemed like a mouse caught in the eyes of a snake. She stood stark still unsure of how to act.
¡°I-¡± was all she could eek.
¡°This is Ashtik, she¡¯ll yap your ear off as you can tell,¡± Maren jested.
¡°Was she... injured in the fighting?¡± Meg slowly questioned.
¡°No, I think she¡¯s just terribly shy,¡± he lightly answered.
¡°I-¡± Ash took a breath and tried again. ¡°Sorry, lady. I¡¯m Ashtik Sai-Weleg.¡±
Evara smacked Ash¡¯s leg at that. ¡°My lady,¡± Ev corrected in a hush.
¡°Yes, m-my lady,¡± Ash repeated.
The Lady Meg looked Ash up and down with an appraising glance. She huffed in what could have been good humour, or sincere displeasure.
¡°You are to be our honoured guest then, good Ashtik. We must have you bathed before the feast! Please, make use of all our facilities. Our steward will see to your every need,¡± she finally said with a warm smile. A surprisingly well muscled man appeared from behind her. He stood tall and straight with barely an expression on his hairless face.
¡°My ladies, my name is Jekib. If you would please follow me,¡± he politely said in a gravelly voice better fit for a soldier than usher. Ash figured that this Jekib must have been the steward and followed along behind without a word. Ev made polite farewells to Meg & Maren before skipping along behind Ash.
A pair of well-equipped soldiers opened the great oak doors for them. Within, the manor was the definition of opulence. The gold pine struts that held the roof aloft were each adorned with their own masterpiece. Some held paintings as tall as Ash, some held weapons of ancient and intricate designs. Most were simply painted with all the stripes of the brightest gems. A stark contrast to the red, white and black exterior.
¡°Excuse me,¡± Ev whispered to the dark-skinned steward, ¡°Might it be ser Jekib, or some other rank?¡±
¡°No, my lady. Jekib will suffice,¡± he sternly replied with cold civility.
¡°And simply ¡®Ev¡¯ will suffice for me. You seem well made for a steward,¡± Evara said as she scanned over the man¡¯s back. He clearly shaved his head daily, and kept his beard perfectly pruned. He hid scars beneath silk, though he did walk with a whisp of a limp.
¡°Thank you, lady Ev,¡± he said back with the same cold civility.
¡°Were you a soldier?¡± She asked as they passed a pair of steel plated statues in an ancient style. Her eyes never fell from his broad build.
¡°Indeed, likely before your birth.¡± He beckoned to a hallway and waited for the sisters to pass him by.
¡°You don¡¯t seem so old as to have retired so long ago,¡± Ev said with the intention to flatter.
¡°A soldier retires young, or dies young. I did neither. My retirement was in my thirty-second summer; this is my forty-third,¡± Jekib said. He seemed completely unaware of any attempts at compliments.
They wound along the red velvet carpet until they came upon a great, green painted door.
¡°This is the women¡¯s guest halls,¡± he said. ¡°I may not pass this point. Choose any quarter within, and the maids shall prepare them for you.¡±
¡°The bishop?¡± Ash finally spoke.
¡°Shall see you during the feast at sunset. I will explain your courtesies beforehand, as to avoid any offences,¡± Jekib answered with the same monotonous drone.
¡°Thank you, Jekib. You keep a lovely home,¡± Evara bowed as Ash opened the great door behind her. Jekib simply nodded his head and marched away. Ev watched him leave until he finally rounded a corner, and she made her way within the wing.
¡°Ooh, you¡¯re so well made Jekib,¡± Ash teased as soon as the door sealed them within the women¡¯s wing. ¡°Might I call you Jekib, or rather might I call you on the morrow?¡± She continued in a cruelly mocking tone.
¡°What?¡± Ev grunted, her face turning half to laughter; half to offence. ¡°One of us have to be polite at least,¡± she sneered.
¡°Polite, is that what we¡¯re calling it?¡± Ash laughed. ¡°Come on Ev, he¡¯s ten times your age. It¡¯s grotesque.¡±
¡°I was just being polite!¡± Ev nearly shouted, her voice taking an impossibly high pitch. Ash simply shook her head at the younger before moving on with a disappointed sigh.
The rooms chosen were just as ostentatious as the rest of the manor. Ash¡¯s chosen chamber had a balcony of its own that overlooked the vast lands under the baron¡¯s dominion. In the centre of the room was a feathered bed, with two dozen cushions and as many pillows at its head. Red silk curtains draped delicately across the black spruce bed frame and sheets of purple satin covered the mattress. A breeze tore through the room, but the massive hearth would easily beat it away if desired.
Ev made away for her own chamber; no doubt it was just as regal as her own. She heard the younger close the door directly opposite from Ash and claim that room to be her own.
¡°M- My lady,¡± a timid voice called from the entry. Ash assumed for half a heartbeat, that the voice was directed to some passing noble in the corridor but quickly found otherwise. At the threshold of her room, a beautiful young woman stood with her head bowed deeply towards Ash. She stood, almost shaking, as she awaited Ash¡¯s response.
¡°Hello?¡± Ash curiously said from across the room. The stranger took it as permission to enter and moved towards Ash.
¡°Hello, my lady. My name is Kat,¡± the stranger timidly said.
¡°Ashtik,¡± Ash hesitantly replied.
¡°Yes, of course,¡± Kat smiled, though she didn¡¯t raise her head from the ground.
¡°Can I help you?¡±
¡°Oh- No... My lady!¡± She sputtered. ¡°Tis¡¯ my job to help you.¡±
¡°Help me? With what?¡± Ash chuckled.
¡°I am to dress you, bathe you, and ensure your comfort. I am to be your handmaid, my lady,¡± Kat explained, finally raising her eyes to Ash for a brief moment. She didn¡¯t reach Ash¡¯s eyes, instead fixating on the blood and mud that caked her armour.
¡°I¡¯m supposed to be comfortable while you bathe me?¡± Ash awkwardly scoffed.
¡°If it is desired.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not.¡±
¡°Of course, but you ought to bathe before you sully the sheets... my lady.¡±
Ash felt it true as she caught a whiff of her armour, and the viscera that stained it.
¡°Very well,¡± Ash laughed, ¡°I¡¯ll make for the river soon then.¡±
¡°The... River?¡± Kat whispered. ¡°M-my lady, you are welcome to make use of the bathhouse.¡±
¡°The what?¡± Ash dumbly asked.
¡°The... Bathhouse, where we keep the baths. It is much more pleasant than a river, I promise you.¡± Kat almost managed a smile as she spoke, thought the strange fear of Ash still gripped her.
The bathhouse was the one luxury in this manor Ash was truly pleased with. The warmth of the water, the smells of the soaps. She could have spent her entire life in the knee-high pool, simply floating in the aroma of lavender and steam. Then a group of women arrived, and her peace was shattered in an instant. They entered with a fleet of maids at their tails as they gossiped on the intricacies of manorly life. They paid Ash mercifully little mind as they lay in the communal bath ahead of her. She simply tried to ignore them and continue with her peaceful meditations.
¡°Girl!¡± One of the women called out after a moment. Ash made no attempt to respond, though it was clear the woman meant to signal her. ¡°I said, girl!¡± The woman called again. The woman might have spoken in a pleasant tone, had it not so quickly soured Ash¡¯s peace. She peeled her eyes open and looked over to the greying noble woman.
¡°Aye?¡± Ash sighed.
¡°You¡¯d make better use of the baths if you removed your armour,¡± the woman laughed.
Ash had no clue what the old bag was talking about. She was laying there wearing only her tattoos and pride, her armour had probably been burnt in the gardens by the way Kat had reacted upon being passed the blood-soaked leathers.
¡°Huh?¡± Ash grunted. She followed the gaze of the noble woman to her left hand. She had rested it against the marble floor above the bath and realised in an instant what the woman spoke of. Her black steel gauntlet truly deserved the name now. It consumed her entire hand, from nails to wrist in ornate steel. Shards of deep purple steel jutted from each knuckle as to add a cut to each punch. There were no rivets, nor seams. It was a solid piece of steel that was somehow as flexible and lightweight as the flesh beneath it. She had all but forgotten it was there, despite how much it had grown since she last noticed it. The was no visible skin beneath it, only a black abyssal mark lying in her palm where the steel had refused to spread.
She made a half-hearted attempt to remove to gauntlet, though she already knew it wouldn¡¯t budge.
¡°I¡¯d rather keep it on,¡± Ash said with an embarrassed blush.
¡°Oh,¡± The woman snorted, ¡°it seems a strange kind of modesty, but you do you darling.¡±
Chapter Six: Banquets & Bishops.
The black of her lips dripped red with her promise fulfilled. There was a welcomed violence in the way she traced her nail across Ash¡¯s bare belly. A threat that she might plunge it down like a dagger, but simply chose not to. She tore the satin sheets in half and let the biting wind have a taste of her before her own feast would begin. The carnal glances; the sinful thoughts; and now, the divine action. Ash ran a hand through the raven silk that flowed from her head as it mixed amongst the ashen strands of her own hair. She tasted the cherry wine on her lips as the smell of sweat and passion coursed through the room. She nearly pled as the kiss parted but sank to her groaning pleasure as the other stalked down her neck.
Then she was gone, and the shadows made for cruel consolation.
The hearth at her feet lit at a mere glance, and a man stood over it. ¡°Are you dead?¡± He asked as he looked into the flame. The twin moons lit his back and the thousand blades that nestled within it.
¡°Not yet.¡± Ash answered as she rose from her satin slumber to face the velvet darkness. She wore a steel gown and bladed crown and crossed the room to his side. Every movement she made was wrong, and Ash knew it. She should have tread more lightly. Instead, she stood as though the stones beneath her ought to be honoured to be trod upon. She was no huntress here; but a queen, an empress, a goddess. She deserved worship and tithe as she floated to the warmth of the open flame. This was not Ashtik, this could not be Ashtik.
Above the hearth¡¯s mantle lay a quicksilver mirror. It made a foe of her in an instant. Within held no reflection, but a mockery of the woman. She stood, firelit, looking at a woman ten winters elder than she had been in the daylight. It was no trick of the night, Ash had truly blinked away the decade. The purple of her eyes marked not the unsteady glances of Ashtik Sai-Weleg, but the imperious gaze of some dark Champion.
¡°If not a corpse,¡± the man whispered through his blonde stubble, ¡°then what?¡±
There was no consideration. Ash really had no idea, but the woman in the mirror knew. She answered without hesitation and spoke with an agony of pride.
¡°A victor,¡± she answered.
¡°You stole the stars, Ashtik,¡± a perfect little voice whispered from a woman grown. Her little steel eyes weren¡¯t welled with tears, but rage.
¡°I did my duty,¡± Ash replied.
¡°This is not duty,¡± the steel eyed warrior seethed, ¡°this is revenge.¡±
Then the room was gone, and the blue giant stood at her side. ¡°She¡¯ll betray you,¡± he whispered with sorrow in his heart.
¡°She¡¯ll do the right thing, like always,¡± Ash coldly replied.
¡°And you¡¯ll stop her?¡±
¡°No,¡± Ash whispered, ¡°I¡¯ll do what I always do. I¡¯ll love her till it kills me.¡± It was her words, in her voice, that parted her lips; yet there was nothing of the girl here.
¡°You are a good woman, Ashtik,¡± the gentle giant beamed until the hearth bound to his cloak and wrapped him in flame. He stood before her as his armour melted inward, then there was no flesh but the steel flesh that war had allowed him. She found that no man existed beneath the armour, that before her stood a hollow shell of a walking dead soldier.
¡°No, I¡¯m not a good woman.¡± Her terrible gaze climbed to the mocking mirror. Again, what lay within was not who stood before. Within was the girl, nineteen and fragile. She crumbled beneath the queen¡¯s imperious glare, but the two knew each other in that moment and the girl could see the death that lay in her days to come. ¡°But you will be a great one.¡±
The giant burnt to ash and consumed the room around her. Then she was alone in the terrible white void yet again.
¡°I remember this,¡± the girl muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve been here before, haven¡¯t I?¡± She focused her eyes on the infinite distance but found nothing to affix herself to.
¡°Is it you?¡± She asked of the barren nothingness. ¡°Are you my god?¡±
Her breath quickened as time seemed to slow. She tried to run towards a voice she couldn¡¯t hear, but have you ever ran in a dream?
¡°It¡¯s like wading through water,¡± Ash answered. ¡°I answered your question, so answer mine. Did you choose me?¡±
No.
¡°You answered?¡± She laughed. ¡°If you aren¡¯t my patron, then who?¡±
She asked the question, though the answers were obvious. She asked the empty cosmos to assign her some grand purpose. She hoped some easy answer would come; but dreams lie when dreamers lie too long.
¡°Just tell me who my god is, or who the giant is. Anything, please!¡± She begged of the apathetic void, but now was not the time for answers. Now was the time to wake up.
¡°Wake up?¡±
Wake up, Ash.
¡°Please, answer me! Who are you?¡±
¡°Wake up, Ash,¡± Ev repeated. She stroked a gentle hand across her sister¡¯s face and wiped a layer of sweat from her soft skin. Ash startled a little, but didn¡¯t rise with any great effort. She lay in her bed, more confused than scared as something played on her mind.
The void.
¡°Ev, quick,¡± Ash said in a panicked jolt. ¡°There was a void, and a voice. H-He spoke. I can¡¯t remember what he said. It was...¡± She struggled visibly to recall the dream as the memory of it seemed to lift from her mind. ¡°The spider?¡± Ash finally guessed.
¡°Spider? Did you have a nightmare?¡±
Ashtik recalled the spider, her long beautiful legs. Her smoky lips, stained red. Her kiss and her bite. It was certainly not a nightmare, and the immediate hot flush reminded her as much.
¡°I- no,¡± Ash sputtered as an embarrassed blush filled her cheeks. ¡°Just... Forget about it. It was just a dream.¡±
¡°Are you sure?¡± Ev sat on the bed next to her sister and placed a hand to her head. ¡°You¡¯re burning up, Ash. Are you fevered?¡±
¡°No,¡± Ash falsely smiled. ¡°It¡¯s just warm in here. Anyway, did you need something from me?¡±
Ev looked down on her elder sister as she lay bundled beneath her sheets as to escape the obvious autumn chill. ¡°Right... The feast is at midday. You need to dress.¡±
¡°Midday? Is the hour so late already?¡± Ash gasped.
¡°Aye, we broke our fast half a day ago but thought it best to let you rest. It¡¯s a big day after all,¡± Ev grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be ravenous by the time of the feast.¡±
¡°Aye,¡± Ash sighed, falling into her pillows with her hands covering her eyes. She¡¯d have fallen back into her slumber, but for the cold steel of her left hand sending a shock through her system and rousing her in an instant.
¡°Still not used to it?¡± Ev giggled. She took the marked hand into her own and traced a finger along the ridged and intricate steel design. Ash could feel the warmth of her hand through the armour, as though the metal itself could adored her touch.
¡°It keeps growing,¡± Ash groaned. She sat up with her hand resting in Evara¡¯s lap.
¡°I noticed,¡± Ev forced a smile, ¡°I wonder how long it¡¯ll stay a gauntlet.¡±
¡°You think it will cover more of me?¡±
¡°Surely not?¡± Ev lied. ¡°You can¡¯t take it off. If it grows into a pair of pants, do the gods just expect you to never need to piss again?¡±
¡°I¡¯m more worried about a helm. I can barely sleep through the night without a snack, how long can I last if my mouth is sealed behind some great helm?¡± Ash half-jokingly said, though a drop of genuine worry did catch her.
¡°I¡¯m sure the conclave will be able to help,¡± Ev said as she mindlessly stroked the cold black steel. Ash doubted the Conclave would even care to see her, let alone help her, but the hope remained in its small company and that would have to suffice for now.
A set of red leather armour lay at the foot of her bed, though it seemed almost pristine. No trace of her blood ¨C nor that of her victims ¨C remained. The dirt that clawed its way into every crease and crevasse, staining the whole set black, seemed to have been burned away. The slash at her hip and the warrior''s modifications had all been taken away. The steel chain that covered her belly had been removed, and the metal shoulder pads would no longer weigh her down.
¡°That Kat woman spent most of the night fixing it up,¡± Ev laughed as she moved to the doorway, ¡°be sure to thank her.¡±
¡°Of course,¡± Ash breathily replied as she looked over the remarkable repairs. She half expected to lose the armour entirely, but here it lay; better than new.
She tenderly donned the red leather pads and strapped the many dark leather buckles. She did so very slowly, with the timidity of a woman with too many broken bones. She blamed the soft and opulent bed for robbing her of her constitution. She hadn¡¯t felt as much as a pang of pain during the entire travels from the veil, but now? She was in near agony.
Every breath burned, every movement seemed to grind her bones together, even thinking particularly loud thoughts sent pangs of searing flame down her spine. She felt where every blow had landed upon her. Where every nick had caught her flesh. She felt splinters riddle her back from where she had been thrown through a set of crates. Fortunately, the cold was at bay. The hearth that lay aside her bed had been lit while she slept, likely by the maid Kat. For some strange reason, the hearth being at her side confused Ash. She had expected it to be at her feet, though she had seen it already in the day prior.
¡°My lady,¡± a timid voice squeaked from the doorway as Ash slung her spear to her back. She saw the dirty blonde hair and immaculately pressed uniform of Kat within her quick silver looking glass.
¡°Good morrow, Kat,¡± Ash said, nodding to the maid in her mirror.
¡°The morrow is soon passed, my lady. I am to prepare you for the feast,¡± the timid woman said with an absence of passion.
¡°Please, call me Ash,¡± she smiled, turning to face the maid as she stepped further into the room.
¡°Of course, my lady,¡± the maid said with a completely straight face. She looked over Ash¡¯s chosen outfit and seemed to fixate on the barely visible stitches where Ash had been cut. ¡°I hope my repairs suffice.¡±
¡°You did brilliantly, Kat. I could almost forget I¡¯d seen battle in these leathers."
¡°You are too kind, Ash. Alas, we must make ready for the feast. The steward is occupied with the bishop, so I will be instructing you on the appropriate etiquette,¡± Kat said with such a depression of tone. She spoke much more flatly than she had the previous night. Ash assumed it had been a long night of repairs and preparations for the feast. It wouldn¡¯t have shocked her if Kat had yet to make for bed.
¡°Would you like to sit?¡± Ash offered.
¡°No, thank you.¡± Kat forced a smile as she spoke. A tuft of blonde fell before her freckled nose, she quickly bound it behind her ear.
¡°But you must be tired?¡±
Kat seemed to fake a chuckle as she said, ¡°my duties end at the feast, my lady. I will rest then. Do not worry for me, I will manage.¡±
¡°Be sure you do, Kat,¡± Ash said. She moved to her bed and took a seat as Kat stood before her. ¡°Anyway, these formalities?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± Kat nodded as she joined her hands in front of herself. ¡°Are you devout, Ash?¡±
¡°Not to the gods,¡± Ash awkwardly chuckled.
¡°Don¡¯t worry, many Champions aren¡¯t close followers to their own gods at first,¡± Kat smiled. ¡°Very well, I shall explain the rules of clergy. It is all very simple.¡±
Kat swallowed a deep breath and finally matched her pretty grey eyes with Ash¡¯s own. ¡°There are the mouths, typical everyday folk who devout themselves to the will of the gods. Then there are bishops, there is one to each nation in the continent. They worship one specific god and are granted divine capacities by their patron god. Then, within the Conclave, are the holy matrons. These blessed women are the bishops to the absolute trinity. They have the ability to summon the higher Gods once in a generation,¡± Kat explained.
¡°The trinity, that''s the Golden Goddess; the Steel Goddess and the... err,¡± Ash tried to recall, though the final slipped her mind.
¡°The forgotten Godden,¡± Kat finished on her behalf.
¡°Right, yeah... I forgot,¡± Ash said, as if it were clever. Kat didn¡¯t seem entertained and kept on her recitations.
¡°You refer to the bishops as mother or father and you refer to the divine matrons as their patrons. When you meet the bishop, stand and curtsy as a lady would. Then if she offers you her hand, take it and cover her ring with your other hand. She will ask your name, and only then may you rise. Look her in the eyes and speak only your name. If she invites you to speak further, you are lifted from all formalities. Otherwise, you are to leave her alone until you are called upon.¡±
¡°Right...¡± Ash sighed as she dropped her face to her hands. ¡°Simple.¡±
¡°Call her mother, cover her hand and speak when spoken to,¡± Kat simplified.
¡°Oh, I can remember that.¡± Ash perked up at the simplified explanation, and the first genuine smile found Kat. It made her look so much more exhausted. She looked ready to collapse at any second.
¡°I¡¯m ready, now go get some sleep,¡± Ash ordered.
¡°I... will see you to the feast hall, my lady,¡± Kat replied with a weary strain.
¡°I¡¯ll find it well enough on my own,¡± Ash insisted. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want to deny the request of a holy Champion, would you?¡± She teased.
¡°I... Suppose not,¡± Kat sighed. ¡°It¡¯s the big red door with all the guards stood out front.¡±
¡°Thanks. You can sleep here if you like? The bed is beyond comfort.¡±
¡°I... Thank you, my lady, but it would be improper. The other maids would spread rumours,¡± Kat bowed.
¡°Your loss,¡± Ash shrugged, not quite catching the implication.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.The big red door towered with six guardsmen holding it open. They silently admitted her and she stumbled past as her eyes fixed upon the feast hall within. All was immaculate. Gold plated support struts. Emerald studded chandeliers. Ruby shimmers from silver cutlery. As many cooked hogs as people sat in wait. Steaming goose, slavered in fat. An oven at the far end of the room was still baking bread and the smell of fresh dough buried her in warmth. Three rows of red wood tables spanned the massive hall, and at least a hundred men sat on each. At the head of the room lay a single gold leafed table perpendicular to the others. Three thrones sat behind it. One of ruby, one of sapphire and in the centre; one of steel. The baron had taken his place in the seat of steel, while a humbly dressed woman sat on a cushion of sapphire to his left.
¡°Sparrow-knight!¡± Maren called out with the joyous tones available only to those deep in their cups. ¡°Take a seat, my friend!¡±
Half of his drink came along with the invitation as he sloshed his cup around the hall. Ash made her way to his side with dreadful steps, though nobody noticed. Revelry and celebration filled the hall. Young men and women made as young men and women are wont to do from within their drunken merriment. The elder lords, ladies and folk of matter swapped rose tinted tales of their own youth and feats. A grey lady had gathered a fascinated horde around her table as she spoke on the doings of some long dead lecher queen. A great man told tale of war, and a great woman told tale of victory. Maren was singularly the loudest, though it seemed he had the least to say. Every second word was an indecipherable curse, and every fifth was the name of some long since dead man.
She caught the little white beacon amongst the crowds of feasters. Evara had gathered a small cohort of like aged girls and seemed to be half drunk as she laughed and revelled. Fortunately, she was well in view of Ash¡¯s ruby throne. The elder would be able to keep an eye on her sister as she doubtlessly devolved into her first drunken stupor.
¡°Sparreh,¡± Maren chortled as she took her seat. ¡°Not a warrior bird. I¡¯d have chosen- chosen a bloody hawk or somet¡¯. You know, with big fecking claws!¡± Maren slobbered. He curled his hands into some attempts at claws of his own before he rose to his unsteady feet.
¡°Ladies, lords and every other cunt guzzling my wine and feasting on my meat!¡± He announced with a beaming, almost endearing, smile.
¡°We¡¯re just trying to keep up with you, Maren!¡± The grey lady heckled from the crowd, and a chorus of laughter succeeded her. He joined the laughter before moving on.
¡°Right! Important shit for the night!¡± Maren began. ¡°We have not one, but two guests of honour!¡±
She felt them all looking at her. They seemed wholly disinterested in the other woman and entirely wrapped in the mystery that apparently surrounded her. It seemed Evara was the only person who didn¡¯t look at her. She was too enraptured in a mug of wine to notice the speech had even begun.
¡°Our guest of sapphire, Mother Satra, the bishop of the forge,¡± he beckoned to the other woman and she bowed her head to the crowd. The bishop caught Ash¡¯s gaze; she had a deeply cold leer about her. She looked almost offended that Ash would disgrace herself by looking at her. She didn¡¯t seem a pompous lady with the others, but she wore her indignation with a severe purpose. It melted away once Maren caught her attention, but quickly returned as he moved on to Ash.
¡°And of course, our guest of ruby. She who is called Sparrow-Knight! The Sai-Weleg of the Veil clearing. The flaming victor of the ¡®Duke¡¯s battle¡¯,¡± Maren blustered. A round of hesitant though seemingly awed applause rang out. He looked to her as though she ought to speak, then he thought better and carried on with a smile.
¡°Now, make this a feast to- to... A feast for legend! Make it that,¡± he slumped down into his seat after his spittle filled speech came to an applauded end.
The celebrations erupted. What had been before seemed now the polite mumblings of high society. Now, hedonism and divine sin. They tore at the boar; they guzzled down whole jugs in one. A pack of smiling wolves shedding their societal wools and living as nature had promised. It seemed the baron had been so thoughtful as to assign a guard to Evara. Some great stoic statue kept the worst of the evening from the little sister as she tried her hardest to keep up with the revelries.
¡°Sparrow-knight?¡± A refined voice called from across her table. For the first time Ash¡¯s gaze jolted from Ev and met the bishop. Satra, she had been called.
Ash rushed to recall her brief etiquette training, ¡°Cover her hand, call her mother and don¡¯t speak.¡± The last would be easy enough, though she¡¯d have to cross the table to cover her hand.
¡°Yes, mother?¡± Ash awkwardly sputtered over the newly sleeping baron.
¡°Mother Satra, child,¡± Satra sighed.
¡°Yes, of course,¡± Ash remembered only then that she was supposed to curtsey. She wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to do so while wearing leather padded armour. She jolted up and moved to stand but the bishop rose a steel-clad hand as to stop her.
¡°Do not concern yourself with the formalities, child,¡± Satra said. She spoke like a much older woman. She couldn¡¯t have surpassed thirty-five, though her rasping voice and soulful eyes masked the fact well. Ash had never heard her accent before and couldn¡¯t even hazard a guess at her origin. Her pale brown eyes set a strange blaze as she looked at Ash. The candlelight bound from her iron crown onto her ebony skin and shimmered along each of her steel jewels.
¡°Show me the mark,¡± she simply ordered. Ash made no protest, raising her left hand over the baron and showing the smoky black sparrow that had risen from the abyss. ¡°Remove the gauntlet,¡± Satra ordered as she poked over the mark.
¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Ash said.
¡°You cannot?¡± Satra pulled her arm across the baron and scoured for a seam in the metal, or some buckle to undo. She found none, though it didn¡¯t deter her inspection. Ash felt Satra¡¯s hand as it stroked and prodded at the metal. She could feel each finger as they pressed into her steel flesh. The black metal was more sensitive to touch than her own true hand. She felt the warmth bleed across the steel case like a drop of hot water. ¡°That is interesting,¡± Satra said as though it was a reluctant concession. ¡°Come with me, child.¡±
They stood in what seemed to be an old chapel. Dust lay where worshipers ought to have knelt. An idol of Maester Veil¡¯s patron goddess, Taeva, lay behind a cracked stone altar. The carved wooden relief displayed the goddess at the centre, holding her bow down to Marash while her eyes faced true. They almost seemed to follow Ash as she walked closer. It wasn¡¯t the first depiction of Taeva she had ever seen, but it was the most extravagant. Her father had carved a small wood idol of his own that he would carry on hunts, in it the goddess had been much less ''exaggerated''. Ash doubted this goddess could stand up straight, let alone act as the divine embodiment of the hunt.
¡°The baron disgraces your patron,¡± Satra whispered.
¡°I¡¯m sure she doesn¡¯t mind,¡± Ash forced a laugh.
¡°You would be surprised.¡±
¡°At what?¡±
¡°At the pettiness of scorned gods. At the wrath of the disgraced,¡± Satra said with a fresh venom pouring from her lips. She locked her eyes to Ash¡¯s gauntlet as she spoke. ¡°Tell me, child. Are you a Champion?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know. Everyone else seems to think so, and I guess it''s getting harder to deny,¡± Ash groaned. She didn¡¯t face the bishop, instead she turned to her dusty patron. The hunt had always been her comfort, a part of her wouldn¡¯t have minded being a Champion had she been claimed by Taeva.
¡°I warn you girl, the gods may not notice a blasphemous relief; but a false Champion is a heretic and a mockery to the divine. They will not abide you. This will be the last lie you ever tell.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve told no lies, mother Satra,¡± Ash replied clearly and with a false confidence. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I am a Champion, but I¡¯m willing to find out; whatever that means.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± Satra replied darkly. ¡°Kneel.¡±
Ash did so. She fell to both knees before the altar of the hunt. A burst of dust scrambled from beneath her and settled in the dusk light.
The bishop spoke in words no tongue could form. She spoke with thirty voices from thirty directions in a chorus of human instruments. She sang as the sun must do. She bellowed as the most vile winds would. She chortled as the eager revellers did. She spoke every name, and every word in every language before her eyes erupted in golden flame.
¡°I beg...¡± Came a voice from the stones beneath her. ¡°My goden...¡± Continued the dust in the air. ¡°To bless us, unworthy, with his grace...¡± Satra¡¯s own lips pled.
The wind spun around them and half a form came from within the vortex.
¡°To witness truth...¡± Ash found herself saying without will. ¡°Or crime.¡±
The visage of man, or half a man, or a thousand men, but certainly a male form came before and around them. She knew in an instant the obvious and primordial truth; this was a god. A true god. Beyond a mortal form and beyond mortal powers. The armies that stood upon his shoulder were carved of thinking stone. The sculptor gave each a passion and a hatred. A sneer of cold command and a grin of vicious joy. Spirits danced in the air between them. Ghosts of mortal men bound to the goden¡¯s star light eyes. It was within his starry leer that the question was answered before words could ask, though it didn¡¯t stop the bishop.
¡°My goden!¡± She begged as she fell upon her knees. ¡°This one claims divine choice. I beseech you, smite her as a heretic or claim her for her patron!¡±
The moons could have shone as eyes for she felt the gaze of an entire word upon her. This goden, wrapped in all the iron of the world, knew the truth before search had been made. She heard in the crackle of a far-off flame and the clanging of a blacksmith¡¯s hammer, ¡°The night¡¯s dreams have started; the victor will be left empty hearted. They hold their dreams to thee; and leave you in misery. Ashtik Sai-Weleg, Sparrow-knight or Black Heretic. Thy shall hold a name for each star you darken; when the Champion of Black is made the greatest archon.¡±
Then, with the thunderous grace of hellfire, the goden was gone and the world was still again.
¡°No...¡± was all Satra could gasp. The awe of seeing her goden had dissolved into abject terror. She collapsed from her knees to her back with a fitful quiver. She dragged each ragged breath down with a visible stress. Ash thought the vein at her neck might burst at a sneeze.
¡°Well... He didn¡¯t ¡®smite¡¯ me,¡± Ash breathlessly said. She rose to her feet and offered a hand to the bishop. She made sure not to offer the marked hand while the older woman was in such a frightful state.
¡°Does that make me a Cham-¡± Ash said until something new caught her wind. This was lesser, and far from godly. Her gauntlet screeched out like a frightened child and a pain coursed through the hidden flesh. It felt as though the gauntlet had just slit across her entire hand and further up her arm. She clenched it as something bubbled up from within. The metal seemed to boil and pop at the back of her hand. From within the molten steel came forth a deep purple gemstone. It set within her hand with an untold agony. Ash stubbornly refused to fall to her knees as it melted away at her flesh. A trickle of blood came from beneath the gauntlet and ran down her arm, then the impossible happened; the gauntlet retracted. It no longer covered her wrist, then it no longer reached her fingers. Eventually, her entire hand was free of its black tomb. Only the mark and the purple gemstone remained. She scratched away at the stone, though it was of no use. It had been fused to her skin in a more violent manner than the gauntlet had ever been. She could see where the skin had been torn apart to make room for it. As grateful as she was to have her hand free of the steel, the gem wasn¡¯t that much better.
¡°Sparrow?¡± Satra whispered.
¡°I¡¯m okay...¡± Ash lied. Her chest heaved while she drew each brutal breath.
¡°You know what this means?¡±
¡°I haven¡¯t a clue, Satra,¡± Ash snipped, the last of her patience having been exhausted by the searing pain that still persisted.
¡°It means Hevestiel has vouched for you. It means you have been claimed by a Goden,¡± Satra said with blatant awe. ¡°It means you are the first Champion of Black.¡±
Satra turned from Ash as she paced back and forth. She muttered uncontrollably to herself about ¡®implications¡¯ and ¡®prophesies.¡¯ The most Ash could glean was, ¡°the conclave must know. The city must be summoned,¡± before Satra slipped into some other language.
¡°There¡¯s a Black goden?¡± Ash frustratedly asked of the still pacing woman.
¡°Yes, your people call him the forgotten Goden,¡± Satra casually said.
¡°But... Isn¡¯t he one of the big ones?¡±
¡°He is the grandfather of our world. The eldest of the pantheon. He is the third of the absolute trinity,¡± Satra recited.
¡°Then... What¡¯s his domain? I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s not summer rains and cuddles.¡±
¡°He is the patron of dreams; the Goden of sorrow and memories.¡±
¡°That all seems unrelated?¡±
¡°He is the kind Goden of sorrow. We all face terrible pain, he gives us dreams that we might face the pain within ourselves, and forget the battle come the morning. He lets us remember and live in that memory as we slumber,¡± Satra explained with unreserved reverence.
¡°That seems like a good thing, right? Why is he the Black Goden? Why does everybody seem to dread him?¡±
¡°It could be a mercy to dream of kindness in the dark, or you could dream your only day in this world away,¡± Satra said. ¡°But they don¡¯t dread him; they dread you. They dread what you represent. Dreams can be good or bad. A dream can be pure love, or a true nightmare. They fear that you are destined to be the latter.¡±
¡°I am no nightmare,¡± Ash promised.
¡°Not yet,¡± Satra almost laughed. ¡°But the night is young, and the first dream is yet to begin.¡±
¡°What happens now?¡± The Champion of Black asked.
¡°Now... I must send for the Conclave. Rest, Champion. On the morrow, we will prepare for our journey to Duke¡¯s crossing.¡±
Chapter Seven: Trials of the Traitor.
Chapter Seven: Trials of the Traitor.
Our tale as yet, has been told for our chosen and our Champion. Allow, if you would, a small deviation. The beginnings ¨C and ending ¨C of another¡¯s tale. A man in dark armour, with shimmering blue eyes and a heart emptied of his natural warmth.
He stood at the fore of the battle, so long ago. A thousand men broke themselves against a dozen of his own. The warriors of the Bloodlands, the heroes of this war, cheered his name in glee and admiration. They called upon their gods to bless his fledgling house; the house of Fielder. They swore to sing his songs for eternity, and begged to be held in his service till they could give their very lives in his honour.
He hated them all for it, when in the night before he had loved them to the last man.
Snowy wings had brought cold tidings to his battle tent. A white raven sent personally from his divine queen. The battle had been won, the war would be all too easy, and yet the purpose had been lost. He held the little letter in his steel hands and read the terrible words.
¡°Amell,¡± It read in crimson characters, ¡°tidings from your hearth bare grim news.¡± The queen¡¯s steward must have dictated. Had Vias herself written the letter, it would have been four words and half of them profane. ¡°Tales of cowardly action taken as reprisal for your glorious conquest. They reliably say, though I am yet to personally confirm, that some scorned warrior ¨C defeated in honourable combat ¨C has left his sense and taken arms against your own blood. They say your son fought the warrior, and his cowardly compatriots, to the last man. They say he fought like a man from legend, despite his overbearing youth.¡± The prose boiled his blood. The letter ought to have spoken plainly. Flowers were for beautiful women and gravestones, not dark words in bloody letters. ¡°Amell, my friend, it is with more pain than I could possibly express that I tell you; the false warriors began a flame in your home. Though the cowards were slaughtered to the man, the flame persisted. There was nothing left. Nobody left.¡± He didn¡¯t read beyond that. A passing glance said something of funeral preparations and royal audiences, but it didn¡¯t matter. He burnt the letter and readied for war.
Legends had been told till that day, of his prowess and genius. No more. They tell only of his betrayal. They tell of how he burnt a city to the ground while his men slept within. They tell tale of how he destroyed two armies with a single word and disappeared into the bloody soaked night.
There is no man in this world more wanted, more hated, than Amell Fielder. The so-called Traitor of Blood. Such a man would be a scourge to his enemies, but something much worse for his friends.
Every street he walked seemed lined with the thousand corpses he had claimed in his past life. Every howl of wind seemed to carry the blood curdling screams of his flame kissed bride. Every young man that passed him seemed to hold the deathly visage of his only son. They all looked so disappointed, sons of a failure.
¡°What¡¯ll it be, handsome?¡± The old bar maid winked at him as he crouched beneath their doorway. ¡°My, you¡¯re a big one aren¡¯t ya¡¯.¡± A drop of sweat swirled across her strangely angular face. The hazel of her eyes seemed to appraise him in his whole.
¡°Evening, ma¡¯am.¡± Amell bowed his head, more out of necessity than manners. The dinky little tavern was ill suited even to a man of modest stature, so Amell - and his hulking frame ¨C looked as though he walked through a child¡¯s playroom.
¡°Ma¡¯am, ay?¡± The bar maid scoffed. ¡°Big an¡¯ mannerly. What¡¯s your name, sweetheart?¡±
¡°Colin, ma¡¯am.¡± He lied. Amell took a seat at her bar, and she poured the only ale the house held.
¡°Colin... That¡¯s a funny name. What¡¯s the accent?¡± She asked as he handed her a single bronze plate.
¡°Kovayesh, though I¡¯ve lived in the Bloodlands for quite some time.¡± Amell answered. He took a swig from the tankard before him. The mug was old and well worn, it had more of a flavour than the ale. Mould with a hint of honey, a true delicacy. He nearly coughed up his first swallow but managed it down in one.
¡°Bet a biggun¡¯ like you did well in the Bloodlands. Could av¡¯ had the Blood queen herself wrapped round your not-so-little finger.¡± The old maid laughed, though her insistent gaze didn¡¯t falter from his arms.
¡°You have no idea.¡± He thought to himself. Her comment brought an accidental darkness to his face, she noticed right away. He buried the thought at the bottom of his ale and shone a mummer¡¯s smile. ¡°Such would be an honour, though I fear I lack the charisma for such a conquest.¡± He said with a well-practiced laugh.
¡°Do all Kovayeshi speak so fancifully?¡± She grinned.
¡°I doubt it. Kovayesh is a small kingdom, but quite powerful and very rich. So, we tend to be better educated than most.¡± He said much too meekly for a man of his stature.
¡°So, what brings a well-educated Kovayeshi, Bloodland bandit to a Dwargon tavern in the middle of Duke¡¯s crossing?¡± She chuckled. The older woman, whose name Amell had not deigned to learn, poured two more tankards and joined him in his cups. The company didn¡¯t last long, though. The mug was the size of her head, yet she had it down and done before Amell¡¯s own could reach his lips. A terrible blush burst across her nose the instant the empty mug hit the table.
¡°It¡¯s... hard to explain.¡± He hesitated before downing half of his drink in a single gulp.
¡°I¡¯m a pretty smart lady, try me.¡± She laughed.
¡°Well, I¡¯ve been wandering the continent for quite some time now. I haven¡¯t spent more than a couple of nights in any one place.¡± Amell began.
She took a more fanciful voice as she said, ¡°one might assume you were a man on tha¡¯ run,¡± though she couldn¡¯t mask her true nasally tone.
¡°Maybe,¡± He admitted, ¡°but then I had a dream.¡±
¡°A dream?¡±
¡°Aye, a dream. A strange dream of a black snowcapped mountain that moved the world at a whim.¡± He recalled. ¡°As I looked up her, at this colossal mountain, I felt... Hope. For the first time in an awful long time; I truly had hope.¡±
¡°How¡¯d ya¡¯ know it was a she?¡± The maid asked, wrapped fully in his tale.
¡°She - the mountain ¨C spoke to me.¡± He said almost in awe of the memory.
¡°What did it say?¡±
¡°She said; ¡®Help me, Amell... Please.¡¯¡± He repeated.
¡°Well whose Amell then?¡± She asked.
¡°Oh, I...¡± Only then had he realised his slip up. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I suppose I¡¯ll find out.¡± He answered.
¡°Bugger all that.¡± A croaky voice called from the tiny staircase to his left. A dwargon man, as tall as Amell¡¯s knee, came lumbering down the stairs. The final wisps of his orange hair caught in the wind as he stormed along. The oversized eyes his people were best known for seemed to capture the entire room at a glance. It was no wonder the little tavern was so poorly lit; anything more would have been blinding for the little man.
¡°This is my ¡®usband, Gertrude.¡± The maid introduced.
¡°A pleasure, I assume you are the proprietor?¡± Amell smiled, offering a steel gloved hand to shake.
¡°What kind a¡¯ man needs armour to go out and get a drink?¡± Gertrude snorted. He didn¡¯t shake Amell¡¯s hand but shuffled along behind the bar.
"Enough of all that, Gert.¡± The maid sighed.
¡°Nah!¡± Gertrude grunted. ¡°Some big lumbering oaf comes into my tavern talkin¡¯ nonsense about dreams an¡¯ mountains with tits.¡±
¡°He never mentioned tits, ye¡¯ little goblin.¡± The maid smacked the dwargon man up the back of his head as she poured Amell a new cup.
¡°Yeah he did! He said the mountain was a woman, what kinda¡¯ woman don¡¯t have tits?¡± He insisted.
¡°Plenty of women don¡¯t have tits!¡± The maid shouted with little regard for propriety.
¡°Like who?¡±
¡°Like, that pretty lass; Beth.¡± The maid insisted.
¡°Naw! Small tits are still tits, matters not the size.¡± He said as though making some powerful point.
¡°What about Marola?¡± She asked. The question stumped the little man. He had an answer at the tip of his tongue but quickly swallowed it.
¡°Alright, maybe not all women av¡¯ tits, but it¡¯s a fair assumption!¡± He finally conceded.
¡°Gods bless, we have a refined Kovayeshi gentleman here and all you can think about are tits! I¡¯m so sorry, Colin.¡± She cried, placing a hand on Amell¡¯s arm. He shot her a warm smile and nodded. He kept his smile in hopes it would be comfort and answer enough for the two. He had never been so thoroughly lost for words, so naturally he fell onto the few words that were always welcome in a tavern.
¡°How about another round?¡± Amell smiled.
¡°Truly, a refined gentleman. Some people could learn a few lessons.¡± The maid pointedly said. It roused a grunt in her little husband, though he gladly took three more bronze plates from Amell.
¡°So, gentleman,¡± Gert spat, ¡°why Duke¡¯s crossing? The mountain tell you that too?¡±
¡°I... Don¡¯t know, honestly. In the dream, this place just felt right.¡± He admitted.
¡°This shithole?¡± Gert doubted.
¡°Not... specifically here. Somewhere around here, though.¡±
¡°Well, I wish you luck, darling. We¡¯ll leave you alone now. Disturbed your peace quite enough, I''ll say.¡± The maid smiled.
He stayed in that cramped little tavern for some hours to come, drowning his doubts in ale after ale. He believed coming to Maester Veil was foolish, that the Veytors had too great a presence in the nation and that they would be sure to find him. He recalled the parts of the dream that went unspoken. He thought on the reward for his service. The promise the mountain had made in its young voice. His duty would be fulfilled and the gods would grant him his heart¡¯s desire. Not heaven, but death. Not redemption, but an ending. Twas¡¯ all he deserved.
A new dawn rose, though he didn¡¯t join it willingly. The sapphire dawn pierced the shabby shades and shone a beam of brilliant light directly into the cold blue of his eyes. He peeled his face from the table he had slept on and snuck away from the dozen drunken fellows that had yet to rise. Stealth was rarely an option for a man of his build, though the scores of empty tankards that lay scattered around the pretty brunette at his side likely meant no great sneakery was needed.
He met the fresh harbour air and took a perfect breath. The morrows catch left a thick scent, even this far from the mongers. Salt lay upon his tongue and the warmth of an autumn sun kissed his bare face. It reminded him of home, Kovayesh. He never could get used to living in the Bloodlands. They say the sun was too scared of the royal wrath of queen Vias to crown over her domain. Darkness held the island almost year-round, though the dawn always seemed glad to greet its sister, the Forgelands.
¡°Hear ye! Hear ye!¡± A young lad cried from atop of an old cask as he rang out a little cattle bell. His torn rags and oversized cap clashed against the blatant gold medallion that dangled from his neck. It was seconds before a small crowd had gathered at his feet. Minutes before a horde hung on his every word.
¡°Tale arises from the nation and from afar!¡± The boy announced in a strangely monotonous way. ¡°First, of the Conclave!¡± He began, ¡°the perfect Matrons have deigned to grace our crossing with the true Moving City!¡± The crowd unsettled at that. A frantic, though excited, energy permeated the workers and children alike. ¡°Of the midday, shall the city arrive!¡± He declared.
Amell hadn¡¯t seen the moving city in quite some time. Once, the news would have excited him just as much as it seemed to the children. Now?
His stomach churned at the thought. An army of Veytors would be at the heels of the city. Each of them would be all too glad to take his head. He questioned why the dream would bring him to such transparent danger.
¡°Next, tales within our own borders!¡± The boy cried over the quickly loudening crowd. ¡°To the east, a vast battle occurred between the armies of the Veil and the Tevran fiends! The battle was bloody, but with the aid of an Oaranic mercenary company, the Tevrans were felled, and victory came to our boys in red!¡± The crowd cheered at that. The boy was lying, Amell knew. The ¡®battle¡¯ as he had called it, was naught more than a skirmish. A thousand Maester Veil troops ambushed four-hundred Tevrans, yet the Tevrans had taken two men down for each of their own losses. It would have shamed the great general Amell had once been to call such a slaughter ¡®victory¡¯.
¡°Our next tale is of vast import!¡± The boy said again in his ever-wearied way. ¡°A bandit raid to the north left a village burnt, and villagers without homes. Though, by all reports, it seems no villager have been harmed! You may ask how such a feat could be possible?¡± The boy droned on with utter disinterest despite his captive audience. ¡°It would seem a hero of legend has been forged in the fires of her own home! She, so called, Sparrow-Knight! A woman, nineteen summers past by all accounts, single handedly slaughtered an entire army of bandits. So great was her feat, that the bishop of steel herself hath declared the Sparrow-Knight to be ordained by the gods!¡±
There was a moment of silence at that. Utter confusion, maybe?
Amell had known the bishop of steel in passing. ¡°Sasha, perhaps?¡± He tried to recall. She seemed a well put together woman. Not one for wild declarations. He recalled her as a singularly pious woman, so naturally she despised him. She was bishop of the Forgelands, not Maester Veil, it seemed strange to Amell that she would be present at this little village to greet this supposedly ordained warrior.
¡°More than simply ordained, dear listener! The bishop, and all who stood in witness, claim this Sparrow-Knight to be none other than a Champion!¡± The boy continued, though his droning tone seemed to carry a bite of mockery. It seemed he didn¡¯t believe his own words, nor did his audience.
¡°Bullshit!¡± A young girl called; she couldn¡¯t have been older than eight.
¡°Tis¡¯ sworn on gods¡¯ honour!¡± The boy said, raising a hand in holy salute.
¡°Champion of what?¡± A fisher called from the crowd.
¡°There is no knowing as yet, though rumours persist of much darkness in her divine patron. Witnesses to the announcement claim that this Sparrow-Knight has been confirmed by the holy goden, Hevestiel, as the Champion of... Black.¡±
The energy of the earlier crowd was gone in an instant. If the Conclave arriving in Duke¡¯s crossing hadn¡¯t torn a hole in Amell¡¯s belly, this news certainly had. The Goden of dreams, of memory, of sorrow; the harbinger of the end. The prophecy was not known to most people, but Amell was anything but most people. He knew what the Champion of Black would mean. He knew why his dreams had brought him here.
¡°What does she look like?¡± Amell called out despite his better judgment. He needed to know, though he hated the risk of drawing attention.
¡°They say she be a striking beauty. Tan of skin, like all daughters of the north, though they say her eyes are amethyst blades and her tongue is locked behind pearly white steel bars. They say a single word from her would fell even a man so great as you, ser knight, and so ¨C in her mercy ¨C she deigns to never speak. They say that the day she was born, a powerful blizzard tore her from her own mother¡¯s teat, and now she be a snowcapped maiden; with hair of pure dazzling ice!¡±
¡°Fuck,¡± was the only thought he could muster. A snowcapped maiden, the Champion of dreams & Black. It seemed to Amell that the gods had not planned his retirement to be an easy one. He knew immediately that his destiny lay within this nineteen-year-old. ¡°Fuck.¡±
¡°How¡¯d you know all this about her?¡± Some old man called from the crowd.
¡°A feast was held in her honour. There tale was told to all those of the lowly court of baron Marren of house Battlespit! My informant heard his tales from the brilliant and ever reliable bard, Evara White-tongue.¡± The boy announced.
¡°Who?¡± The old man scoffed.
¡°A... notable bard from the north of the kingdom. I assure you, all to the north know of the implacable Evara White-tongue!¡± The boy lied.
¡°I¡¯m from the north, I ¡®aint never heard tell of no Evara!¡± A toothless man called from behind his great bushy beard.
¡°Sir, you look to be a mere baker. How many bards have you heard tale of?¡± The boy snipped. He awaited no response before finishing his address.
¡°Alas, dear listener! Keep an eye, and ear, out for this Sparrow-Knight. Doubtless she will be looking to meet with the Conclave once the Moving City arrives. Till the next tenday, I bid you farewell! Remember to pay your way as you go!¡± The boy shouted over the quickly dispersing crowd. He frantically offered up a bucket and each of the crowd paid in a bronze plate, or a couple of coppers. Amell followed suit and left for the great port gate.
There would be some time before midday. Amell decided to make for a tailor in hopes of buying some disguise. It seemed dark plate on a man as large as he made for a more conspicuous silhouette than he would like.
The shop was much nicer than the tavern. Crystal lamps and spiralling glass stairways seemed thrown around the stone building with little regard for sense. It was yet another undersized building, though. Obviously, to say so wouldn¡¯t be entirely fair. The doorways came to most men¡¯s heads, but Amell¡¯s lower chest. A dozen mannequins scattered the lot. Some hung from the ceiling, some stood on the walls. All looked simply resplendent.
¡°Ah!¡± A strange rasp sounded from behind a cabinet twice Amell¡¯s size. A ladder rolled from behind the cabinet and an interesting looking woman hopped down from atop of it. ¡°Welcome!¡± She cheered. Her voice carried an illness, as though she had been coughing without end for a decade, or as though she had just battled away a severe flame. ¡°How can I help yo-¡± The woman¡¯s query fell short as her eyes came upon the massive knight. ¡°Brilliant.¡± She grinned, ¡°gimme¡¯ something good, big boy.¡±
¡°Good morrow, my lady.¡± Amell awkwardly laughed.
¡°Yeah, yeah... Can I take your measurements now or are you not a fan of foreplay?¡± She said in dark velvet tones.
¡°I think myself thrice your age, my lady.¡± Amell said as he backed away slightly from the red eyed woman.
¡°You¡¯d be surprised, but I hardly see the relevance.¡± She said. Her twinkling eyes darted across his armour, and she span to his back much too quickly for him to see. ¡°Your cloak¡¯s buggered,¡± she noted, ¡°I¡¯ll assume that¡¯s why you¡¯re here?¡± She pulled down on his cape with surprising force. It sent him a step backwards, before she returned to his face in between blinks.
¡°I- Yes.¡± Amell said, rubbing at his neck where the cape had caught. ¡°You are the tailor?¡±
¡°No, big boy, I¡¯m the spider in the attic.¡± She said in a sardonic rasp.
¡°Fair point.¡± He laughed. ¡°So, might I contract your employ?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t mind what I contract from you... Okay that was too far; yeah, I can help you. What do you want?¡± She giggled.
¡°Well... A cloak, if it can be made quickly.¡± He uncomfortably said.
¡°A cloak...¡± She pondered, checking him over. He caught a familiar focus in her sanguine eyes, it was a kind of adoration. Not of him, but of her craft. It was an adoration he had held once as he swung his blade. An adoration lost to time and fate. Her raven black hair battled to leap from her haphazard bun, secured only by a seamstress¡¯ pin. She wore a strange burgundy bodice over a black felt undershirt. Five ornamental rings clinked against his steel skin, as did her sharp overlong nails.
¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t catch your name?¡± Amell said, as politely as he could.
¡°Names are words; words are wind, you couldn¡¯t catch them if you tried.¡± The girl laughed. A girl she was, surely no older than twenty or twenty-one; yet her eyes, so much passion within two great rubies. Years beyond her own, to be sure. Not to mention the deftness of her craft. She must have begun training fresh from the womb. He should have left her there, he shouldn¡¯t have said a word, but there are powers in this world all are subject to. Some of these powers are greater even than sense. The power of the question, curiosity, forced his tongue where his teeth ought to have bit.
¡°What are you?¡± He plainly asked. She froze at it, though her tailor¡¯s needle seemed all too lively.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.¡°That¡¯s a rude thing to ask of a lady.¡± She chuckled with a dreamy tone.
¡°It would be, aye.¡± He grimly said, backing a half pace away from her. Smoky sanguine met cold cobalt and half a threat passed each¡¯s silent lips. ¡°Vampris?¡± He guessed, ¡°or some breed of Daem?¡±
¡°I already told you,¡± the girl¡¯s smile dropped as she took a deep breath, ¡°I¡¯m the spider in the attic. A big man like you wouldn¡¯t be scared of a little ol¡¯ spider, would you?¡±
¡°You know the Conclave is coming? The streets will crawl with Veytors, you need to run.¡± Amell said.
¡°Aaw, you sound worried. Haven¡¯t even had to work my magic and you¡¯re already falling in love.¡± The spider laughed without smiling.
¡°I have no hatred of your people.¡± Amell sternly said. ¡°A needless death is a crime regardless of the species.¡±
¡°A rare attitude.¡±
¡°Why haven¡¯t you fled?¡± Amell pressed.
¡°I¡¯m... waiting for someone.¡± The spider hesitantly answered. He noticed her eyes dart between his dagger and great sword; then his throat and the chinks in his armour. She was planning her attack.
¡°Someone like you?¡± Amell guessed.
¡°Oh, gods no. Devils - ¡®like me¡¯ - make for such dreadful company. No, I¡¯m waiting for an angel.¡± The spider grinned. Her eyes dropped from his though only now did he notice that she hadn¡¯t blinked once. She scanned the tatted rags he draped over his armour with a tier of distain, though she noticeably uncoiled.
¡°I¡¯m thinking lapis,¡± she finally said, ¡°It¡¯ll match your eyes.¡±
¡°You¡¯ll meet the angels soon enough if the Veytors catch wind of you.¡± Amell pressed.
¡°Maybe a white link chain to hold it in place.¡± She continued, paying him no mind.
¡°Child, they will find you.¡± Amell urged. He took her shoulders into his hands and nearly shook sense into her, though he thought better of himself quickly.
¡°Don¡¯t touch me, soldier boy.¡± The spider calmly ordered.
¡°I¡¯m trying to help.¡± He insisted. ¡°I know what they¡¯re capable of, you can¡¯t hide.¡±
¡°So, what? I should hide in the sewers until they leave? Darling, this is Tavei silk; I won¡¯t even drink tea in it.¡± She said, flushing a hand across her black skirts.
¡°It won¡¯t be so pretty torn and bloodied.¡± Amell continued.
¡°I can handle myself, gods; you¡¯d think you were my father.¡± The spider sighed. She finally stepped away from him. The girl glided to a box at the bottom of her massive cabinet and started digging around within.
¡°No, you can¡¯t. They exist for the sole purpose of hurting people like you.¡± He insisted.
¡°People like me, hey?¡± The spider laughed from within the shelf. It was a moment longer before she stood away from the box and presented Amell with a series of cloaks.
¡°Since you insist on taking all of the fun out of my life,¡± she groaned, ¡°here; take your pick.¡±
He knew the futility of arguing with her. His sister had been just as stubborn and arrogant in her youth. He simply chose the most subdued cloak and she took it off to be resized in his image. She worked in a little nook at the far end of the room in complete silence. She stitched and cut at pieces of colour matched fabric as she seemed to guess his measurements simply by glancing at him.
¡°Thank you.¡± Amell bowed as she worked away. ¡°My name is Colin, by the way.¡±
¡°I know who you are, Fielder.¡± The girl spat, seemingly offended he would lie to her. His cold eyes grew near as wide as the Dwargon drinksmith¡¯s had been. His blood ran cold at the ease of her confession.
¡°What?¡± He gasped, ready at his blade.
¡°I¡¯m Tenpic, your face is plastered on every wall in every island. I had your bounty poster on my bedroom wall as a kid.¡± She chuckled. ¡°You were much hotter back then, before all the greys.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t plan on collecting, I hope?¡± He whispered, his hand stroking the pommel of his great sword.
¡°I¡¯m a tailor, Amell. Not a bounty hunter. I make bodices, not bodies.¡± She coldly grunted.
¡°I thought you were a spider. You could be weaving a cloak... or a web.¡± He slyly replied. It brought back her smile, though she remained wrapped in her work.
¡°Ooh, touch¨¦.¡± She laughed as she placed a pin. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the great warrior would know how to play.¡±
Amell released his blade and took a slow step closer to the girl. She didn¡¯t seem to mind as he sat across from her.
He noticed her demeanour change somewhat. She almost seemed to relax as he sat. He decided to ask, ¡°so, what¡¯s a Tenpic vampris-¡±
¡°Spider.¡± She mockingly cut off.
¡°What¡¯s a Tenpic spider doing this far north?¡± He corrected with a smile.
¡°Waiting on the angels.¡± She simply replied. ¡°As I already said.¡±
¡°How long have you been waiting?¡± Amell asked.
¡°My whole life,¡± was her first answer, ¡°a few days.¡± Was her final.
¡°Does an angel have a name?¡± He asked.
¡°Maybe,¡± she pondered, ¡°but I haven¡¯t earned it yet.¡± She spoke dreamily, as though she was speaking to her reflection in the mirror ¨C thinking aloud ¨C instead of conversing with the man before her.
¡°So,¡± Amell began, hoping to carry on the conversation, ¡°you¡¯ve only been in the crossing a few days?¡±
¡°Yup, adorable; isn¡¯t it?¡± She grinned.
¡°How have you managed to get a job here in just a few days then?¡± He asked.
¡°Oh, I don¡¯t work here.¡± She gladly admitted.
¡°You don¡¯t?¡±
¡°Heavens, no. The old coot who owns the place could never afford me.¡± She laughed.
¡°Dare I ask where he is?¡±
¡°Depends how brave you¡¯re feeling.¡± She glibly answered. It was a moment of silence after that, until she finally answered, ¡°he¡¯s fine. Probably off with his mistress.¡±
¡°Is that the truth?¡± Amell doubted.
¡°It''s what I¡¯m telling you. Is that not the same thing?¡± She said in a strangely distant way.
¡°Enough of me now, Don. Amell.¡± The spider smiled. ¡°Come on, tell me why you did it.¡±
She dropped her work for the first time and leant forth, capturing his gaze within her own. She wrapped her pale little hands around her cheeks as she focused solely on him. It was not a focus he desired, but he was quickly realising that was her intention. It was a part of her game. He could back out, or he could challenge her and battle for her respect. Amell was a general at heart, challenge was no excuse for retreat and a battle was meant to be won.
¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal,¡± he grinned, ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what you want to know, if you tell me what I want to know.¡± The offer intrigued her, though he could see some doubt in her smile. The two locked eyes, and she saw his challenge.
¡°One condition.¡± The spider grinned. ¡°I get a veto.¡±
¡°Done.¡± Amell replied.
¡°Very well, ask away.¡± The spider offered.
¡°What¡¯s your real name?¡± He quickly asked.
¡°Veto.¡± She cruelly smirked. ¡°My turn. Why¡¯d you betray Queen Vias?¡±
¡°Wasting your Veto on that? Okay...¡± Amell laughed. He had taken an early lead in his little battle before a word had been spoken on his behalf. ¡°I didn¡¯t betray Vias.¡± Amell carefully answered. He knew this game, he had to answer carefully; lead her questions in a way he could handle.
¡°Ooh, intrigue?¡± The spider laughed. ¡°Go ahead then, your turn.¡±
¡°Why risk your life waiting for an angel?¡± He asked.
¡°Because she made my heart beat.¡± The girl plainly answered.
¡°Romantic.¡± He laughed.
¡°My turn.¡± The girl energetically said, shedding the sincerity of her answer. ¡°Why did you kill your men?¡±
¡°I watched dark flames fly, and my men cheer, and in my heart ¨C I knew ¨C I would never see paradise again. I saw the proud men fight for the woman who had taken everything from me, and I wanted to burn them all.¡± Amell grimly, though thoughtfully, answered.
¡°Damn.¡± The spider sighed. ¡°What could Vias have taken from you?¡±
¡°Are you vampris?¡± He quickly asked again, not giving her time for thought.
¡°I¡¯m a spider.¡± She laughed.
¡°Yes, or no.¡± Amell pressed.
¡°No...¡± She sighed. ¡°But yes.¡±
¡°It¡¯s one or the other.¡± He insisted.
¡°You are absolutely correct, yet the world does so hate absolutes.¡±
She wasn¡¯t lying, though her answer wasn¡¯t possible. To be half a vampris would simply result in an early grave. He thought on her words as he studied the deep sanguine pits of her eyes.
¡°Why come to Maester Veil? You¡¯d be no safer here than I.¡± She asked.
¡°It came to me in a dream.¡± He answered.
¡°You need to be more specific than that!¡± She giggled.
¡°You were just as vague.¡± Amell insisted
¡°No, you simply didn¡¯t understand my answer. It¡¯s not the same.¡± She confidently said, sitting straight and closing herself off. He knew he was losing her again, so he conceded the point,
¡°Fine. I dreamt of a black mountain. She told me she needs help, so I came here, to help.¡± He reluctantly explained.
¡°The black mountains are to the south, darling. You¡¯re half a world away.¡± The spider smiled. She came closer yet again and locked her eyes with his.
¡°I think the mountain was more a metaphor, at least... I hope so.¡± He chuckled.
¡°Would be a bit awkward. Your destiny calls for you, and you¡¯re at the other end of the continent.¡± She joined his little laughter. ¡°Fine, I accept that answer. Your turn, make it a good one.¡±
¡°Very well, tell me something I would want to know about you.¡± He said.
¡°I¡¯m twenty-eight.¡± She laughed. ¡°You take that secret to the grave, or I¡¯ll bring the grave to you.¡± She ordered, mostly seriously.
¡°Damn, I¡¯d have thought you were older.¡± He laughed.
She did not.
¡°I mean... A vampris can be any age!¡± He stammered under her bloody gaze. ¡°You look much younger, I just assumed that to be a part of your condition!¡± Even a bead of sweat found his brow as he quickly scrambled for some appropriate appeasement.
¡°I was going to ask what your greatest mistake was,¡± she coldly sneered, ¡°but now I know; I¡¯ll settle with your second greatest.¡± The woman returned to her stitchwork as he considered an answer.
¡°I slept.¡± He quietly answered.
¡°That¡¯s it?¡± She grunted. ¡°An oaf like you must have done worse than that.¡±
¡°No crime can be so terrible.¡± He whispered. ¡°It is a regret of the human condition; one you needn¡¯t consider. For twenty years, I spent the night sleeping, when I wanted to be wide awake; admiring her.¡± The joy of the game left him. The question beat him, and victory was hers.
¡°Your wife?¡± The spider guessed.
¡°When she was alive, I never wanted to sleep because I¡¯d miss her. Now that she¡¯s gone; I never want to sleep because she¡¯s always there.¡± Amell took a second at that. He nearly gasped back a tear, but it seemed determined to fall alone. He could offer it no partner on its journey; some vestige of the warrior held back the dam.
¡°My battles would take me across the world, my wars would keep me on my own; but I was never lonely. I always had the thought of her, waiting. In all my nights; I slept alone. In all my battles; I fought alone. But in all my love; I never once loved alone. Now I do. Now I am alone.¡± He dragged a shaky breath and steeled himself as he caught her sanguine gaze. ¡°But then I dreamt of a mountain. It was the first dream I¡¯ve had alone since she died. It was a dream of hope; purpose. That is why I am here; to climb my mountain.¡±
Neither spoke for a while. The girl allowed him his thoughts while she stitched away, and he didn¡¯t disturb her focus. She wasn¡¯t truly focused on the job, as she had been before. Half her mind clearly searched for some appropriate words. Her black lips even parted once or twice, as though the words were battling to spring forth. Her eyes danced across the deep blue cloak, never settling anywhere of note. She still hadn¡¯t blinked. It made her look wounded, as though she lay in some ancient battlefield, not a squatter''s tailor shop.
¡°You don¡¯t blink.¡± He said after enough time had passed.
¡°Correct.¡± She simply replied.
¡°Is that a symptom of your condition?¡± Amell asked. He half expected some overly laconic answer, so he was only half disappointed.
¡°No.¡± She dreamily whispered.
¡°Then why not?¡±
¡°I counted how long I spend per day with my eyes closed.¡± She laughed. ¡°It¡¯s about two hours.¡±
¡°You didn¡¯t want to waste the time?¡± Amell guessed.
¡°I¡¯m immortal, I literally cannot waste time. No, I stopped blinking because there is too much beauty in this world to walk around with my eyes closed.¡± The spider looked at him as he laughed. ¡°Here.¡± She offered out the cloak and he took it gladly.
¡°That was quick.¡± He laughed.
¡°Would have been a lot quicker with less interesting company.¡± She said.
¡°Well, how much do I owe you?¡± Amell asked.
¡°Me? Nothing.¡± She laughed. She rose a pale hand out to the clerk¡¯s desk, and the logbook atop of it. ¡°Though you might want to compensate the owner for his fabric.¡±
¡°Right.¡± He chuckled into himself, pulling free some bronze plates and leaving them on her workbench. ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t want payment. I have plenty.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t need money.¡± She said, gliding behind the clerk¡¯s desk. ¡°Good luck climbing your mountain.¡±
Amell shone her a warm smile as he donned the deep royal azure cloak atop his dented old armour. He buckled the pearly white chain across and placed his ancient helm over his equally ancient face.
¡°And good luck finding your angel.¡± He said with a knightly bow.
¡°I don¡¯t think I will.¡± She sighed.
¡°No?¡±
¡°You¡¯re right, the Veytors will find me before I can get to her. Wishful thinking was all that kept me here.¡± She groaned. ¡°I think I just needed to be told off, get the idea out of my head.¡±
¡°So you plan on giving up?¡± Amell doubted. He noticed the tone in his own voice. It was how he spoke to his son when he risked disappointment.
¡°Not at all.¡± She said, careless of his tone. ¡°Tell me, your mountain. She¡¯s the Sparrow-Knight, isn¡¯t she?¡±
¡°You know too much for your own good.¡± Amell sighed. ¡°How do you know that?¡±
¡°The whole world seems to revolve around her. I can¡¯t imagine anything less would drag you from your hiding.¡± The spider chuckled in a tone she hadn¡¯t held in their prior conversation. She spoke less innocently, more like a true vampris. ¡°Do me a favour, call it payment for the cloak.¡± She finally said, savouring every syllable.
¡°Very well?¡± Amell hesitantly offered. Her eyes sharpened at the thought of this Sparrow-Knight, for the first time; he noticed her fang. Only one, on the right of her mouth. The other, which ought to have been just as deadly, seemed terribly human. Not filed down, nor broken at the jut, but unmarred by her vampris biology.
¡°Tell her...¡± She considered, ¡°tell her that her friend is proud of her. Tell her to kick some ass.¡±
It had been some hours since he had left the tailor shop when, at last, the grand port gate opened. A colossal marble arch faced south to the Temperate Expanse. The waves calmed as the magics gathered. There was no sight in the dark quite so marvellous, yet during the daylight, some of the beauty had been lost to the crimson sky. The golden wisps, sent from the far south, circled the arch as they convalesced their power after the vast journey. The first sounds of the city beyond trickled through the tiny golden parting. A parade had begun in the Conclave, though no great pageantry had found the Duke¡¯s crossing at this short notice. The wisps gathered enough power within themselves to circle the great marble legs of the archway. They spiralled and bound between the historic trunks like drunken faeries. The first spark found the peak conductor, and the rest were soon sucked in behind. The final act came, and space found itself sundered within arch. To look behind the trunks would show naught but vast seas and grey clouds. To look within, though, would show a crystal empire. A city of pure elegance. A thousand trumpet playing men poured through the arch and greeted the simple Dukesmen. Magicians blew in overhead, carried on gusts of wind. Great beasts of iron flesh and ebony tusks dragged along a carriage with a hundred priests, mid prayer. Knights in gilded gold armour rode atop of pure white mares, carrying lances of play; not war. He watched a thousand young girls fawn and scream out for one knight in particular. A young lad, maybe twenty, with flowing black hair ¨C near down to his arse ¨C barely contained beneath a terribly designed helm. The ¡®armour¡¯ made sure to display his pretty young face in full. One meagre slash against the unprotected flesh would soon see an end to his popularity. He rode ahead of a strange pair. A young woman, red of hair and golden of eyes. He knew in the way she carried herself, and in the way the very air seemed to part before her, that this was the Champion of Gold. To her side, rode a much more disgruntled lad. He was closer to thirty, though not quite there yet. He wore light and agile armour and carried weapons of finesse and expertise. He had never seen the man but could hazard a guess at who it was. This must have been the fabled Champion of White. His deep-set black eyes contrasted his short cut white hair, but well matched his dark gaze. The boy was a killer, probably only there to protect the Golden Champion from herself.
She hopped from her beautiful mare and graced the ground with her heel. She wore much more practical clothing than the tales had led him to believe. They say she had a taste for the beautiful and excessive, though she wore a fairly simple outfit. A black pearl diadem seemed her only vice. He realised slowly that this scuffed golden band had begun a thousand wars and saved a million lives. ¡®The Pale Crown¡¯ it had been called in ages past. The god gear of the Golden Champion. It was so unassuming, almost too humble for the direct touch of the Goddess of Gold, the mother of Marash.
She took a young girl into her arms and laughed with the adoring crowd. She wasn¡¯t basking in their admiration, but mirroring it. She seemed to return in full every joyous glance and every heartfelt admittance of adoration.
Amell nearly found himself swept up in it all, that was until the next group came through the gate, and everything seemed to grow much darker.
The Veytors came as an invading army. They marched in black leathers and grey cloth. They marched in absolute sync, each thousand footfalls sounded as one. They, in unison, sang their dark prayer to their just goden. Veytor, the lesser goden of truth; the patron of the inquisition. Each man, a zealot. Each blade, a blade of the gods. One army, one will; the eradication of the infidels, the intolerable, and the heretical. In other words, Amell Fielder.
¡°Who''s that?¡± A woman asked to his side. She pointed out to a precession of Maester Veil¡¯s own. Not nearly as grand, not nearly as ornate, but infinitely more important. A small army of crimson brigandine. Halberds and spears. At their head rode three bannermen, and three vanguards. He knew the woman at the left. Sasha, the bishop of steel. The one to declare his mountain as Champion. In the middle was a little man he didn¡¯t know, though the man carried himself as a sergeant would. He rode his horse without pageantry or style, like a man who had rode one campaign too long. That could only leave his destiny to their right. A simple brow mare came into view, and two candidates for his mountain rode atop. One, the elder, wore strange armour. The likes, he had never seen. It belonged on no soldier for it covered no vitals. She seemed absolutely horrified at the vast crowd around her, could this have been the fresh legend?
Behind the clearly elder, sat ¨C or more so slumped ¨C the younger. White hair matted and tangled over the sleeping girl. If he didn¡¯t know any better, Amell would have assumed her to be hung over. She clung one arm to the elder, and the other to a strange tome, almost as if it were her first born babe.
Amell made his way through the crowd. As much as he hated being so close to the Veytors, he needed to get a closer look at these supposed Champions. He hoped his new disguise, as well as his face plated helm, would keep his identity secret a little while longer.
At the fore of the crowd, he stood like a monstrous vanguard. It had been a long time since he had been so thoroughly surrounded by so many feverous chants and cries. It was not an experience he had missed, though it allowed him his inspection. The young girls were close enough to strike from here.
He knew from there, which of them must have been the Champion. It wasn¡¯t by the way she held herself, like she of Gold, nor the warrior¡¯s gaze like he of White; but by her marked flesh. A ghostly sparrow fluttered across her hand and over the deep purple gemstone that seemed a part of her being. He saw the dozen scars she bore with the pride of youth. He saw the fear in her amethyst eyes, and the blood she still hadn¡¯t managed to purge from her icy hair. She rode without the reigns, a feat he couldn¡¯t imagine in such a wild crowd. One hand held the shaft of her iron wood spear, the other clung to the thigh of she who must have been her younger sister by her looks. The two shared a face, and little else. The elder wrapped her arms in tattooed chains and beastly scars. The younger wrapped herself in fake silk and pretty jewels. The elder shaved the sides of her white mane, the younger let hers flow freely to her hips.
The bishop barked some orders at the duo, though the crowd precluded eavesdropping. He realised he would need some way of taking her attention, though it wouldn¡¯t be easy from within the Conclave.
¡°I guess I''ll see you soon, Sparrow.¡±
Chapter Eight: Abhorrent Answers.
Chapter Eight: Abhorrent Answers.
All that had been, had been poor. All that was, was perfect. There were traces of starlight in the marble pillars. Ambrosia carried on the uncorrupted air. Ashtik Sai-Weleg, she who was named Sparrow-Knight, the Champion of Black and the harbinger of what comes next, stepped forth alone. Her single footfall echoed through the vast hall. She could almost see the sound of it in the otherwise undisturbed air. She saw her shaky breath bound between the great banners that hung from the walls. The centre most, a sheet of pure gold, dangled without motion beneath the cathedral''s dome. Sunlight poured in from the south, though Ash looked north, and saw the crescent moon through the stained glass. She took another step towards her inevitable fate and saw before her, some better creature. Flamed hair, and speckled skin. Golden eyes and glowing smile. It was what a woman was supposed to be, to the minds of the gods. She stood as though she weighed no more than a feather, yet she beamed as though carrying the mass of the sun.
¡°They are unready, Sparrow.¡± She sang in whispered words. The noise didn¡¯t echo, nor did it disturb the air as Ash had done. She seemed to belong in this divine place, perhaps she was the altar at its focus?
¡°Then what am I to do?¡± Ash asked as lowly, and meekly, as she could manage. The woman raised a holy hand and sprung a horde of servants and lessers, seemingly from the very ether. They circled Ash like vultures to a ruptured carcass before, all as one, they fell upon their hands and knees before her. They offered Ashtik their prayers and servitude at the whim of this Golden greater.
¡°Rest, for now. Explore the conclave. It is truly beautiful at this time of year. Show your sister the sights while the mothers have Satra brief them.¡± The she breathed through golden lips.
The servants would have carried Ash, that she might not sully herself with the cobble and dirt, had she not begged them to leave her. The silver doors shut her out of the conclave and she made back for her gifted horse.
Evara lay in a small mound of hay, clearly still writhing from the feast she had enjoyed three days past. So drunken had she been that the hangover still persisted in force, even all these long miles later. Ash bundled the child up in a great cloak and aided her atop of the horse, despite Ev¡¯s grunted protest.
¡°You can¡¯t still be this bad.¡± Ash laughed as her sister struggled to balance atop of the mare.
¡°I hate wine,¡± was all Evara could manage. She slumped her head against Ash¡¯s back as the two rode into the city of divinity.
To be completely honest, the city was something of a disappointment to Ashtik. The central chapel was everything she could ever dream of; but the city itself was naught more than Duke¡¯s crossing with strange architecture. They carried on down what seemed to be the main road of the northern quarter. Houses piled higher than she had ever seen. Instead of the burrows in the grown, like those of Maester Veil, or the stone carved and wooden framed houses of Meomi across the border; these houses were made of hardened blocks of reddish clay. Oak struts marked the corners of every building. Some buildings even bridged over the road, supported by finely cast steel bars. The novelty of suspended houses and shops stripped the slightly claustrophobic feeling of being completely surrounded on all sides.
A particularly tall building held a sign on the front, though Ash couldn¡¯t read the text. She nudged her sleeping sister and pointed to the post.
¡°It just says ¡®inn¡¯.¡± Ev whimpered before falling back to her restless sleep.
¡°Good, let¡¯s get you some food.¡± Ash said.
A post at the inn¡¯s door held a station for her horse. She wrapped the mare¡¯s rein around the slick wooden post and helped Ev to her feet.
¡°Twelve plates for a room.¡± A grizzled old man shouted from behind his bar as the pair entered. Ash lumped her sister at an empty table and tore a small velvet pouch from her blade belt. She poked within and drew forth a silver disk and handed it over.
¡°Luxury suite?¡± He chuckled.
¡°Just... look after her.¡± Ash said and the old man set his sight on Evara. ¡°If anyone looks at her funny-¡±
¡°Cut their cocks off.¡± He darkly interrupted her, brandishing a cleaver and a wicked look.
¡°Exactly. Another disk if she¡¯s happy when I get back.¡± Ash offered, showing the man another silver disk.
¡°Right, I''ll put some food on for the two of you.¡± He sniffed the air as two young men entered and sat far from Ev.
¡°Not for me, though I¡¯m sure she¡¯d be glad for a double portion. But I¡¯ll take two cups of the house best, thank you.¡± Ash smiled. He poured the only ale the house held into two surprisingly fresh-looking cups. Ash took them with a nod and sat to Ev¡¯s side.
¡°Drink that.¡± She warmly ordered.
¡°Is it poisoned?¡± Ev asked. She lay with her head against the table and her hair sprawled out across it.
¡°Yup, nightingale potion.¡± Ash laughed, taking a swig. ¡°It¡¯ll put an end to your suffering, and everything else - come to think of it.¡±
¡°Yay.¡± Ev groaned. She finally rose her head, though her body stayed slumped against the table and her fringe had taken the shape of a violent tsunami. She dragged her hand over to the mug with a powerful effort and lifted it to her lips with all the will of a great warrior.
She spat it as soon as she tasted it. She sputtered as though liquid flame drowned her tongue. It was the most energy Ash had seen of her since the feast.
¡°Why would you give me ale?¡± She cried, falling back to the table.
¡°Stitching a stab wound, as dad would call it.¡± Ash laughed with her full belly. She took a half gulp of her own and pushed the mug closer to Ev.
¡°What?¡± Ev groaned. She managed a little rise and rested her heavy head against the mug, though she avoided drinking.
¡°Stitching a stab, the cure for the ailment is a littler version of the ailment.¡± Ash explained. She ran a hand over Ev¡¯s fringe and patted it down over her steel little eyes. ¡°Heh, Ale-ment.¡± Ash chuckled.
¡°Dads an idiot, and so are you.¡± Ev whined. She drew a breath with all the gravity of a death rattle before she pinched her nose shut and drank a heavy gulp.
¡°Love you too, Ev.¡± Ash giggled. She stood and gave her darling sister a kiss on her cheek before mounting her spear to her back.
¡°Die.¡± Ev coughed as the drink began its magic. She turned to Ash and watched her ready to leave. ¡°We¡¯re going?¡± She asked.
¡°No, I got you a room upstairs. The owner is making you some food, then I want you to sleep this off. I¡¯ll be back in a couple of hours. If there are any issues, tell the owner and he¡¯ll... cut them off at the stem.¡± Ash said.
¡°No, don¡¯t go. I¡¯ll come with you.¡± Ev whispered. She seemed to try and stand, but the effort lacked drive, and her legs lacked capacity. She remained uselessly sat at the table with no argument but her big pleading eyes.
¡°Sleep, Ev. I won¡¯t be long. I promise.¡± Ash insisted, kissing Evara on her forehead and rounding a hand across her little cheeks.
Ashtik left her young sister in the care of the innkeeper and made off for the city. She did not wander aimlessly. She sought a smithy. The baron had granted her a rather large stipend for her journey to the Conclave, and she intended to make full use of it while she still could. She doubted the gold and silver would be of much use once she returned to the woods.
Unlike the inn, Ash needed no skill in literacy to sniff out the smithy. Black smoke pillared high, a dozen master crafted armours lay at the display, the sound of clashing iron rang out for miles and it didn¡¯t hurt that a great wooden anvil hung from the doorway. The building was of the same style as the others, though it was much more exposed to the elements. Two parts split the building, the forge; and the sellers. She made for the open-air shopfront and stood in the one-man que behind a strange man in strange dress.
¡°Please, master Toblik!¡± The strange man before her pled. He was a fairly short man, though still a head above her, and surprisingly well built. It wasn¡¯t a warrior¡¯s build, closer to the build of the smith¡¯s sons that she had lost in the clearing. He wore thick leather pads, like those of a smith only these seemed more tailored for everyday use.
¡°Sujin, was it?¡± The forge master sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
¡°Yes, master Toblik!¡± The shorter man enthused, nearly bouncing in place.
¡°Well, Sujin,¡± the forger said as he leant closer to the other man, ¡°piss off.¡±
¡°But mas-¡± The shorter man insisted, or so he tried.
¡°Look, kid. You¡¯re talented but for the sake of Taeva¡¯s bountiful tits, listen to me! I don¡¯t need an apprentice!¡± He slowly, though clearly, said. It was blatant that the older man was placing all of his will into remaining calm, though his will was quickly draining. ¡°Yes, you young mae.¡± The forger finally said, dismissing the other man with a sideways glance.
¡°Oh, th- thank you, sir.¡± Ash awkwardly stammered. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to look at the scorned apprentice as she slid past him.
¡°I¡¯m sorry about that, I hate swearing in front of customers.¡± The forger shared in her awkward demeanour for a moment but quickly dismissed the mood. ¡°So, what can I do for you, Sai-Weleg?¡±
¡°Oh, I¡¯m surprised you know that I¡¯m a huntress.¡± Ash nearly whispered. Her eyes danced across the assortment of arms and armours. The shelves of curiosities and magical runes. She even noticed a dusty little tome in the corner of the room. She scanned every detail of every curio in the building, but never so much as glanced at the forger before her.
¡°Of course, I¡¯m a northern lad myself. Toblik Jai-Hael, at your service. So, what can I get for you? Some new armour, or maybe a bow?¡± Toblik offered. He swung an arm above him, where a series of leather chest plates were pinned to the high wall. They came in all kinds of fashions. One was a single piece of boiled leather, studded with iron. Another seemed closer to a coat as it dangled much too low for someone of her build. The middle of the armour was missing, so Ash assumed it was for wearing over some kind of steel cuirass. Aside them both was a male version of the armour she wore, only in dark green rather than red. The male armour lacked the wrist pads meant for female archers and seemed to exaggerate its figure significantly more. The belly was still exposed, as it was with her own, and it clearly prioritised comfort over protection in most places.
¡°I was wondering how much a full set up would be.¡± She meekly asked.
¡°Armour, dirk and a bow?¡± Toblik guessed.
¡°Ah, no.¡± Ash stuttered. ¡°I use a spear, and I have a dirk. I was thinking armour, spear and travel pack.¡±
¡°Well, a set of basic leathers will be two disks; a spear will be twelve plates, and the travel pack will be ten. Let''s call it three silvers.¡± He decided. Ash tore the pouch again and rustled through it, she had promised her last silver to the inn keep.
¡°I only have gold.¡± She awkwardly chuckled. He peaked into her pouch as she continued ruffling through it.
¡°Gods, put that away child!¡± The forger urgently whispered. He covered the pouch with his hands and pushed it closer into her.
¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Ash shouted, she had no idea what she could have done to cause offence but she recoiled from his touch and nearly dropped the pouch.
¡°Gods mae, where did a huntress get so much gold? Did you slay a dragon?¡± Toblik questioned, but she barely heard him. Blood rushed to her ears and seemed to almost drown out all other noises.
¡°The... baron gave it to me.¡± She eked.
¡°For what?¡± He asked, his curiosity seemed to wain and guilt began to grip him. He could see how poorly she had taken him raising his voice, even if it was to help her.
¡°I killed the bandits.¡± She answered,
¡°Killed the bandits?¡± He repeated. Confusion dripped from his gaze as he appraised her like some tool fresh from the forge. ¡°No...¡± He finally whispered in utter disbelief. ¡°You? Are you the Sparrow-Knight?¡±
Ash simply nodded in response, she clung as tightly as she could to the little pouch, though gold and bronze live much too cold to be comforting fellows.
Toblik chuckled to himself, ¡°incredible.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She repeated quietly.
¡°No, I¡¯m sorry! You can clearly take care of yourself; I shouldn¡¯t have urged you.¡± He said with absolute sincerity, despite the little chuckle he loosed before speaking.
¡°Okay,¡± Ash shakily started, ¡°about the armour?¡±
¡°Yes, yes, of course! Listen, this shit is no good for you. I¡¯m a master forger, people come from around the world for my equipment. Allow me to forge you a set of steel armour for the same price as the leather... and- and I''ll even craft a one-of-a-kind spear, just for you. No extra cost!¡± He said with glee bounding from every syllable.
¡°I can¡¯t wear steel,¡± Ash meekly protested, ¡°It¡¯s too loud and heavy; plus, it rusts.¡±
¡°Not this steel!¡± He proudly declared. ¡°I¡¯m not some mere blacksmith, I¡¯m a master forger! I can make steel lighter than a feather, quieter than an orgasm at church. I can make it waterproof and even self-heating, for those wintertime hunts.¡± He said, though he wasn¡¯t speaking to her anymore. His rambling declarations seemed more so plans and blueprints, formed in the mind but not yet material.
¡°Why would you do that?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Because you¡¯re the Sparrow-Knight! They say you¡¯re the Champion of Black! If you¡¯re to be fighting back the darkness, you should be fighting with the best gear in the world.¡± He explained.
¡°Fighting back the darkness?¡± Ash confusedly repeated. He didn¡¯t seem to notice, instead turning his plans to her spear.
¡°A detachable head, with a chain attached for ranged attacks! I could put a small explosive rune behind to send the tip flying...¡± The rest of his rambles spoke of specifications and possible material composites, though she couldn¡¯t parse a word of it.
¡°Okay, I''ll pay you for it now then.¡± She awkwardly said, though he didn¡¯t care. Ash drew a single gold piece and placed it on his counter.
¡°That¡¯s way too much.¡± He insisted. ¡°I said three silver.¡±
¡°That was for the basics.¡± She reminded,
¡°No, that was for the armour weapons and gear. I never specified the quality in that contract.¡± He confidently declared.
¡°I only have golds.¡± She sighed. Her eyes fell back to the dusty tome at the corner of the room and he noticed.
¡°It¡¯s an old magic book. For novice magicians.¡± He explained.
¡°Nobody¡¯s bought it?¡± She asked.
¡°Nobody in the conclave is a novice, they either aren¡¯t allowed to do magic; or they are far beyond the skills of that book.¡±
¡°I could take it too, for the gold.¡± She suggested.
¡°It¡¯s not worth much, but sure. You didn¡¯t strike me for the magician kind.¡± He chuckled.
¡°It¡¯s not for me, it''s for my little sister. She¡¯d love to learn, I''m sure.¡±
¡°Oh, well I don¡¯t know much about the magics but I¡¯m pretty sure there¡¯s a reason you never hear about self-taught magicians.¡± He nervously laughed.
¡°She¡¯s clever, she¡¯ll figure it out.¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Very well,¡± Toblik nodded, ¡°why don¡¯t you pick something else out for her, too. Does she use daggers or bows?¡±
¡°She¡¯s a good archer.¡±
¡°Then here, take this.¡± He pulled from the wall, a dawn birch short bow, stringed with a strange crystal wire. It was wrapped in a silver coated leather band. Ash took it up and strung it, drawing it back to test the pull weight. It was a fairly heavy bow for Evara, but one she could grow into as she aged. She slowly let the bow straighten and placed it back on the table.
¡°Thank you, you are a kind man.¡± Ash smiled.
¡°Of course.¡± He humbly bowed his head. ¡°It is the least I can do, but please; take care of yourself, mae. There is a storm coming and you are at its eye.¡±
¡°The eye of the storm is the calmest part.¡± She chuckled.
¡°So long as you can keep pace. Fall behind and it¡¯ll consume you.¡± He warned.
¡°Callum!¡± He shouted to the forge without any further regard for Ashtik. ¡°Take the shop, I¡¯ve got work to do!¡±
The door to the homely little inn creaked open and Ash saw within that half a battle was taking place. She readied her spear, only to see no blood had been spilt.
¡°Girl! You¡¯re back!¡± The innkeeper shouted. Between him and her stood three terrifying figures. They wore the slate robes of grim monks over disguised armour. She had seen the army of these men as she entered the city. Veytors, Satra had called them.
¡°They sought to enter your room, I sought to chop their cocks off.¡± He spat at the grim men.
¡°Why did you seek to enter my room?¡± Ash demanded, raising her spear to the deathly calm Veytors.
¡°Sparrow-Knight, a dangerous name. Do you know who it is you pretend to be, girl?¡± The eldest of the men spoke as you would to a rabid dog. He watched her from above his upturned nose and held his hand together as though in prayer.
¡°I pretend at nothing, monk. Answer me, why did you seek to enter my room?¡± Ash demanded with the confidence of battle blood.
¡°We offer you no harm, girl. Your presence is demanded at the Conclave. Come, allow the truth to free you.¡± The man said with poorly veiled hatred.
¡°Free me of what?¡±
¡°The truth offers many freedoms, and many chains. The truth of your name is to be unveiled and, should the truth make a liar of you; freedom from the physical shall be granted to she who makes mockery of the gods.¡± The Veytor monk smiled. ¡°We are but the raven sent to guide your path, not the hawk sent to be executioners. Not yet, that is.¡± He said, growing a wicked smirk.
¡°Then let''s go.¡± Ash said, stowing her spear. The three men all bowed deeply to her and to the inn keeper before departing.
¡°Thank you.¡± Ash whispered to the man.
¡°Be careful with them bastards, child.¡± The keeper said with a furrowed brow.
¡°I will be. Please look after my sister until I return. Here, take this for now.¡± Ash pled, quickly handing him two golden pieces. The man¡¯s eyes grew larger than his skull ought to have allowed, and his jaw seemed to unhinge for a moment.
¡°She will be as my own blood.¡± He swore.
With it, Ash left along with the Veytor monks on their southward path to answers.
All that had been, had been poor. All that was, was perfect. The day would end as it had started, in awe of the gods that so wished her enslavement. She took her steps alone, leaving the Veytors outside the hallowed hall. The sun shone now from the north, and near blinded her in rainbow-stained glory. The light shining through the stained glass cast down the image of the divine pantheon. She could name scarce few; Taeva sat atop a direwolf, bow in hand. Hevestiel bowed before the Golden Goddess who reigned above them all. She saw the goden of sailors, Sjalgreef, set sail across a ray of light. A dark mass of blind justice was cast to the far end of the hall, Veytor; the goden of truth. His grim gaze seemed to follow her as she marched the near endless pathway.
¡°Stop there.¡± A man called, the only man that stood in the hall. White hair to match her own, though his gaze was much more severe; much more commanding. He forded the gap between Ashtik and the mothers, blade in hand. He circled Ash, his rapier scraped the ground around her as he checked every inch of her over. ¡°What is your name?¡± He finally asked in a voice as deep as a flaming bellow.
¡°Ashtik.¡± Was the best she could manage. Everything in that place unsteadied her. The way the air seemed so fresh, yet so unmoving; stagnant. The way the council of mothers leered at her in distain from behind their great table. The way this white-hair seemed to both obsess over her body, and yet hate her fully for being within his gaze.
¡°Be you a dove shielded in hawk¡¯s feather¡¯s; or be you the hawk, feigning wings of peace?¡± One of the distant mothers called across the infinite distance.
¡°I don¡¯t know what that means... Mother.¡± Ash replied. The man stepped ahead of her and stole her sight. He tapped his blade at the ground some paces ahead of her. It was a silent order, one she followed before thought could give her hesitance.
¡°You fear, child?¡± Another mother asked.
¡°Of course she fears, Yenan!¡± Sneered a familiar voice. It was she who acted as muse to every flame of the world. She who could sing songs to the soon calming winds. She who would teach the sun to crown, and the moon to light the night. She stormed across the hall and came upon the white-hair. A whispered word brought his blade to its sheath and allowed her to bare her own weapon. A pure and perfect smile that span from star to star. The whole galaxy could have resided between her rosy, freckled cheeks.
¡°I greet you, Ashtik.¡± She said in tones of music and honey. Had a songbird chirped at that moment, it might have taken a vow of silence as penance for lessening the beauty of the sound.
This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.¡°I- Hello... Ashtik-¡± Ash stammered and stuttered and everything inelegant when placed before this divinity.
¡°Bid each noise be still. Bid peace to the torrent within, that the flood may settle, and the woman might be known...¡± The ray of light giggled as easily as though the words were thoughtless. Ash had no thought as to what she had said, nor could she as much as comprehend a word of it, but a calm encompassed her. It surrounded her and filled her. It was the greatest bed, with even greater company. It was feathers and tickles. It was love and passion. A word brought calm, but a gaze brought something much more. Amethyst locked to pure, elated, gold.
¡°While you stand here, Ashtik, you may leave the weight of the world behind; but I¡¯m afraid you will always carry the weight of the wise. There is no alleviation to be granted in that battle.¡± She whispered. The Golden woman took Ash¡¯s hand into her own and dragged her forward, towards the mothers. She made the journey a happy one, each step was a step taken with purpose and pride. Each noise rippled and shifted the air into the correct place. No longer was she the burden or the blunderer.
She was encircled by her betters. The closest connections to divinity surrounded and judged her. They saw, from their high table, her every scab and insecurity. They could see it written bare across her face. The time she had tore her shirt before the smith¡¯s son. All the time she had tried to show off in front of her father and earned a fresh scar as a result. Every depraved and cruel thought. Every perversion and hidden desire. They saw it all, or; they must have. That must have been the reason they made her feel so small, and themselves seem so large. It was no sooner than the Golden Champion had left her hands embrace, that she was stood bare as a babe before these judging councillors.
¡°Hath thou a claim to the divine?¡± A mother to her right asked.
¡°What?¡± Ash begged. The woman aside her, wearing a robe of a brighter hue, spoke next.
¡°Art thou marred and marked by sparrows and blackened dreams.¡± The mother asked.
¡°I don¡¯t know what you are talking about.¡±
¡°You shall have it spoken plain; a Champion of Black is your stolen claim. A warrior of legend, made in a day; prove your might, keep your better at bay.¡±
¡°They mean me...¡± The white-hair lightly said. Ash span to look at him, but instead met his fist. It tumbled her in an instant. A seething pain, a fresh bruise on her cheek. She could feel the droplet of blood make its way across her vined tattoo. ¡°I¡¯m your better, try and keep me at bay.¡±
He jumped at her, throwing a kick to meet her, but she managed to roll away from his reach before he could connect. He wasted not an instant before rounding on her again. He flung out his back hand and she managed to dodge it by a hair. She had too little time, from her backfoot, to dodge his follow up attack. A fist landed beneath her ribs and lifted her from her toes. It tore the stagnant air from her lungs, but it wasn¡¯t enough. He rounded again, meeting his fist to her jaw, then again with a knee to her hip. She sprung out her arm in a wild attempt to push him away, but he seemed to react even before she had moved. He put himself in the perfect position to grab her wrist, twist it, and throw her into the mother¡¯s table.
¡°Admit the falsehood or deny the lie; change your destiny or be ready to die.¡± Another mother called.
¡°I- I didn¡¯t... lie.¡± Ash gasped through bloody teeth.
¡°You tricked the bishop of steel; you lied and forced her to kneel. Your act of legend, no more than a vicious crime; your blackened heart has no place amongst the truly sublime.¡±
Ash dragged down a burning breath and hopped from the table. ¡°Oh, shut the fuck up already.¡± She grunted before storming at the white-hair. She swung with pure malice. She tore her dirk from her boot and aimed to land it at his thigh, then his throat, then his eye. She slashed and tore, and thrusted and murdered with absolute hatred. Then it was done and she looked at her victim.
¡°You done?¡± The white-haired man smiled down to her as he stood towering, and utterly uninjured. She had yet to land a single blow. It did not deter her. She rounded and slashed a dozen more times, though each time he seemed to be in the exact right place to counterattack. She realised he wasn¡¯t fighting her, but toying with her. She slashed again, and again, and again, but each time he dodged and weaved and pushed her away.
For each slash missed, she grew in wrath. She could feel it fuelling her. Making her faster, stronger. She would miss one strike, but throw six more in the instant after, and she would miss all of them.
¡°Ooh, that one was close.¡± The cunt gibed through his painfully unbroken teeth. ¡°Alas, I have other things to do today.¡± He continued as he stepped past her lunge and wrapped his fingers around her throat. He lifted her overhead and threw her as far as he could. She crashed against a standing candle stick. The landing didn¡¯t seem to hurt at all. The adrenaline must have saved her the agony.
He made slow and mocking steps towards her as he drew his rapier from its pure white scabbard. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure.¡± He calmly mocked. She took his slow walk to make a plan. The candlestick was tall, as tall as her spear. She snapped the legs and left only the shaft, standing with it raised as a staff behind her back.
¡°It won¡¯t do you any good, trust me.¡± He sighed as he coiled back to attack. She managed to dash the blade aside with the pole before thrusting it into the ground and using it as leverage to vault backwards. She kept her distance from the man, and occasionally made swipes at him; though all attempts were meaningless.
¡°Enough of this, child!¡± He shouted, ripping the spear from her hands and diving towards her. The blade tore at her armour upon its first strike, but then he struck the tiny nick in the armour again, and again, and again. He managed to dig a hole directly through to her bare chest and he made his final strike as Ashtik screamed out at him.
The air was so still. So thoroughly undisturbed, unlike the old hags who sat around their table; admiring the Ashtik sized dent that had been placed within. They weren¡¯t looking at her. They must have lost interest in her execution. The Golden woman watched on, though. She clung to Ash¡¯s gaze as the blade came forth. It was a beauty of a weapon. White steel, stained red with her. Soon enough there would be no white left beneath all the red. She shifted her gaze up to her killer¡¯s. He looked so dispassionate, almost bored. He couldn¡¯t have seen her as anything more than a bug. He drew no pleasure from the fight as he stood there frozen in his thrust.
Frozen.
The specs of dust didn¡¯t fall to the ground as they sailed their wave of sunlight. The bead of sweat didn¡¯t drop from her nose. The tear didn¡¯t fall from Golden eyes, but they would fall from steel eyes. If she died here, what would become of the sister? Would they curse her as blood of the heretic? Would the Veytors come for her?
Why weren¡¯t they moving?
Ash¡¯s gaze fell to the swirling bands of energy at her left hand. Tentacles of purple and black lightning sprawled out and shattered the floor tiles. Her gauntlet was no longer in its little gem but sprawling out and writhing like some spreading tumour. She realised it was the only thing around her that moved, so she decided to shift a finger, then her wrist, then her hand, then her arm.
She moved it to the blade and shifted it aside. Then she wound back as far as she could and loosed the hardest punch she had ever given.
It was a crack of thunder, with the black lightning to back it. The cunt was sent back a half dozen paces, only, he forgot to take his teeth with him.
The sounds of him wailing and crying out in agony were as close to orgasmic as he had likely ever gotten a woman. She was ready to give him a hundred more punches like the last, until her legs gave out from under her, and the world turned dark.
¡°Ashtik?¡± A gentle summer wind begged. It made her name sound like a masterpiece. Like some universal love song, sang through the ages. She peeled her eyes open to find the tear-filled Golden woman fussing over her wound. She mumbled some incantation, and a divine warmth filled Ashtik. She felt her wounds fuse and her bones set. It was like Evara¡¯s power, only infinitely more potent.
¡°Do I get any of that?¡± A man groaned from the far end of the room.
¡°I¡¯ve been waiting twenty years for you to get a smack in the teeth, enjoy it while it lasts.¡± The woman spat back. Even angered, her voice was so calming. It could have sent Ash back to sleep, had she not remembered the fight for her life.
She jolted up as quickly as she could and scrambled for a weapon. When she found none, she instead turned to the Golden woman in hopes she could steal her weapon. She looked the woman over with no regard for proprietary and even span her around to see if she had hidden her blade at her back. The woman didn¡¯t resist but did let out a strangely shocked yelp.
¡°Bid each noise be still. Bid peace to the torrent within, that the flood may settle, and the woman might be known...¡± The woman whispered, and again, Ash was calm and happy. ¡°Come, Ashtik. You are safe, the trials are over. Nobody will hurt you anymore, I swear it on my life.¡± The woman said. Ash was yet in a daze from her battle, though something of the words registered within her. A mindless shuffle urged her on, and wordless voices carried in the space she parted. The textureless air, perfectly temperate to her skin, felt all too thick and all too thin. Then she was back in her seat of judgment, and the mothers returned to their arguments as though no deathly struggle had just been fought.
¡°It''s not possible.¡± The mother of crimson declared.
¡°It¡¯s self-evident!¡± The Golden Champion retorted as she helped Ash to sit in a wooden throne.
¡°It is a mistake.¡± The orange lady said with absolute surety.
¡°The only mistake is your treatment of the girl. Cast off your arrogance, mothers. This is a new day, for new minds. She is the usher of the dusk, and we are but mere candle lights acting as stars.¡± The Golden Champion said with the incomparable strength driven from purity, from righteousness. She turned her wrathful leer to a warm gaze as she looked to Ashtik.
¡°Ashtik, right? Can I call you Ash?¡± She whispered, no longer regarding the bickering mothers.
¡°Yes.¡± Ash managed to whisper though her pains.
¡°My name¡¯s Siobhan Fell,¡± the Golden beauty said, nearly matching Ash¡¯s whisper. ¡°Are you still hurt?¡±
¡°No.¡± Ash lied. The woman knelt before Ash and rested her arms on Ash¡¯s thigh. She smiled as her eyes lit with holy flame yet again, and Ash¡¯s wounds were made lesser.
¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ash.¡± Siobhan smiled. She forced Ash¡¯s gaze with a wordless glance. Her gentle hand moved her flowing wine-red hair aside and displayed something spectacular. At the corner of her neck, above a cluster of freckles and beneath her jaw, she presented the mark of golden flame. It seemed to flicker back and forth beneath her skin like a joyous candle in the wind.
¡°My mark.¡± She said with a dreamy sigh. She set her hair back over her neck and sat back on the floor before Ash. She didn¡¯t speak beyond it, but her searching eyes told Ash what she wanted. Ashtik held her left hand in her right and rubbed at the mark like some fresh ache. It was near complete now. What had been a smoky idea of a sparrow, now took flight across her hand. It seemed alive, if not aware. It fluttered in its silhouetted existence, uncaring of the woman in which it had made its world.
¡°She¡¯s beautiful.¡± Siobhan smiled, taking the marked hand into her own. ¡°But more than that, she''s real.¡±
¡°So, I really am a Champion?¡± Ash asked.
¡°You really are.¡± She smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±
¡°Sorry?¡± Ash repeated, it seemed an ominous thing for a ¡®fellow Champion¡¯ to say.
¡°The charters have been scoured and ensured; the Champion¡¯s council truly is complete. The Goden of your patronage is no Goden of the Pantheon.¡± Siobhan whispered.
¡°He¡¯s the forgotten Goden.¡± Ash said.
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°People keep telling me that¡¯s a bad thing. That I¡¯m some dark harbinger, the scion of darkness. I keep having dreams, every night, of death and empire. What does it mean?¡± Ash begged in whispered cries.
¡°There was a prophecy,¡± Siobhan began, ¡°it''s about you and what you¡¯ll do. Ashtik, it is not a happy prophecy. It does not have a happy ending.¡±
¡°What is the prophecy?¡± Ash asked. She had nearly forgotten that she and Siobhan weren¡¯t alone in the great hall, until the Golden Champion stood and walked to the council of mothers. Ash noticed the three empty seats directly before her, and Siobhan pointed to each. To the right, sat a seat of steel. Jagged blades and rounded armour. A crown of blooded daggers sat atop of it. To the middle, a sunburst throne. Golden and opulent in its material, though functional and meek in its design. To the left, sat a simple seat of black velvet. A coat of dust settled atop of it. It seemed as though none had taken to its arms in a very long time.
¡°Mothers, summon the trinity.¡± Siobhan ordered.
¡°Very well, Champion.¡± The crimson mother seethed. All came to prayer and summoned upon them, a silver shimmer. A strand, like a single ancient hair, joined between the mothers and connected them at their hearts.
She had expected some great spectacle. Instead, before her appeared in a blink, a woman with a gown of gold and eyes of steel. To her right, a woman with eyes of gold and a gown of steel. No mother came to be at their left.
¡°Siobhan.¡± Said the mother at the centre.
¡°My lady of Gold,¡± Siobhan bowed, ¡°you know why you are summoned?¡±
¡°Probably.¡± The Golden divine chuckled. ¡°Hello, my lovely,¡± she shone at Ash. ¡°Am I to Assume you are Ashtik Sai-Weleg?¡±
¡°I- Yes.¡± Ash said as proudly as she could, though it sounded utterly pathetic in comparison. ¡°You know of me?¡±
¡°Oh, yes.¡± The divine chuckled. ¡°You are quite the topic in the halls of the gods.¡± She said as though it were the same as being gossiped about in the village.
¡°The hall of the gods?¡± Ash repeated in awe.
¡°Ash,¡± Siobhan whispered, ¡°the trinity remain in the embrace of their patrons, unless they are needed here.¡±
¡°Then you know my supposed patron?¡± Ash realised.
¡°I... do not. Nobody, not man nor goden, can know your patron. My lady, the Golden Goddess, is his own progeny; and yet she knows near as little of him as I or you.¡± The divine admitted.
¡°Then... what? Why has he chosen me?¡± She begged.
¡°That is... the issue.¡± She hesitantly answered. ¡°He did not.¡±
¡°But they said I¡¯m his Champion?¡± Ash insisted.
¡°You are; but you are not his chosen.¡± She sighed. ¡°There was an order from your patron, bestowed upon your previous guardian goddess.¡± She begun in her explanation.
¡°I didn¡¯t have a previous guardian.¡± Ash corrected.
¡°All mortals have a guardian god. The gods often battle for mortals of worth, Taeva ¨C she of the hunt ¨C won the battle for your soul. I believe the goddess of beauty and the goden of silence both strove against her for your claim.¡± She explained.
¡°They fought over me like a toy?¡± Ash grunted.
¡°They fought to prove who was most capable of protecting you.¡± The divine calmly corrected. ¡°But that is not of consequence.¡± She continued, ¡°Taeva was ordered to bestow upon his chosen, the Black mark. It seems that she did not aim for you.¡±
¡°The goddess of accuracy and hunting, missed?¡± The White-haired man laughed.
¡°Be silent, Aarov.¡± The steel clad divine ordered from the Golden¡¯s side. He bowed his head to her and stepped away.
¡°But, yes; she did.¡± The Golden divine laughed.
¡°Then who was chosen?¡± Ash demanded.
¡°There were many prophecies of who the first Champion of Black was to be. We now know which of them was supposed to be true; With fluttered wing and burning hellfire shall the first Champion of the forgotten, cast out the darkness. With a healing heart and a glance of steel shall the first Chosen of the Dreamer cast out the dark one. With pure sorrow begotten by pure love shall the stars be freed and the winds made unstill.¡±
There was power to the words, to the prophecy. The world shook underfoot as each syllable was uttered. The vile will wrought fear from all amongst them. None had expected it, even the divines feared the violence of it. The dome cracked above them and a thousand shards of glass fell like drops of rain. They cut, and sliced and tore at everyone there, but not Ashtik. It seemed the glass feared her as the mother¡¯s feared her patron.
The chaos of dark fate subdued and settled. The panic of first blood simmered, but didn¡¯t boil over. She watched this crowd of her betters as they picked shards of rainbowed glass from their flesh and garbs.
¡°What was that?¡± Ash finally asked.
¡°A sign.¡± The divine choked. ¡°Ashtik, there are other prophesies. Tales of war and darkness. Of a consuming abyss, and the one person who can stop it.¡±
¡°Me? How can it be me? You said it yourself; I wasn¡¯t chosen! I¡¯m not the chosen one!¡± Ash cried.
¡°No, but you are the Champion. You are all we have.¡± The steel divine sighed.
A rush of wind stripped her breath and tore at her hair. The strand of silver broke from the mothers and the divines were naught but echoes in the halls.
¡°Ash.¡± Siobhan whispered, though she didn¡¯t get any closer. She looked close to tears yet again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but there¡¯s more.¡±
¡°More?¡± Ash repeated.
¡°We-¡± Gold stammered, though she choked on her words. She made another attempt to explain but failed yet again.
¡°We have to hunt you.¡± The white-haired man called out. Both Ash and Siobhan turned to him. He still mauled with the single bloody bruise at his cheek. It seemed pain was a new feeling for him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Black. I really am.¡± He continued.
¡°What is he talking about?¡± Ash called out, spinning to Siobhan.
¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ash. We don¡¯t have a choice.¡± She whimpered.
¡°It¡¯ll be me and the Veytors.¡± The White-hair added.
¡°Who the fuck even are you?¡± Ash shouted.
¡°I¡¯m Aarov Martins, the Champion of White.¡± He answered without pride. ¡°I¡¯m the Champion killer.¡±
¡°Try it.¡± Ash spat, though it was blatantly a bluff.
¡°No!¡± Siobhan shouted. ¡°Not now! We will take every second of peace we can afford, and right now peace is cheap. White, behave. Ash, sit down.¡± She ordered. Ash sat without a thought and Aarov deigned to leave the room all together.
¡°Why must you hunt me?¡± Ash begged.
¡°Because you will be declared a heretic.¡± The crimson mother declared, just as vain and arrogant as she had been earlier.
¡°Why? I¡¯ve been confirmed!¡± Ash protested.
¡°You are the harbinger of the last day. The prophecy is not known to all, but enough understand what it means that you live.¡± The mother of azure continued.
¡°Should you be confirmed as a Champion, it would be the same as telling the people that the world is at an end.¡± The mother of lime added.
¡°Panic would grip the lands.¡± The orange mother declared.
¡°The prophecy would fulfil its own oath before any darkness could come about us.¡± Said she in the teal gown finished.
¡°But the world is ending! Surely, they should prepare? Surely helping me would be wiser than fighting me?¡± Ash cried, though she could see the decision had been made; that her pleas were worthless. ¡°You offer them a calm death rather than a chance to fight.¡± She realised.
¡°We offer them hope.¡± The lilac mother said in a frail voice.
¡°False hope.¡± She retorted.
¡°All hope is false, tis¡¯ the nature of the thing. It is faith in the unlikely, the impossible... You. So long as you live, the hope stands true.¡± Lilac said.
¡°Ash,¡± Siobhan whispered, ¡°I know it''s hard... But this is the only way. You will save the world; we¡¯ll make sure there¡¯s still a world to save.¡±
¡°This is insanity. Where would I even start?¡± Ashtik had to lower her voice as she spoke. Each plea came as a thunderbolt and shout. The mothers rose together and, in one silent flight, made for chamber¡¯s exit.
¡°We cannot know; ask of your fellows.¡± The crimson mother said with her back to Ashtik. ¡°Know this, Champion,¡± she whispered, ¡°we will support you as we can. Every chapel is yours to plunder. Every tithe is yours to relinquish. You shall not want for anything as you battle.¡±
¡°I¡¯m supposed to raid temples? I can¡¯t imagine the gods would be pleased with that, nor the worshipers.¡± Ash groaned.
¡°Tough.¡± Siobhan chuckled. ¡°Your quest is vital; the pride of some gods is irrelevant.¡±
Ash didn¡¯t see the mother''s leave. She didn¡¯t hear the great doors seal shut, nor did she notice as Aarov appeared at her back.
¡°Black.¡± He said as greetings. She spun to meet his gaze, half ready to loose an attack. He raised his hands in pre-emptive as a nearly apologetic smile caught his bloody cheeks.
¡°You.¡± Ash spat, backing a pace away.
¡°Play nice.¡± Siobhan ordered. She pressed Ash back into her splinter throne as the two Champions stood over her. ¡°Now that they¡¯re gone, we can talk frankly.¡± Siobhan sighed.
¡°About what?¡± Ash asked.
¡°About your plan.¡± Aarov answered. ¡°You need friends, allies and armies. I know where you can get all three.¡±
¡°Why would I trust you? Aren¡¯t you the one who¡¯s going to hunt me down?¡± Ash doubted.
¡°I¡¯m certainly supposed to.¡± He lazily laughed. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it would be wise to succeed. I¡¯ll lead the Veytors off your trail as best I can, but if they catch you, I¡¯ll have no choice but to fight you.¡±
¡°Just, listen to him, please Ash.¡± Siobhan said. She knelt at Ash¡¯s side and took her marked hand into her own.
¡°Look,¡± Aarov began with a sigh, ¡°you need to go somewhere that the Veytors can¡¯t go. Somewhere independent from the Conclave. Luckily, that somewhere exists. The Forgelands to the west.¡±
¡°The Veytors can¡¯t go there?¡± Ash questioned.
¡°Nah.¡± He simply replied.
¡°Thier fortress exists in the Bloodlands. Donaleaf ¨C the King of the Forgelands ¨C is at war with them.¡± Siobhan kindly elaborated.
¡°Right.¡± Aarov chuckled. ¡°Go there and build an army.¡±
¡°You make it sound so easy.¡± Ash groaned. Her face fell beneath her unmarked hand and the world seemed to spin around her. ¡°Why would this Donaleaf help me?¡± She finally asked.
¡°He¡¯s the Champion of the Forge.¡± Siobhan answered. ¡°And he¡¯s a good man. Once you prove yourself, he¡¯ll know that he needs to help you.¡±
Chapter Nine: Final Farewell
To walk with fate is a strange feeling. To know destiny parts from your every step. To know a thousand years of death and strife dog at your heels. To see the entirety of heaven in a single wildflower, and to know it was planted a lifetime ago in hopes that you might simply pluck it. Sparrow-Knight, Black Champion, Fateful arbitrator; so many new titles, yet the same worn-out old boots. The path before her seemed so empty, though a thousand passers-by obstructed it. She did not march forth. She trod as gently as she ever had, as to not disturb the cobbled streets any more than needed.
It was a short path back to the inn. One filled with formless thought and boundless angst. She passed a tavern filled with the baron¡¯s soldiers. They laughed and cheered; drank and danced. One even called out to her, though his voice failed to pierce her haze. She carried on completely unaware of his beckons.
A chapel stood tall across the street. Three statues stood atop of it. Simple and carved of abundant wood, though as majestic as anything holding the visage of a god ought to be. In the centre, she of Gold. The kind and gentle form of the all-mother. A flow of jet-stained wood marked her free-flowing hair, and a thin sheet of golden leaf gave her a cold metal gaze. As always, to the right of her stood she of Steel. The patron of purpose, bloody as she was. Her grim face was masked beneath a full steel helm, though she wore a heavy cloth robe across her shoulders. A parchment, stained red, fluttered in her hands and battled the breeze. To the left of the duo was the formless being that had claimed Ashtik. No carver could capture his cold facade, so a mound of ashen wood took the form of a man¡¯s shadow. The mass atop of it could have been a head but lacked eyes or even a nose. The outstretched mounds could have been arms, or tendrils, but seemed to her like branches on a flame scorched tree.
Everything bore his suggestion. Shadows watched her walk. Sparrows seemed enthralled by her mark. Folk walking past her seemed to look with four eyes; two of their own, and two of his. Ash cast off the feeling as well as she could while she made her short journey back.
The mouldy wooden door eked open to a near silent inn. Three men sat in the corner, nursing their cups, while a scattering of others sat around. A pair of young lovers made eyes from the shadows, and a well-built young man scoffed down a bowl of fragrant pork stew with a frantic effort.
¡°Child,¡± the innkeeper nodded from behind his bar. ¡°Are you well?¡±
Ash scanned over the inn one more time, finding no trace of the Veytors within.
¡°Yes, thank you,¡± Ash whispered. She slid along to the bar and took a seat before the innkeeper. ¡°Was there any trouble?¡±
¡°None,¡± he grunted. The old man clashed his cleaver down and tore it across a chicken leg. He managed to cut straight through the bone with the single swipe.
¡°My sister sleeps?¡±
¡°Dunno'',¡± he simply replied. ¡°Hasn¡¯t left her room since you left.¡±
¡°That¡¯s unlike her,¡± Ash whispered.
¡°Being threatened by Veytors tends to sour yer¡¯ mood,¡± he said, cutting again into his chicken.
¡°True enough,¡± she sighed.
¡°Can I get you anything?¡± The keeper asked.
Ash grunted in approval, ¡°Whatever¡¯s strong enough to burn.¡±
¡°The only spirits allowed here are in the sepulchres. Rest of us gotta rough it with posset ale and sugar wine. I think the tavern up the road has some piss weak vodka imports, though,¡± he said as he poured her a tankard of ale.
¡°What¡¯s posset ale?¡± She asked. She took the large metal tankard from his hands.
¡°It''s something old women like to drink during the winter. Hot milk and ale.¡±
¡°Hot milk and ale?¡± Ash gagged. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it curdle?¡±
¡°Yup,¡± he sighed. ¡°Makes it creamy. Supposed to be quite nice, but I¡¯d never touch it.¡±
¡°Me neither,¡± she grunted from beneath her drink. She drank it all too quickly. The tankard, near as large as she was, had almost been emptied in a single breath.
¡°Slow it lass,¡± the keeper said. ¡°Plenty of day yet to go.¡±
¡°I know,¡± she sighed, taking another swig and slamming the freshly empty cup down. ¡°Just preparing myself for this next bit.¡± She rose from her seat and made away from the bar.
¡°Oh, and here,¡± she called out, throwing him two gold disks from across the room. He hid them quickly and for the first time, he smiled.
¡°Take care of yourself, lass,¡± he called out.
Three meagre smacks called out against the shabby wooden door. Tiny footfalls pattered within. A shadow cast under the door as Evara stood behind the threshold.
¡°Who is it?¡± Evara called out. She took a strange tone. She spoke deeply, as though mimicking the voice of an older woman; though the true result suggested a thirteen-year-old boy stood behind the door.
¡°The grand Champion,¡± Ash sardonically replied.
¡°Ash!¡± Ev called as she swung the door open.
It was gorgeous within. Truly the ¡®luxury suite¡¯. Where the mouldy wooden door suggested a dilapidated interior, Ash realised it was a disguise. Camouflage to protect the luxury within. A hearth lay beneath an ornate silver mirror. Velvet curtains draped over the oak bed frame. A plush carpet lay across the entire floor. Even a wooden bathtub sat at the far end. Ev stood in some clearly borrowed robes, her hair soaked and flowing down her clothes. She ushered Ashtik into the room and Ash quickly removed her muddy boots before they could stain the carpet. She sat atop of the king-sized bed and noticed Evara¡¯s tome open at her side.
¡°You¡¯ve been writing?¡± Ash noted.
Ev blushed as she noticed her sister¡¯s probing. ¡°A little,¡± she awkwardly whispered.
¡°What does it say?¡± Ash asked. She tried to parse the meaning of even a single word. It was of no use; she had gathered more meaning from chicken tracks than she could from these ornate markings. Evara lay on her back beside Ash and took the tome into her hands.
¡°Does the sheer act of greatness preclude goodness? Can one be both good and great? My experience is little, though my readings are vast. In many men of renown have I found a commonality. A tipping point where directed goodness became terrible greatness; where they made a choice and decided that their goal was more important than their hearts. I worry that my sister will make such a choice, should she be ordained. I worry history shall remember her, and that memory shall be written in blood,¡± Evara recited.
¡°It''s never jolly with you, is it?¡± Ash giggled.
¡°Would you rather I write some smut? It seems all anybody wants to read anymore,¡± Ev joined Ash¡¯s laugh, though hers was faint in comparison. ¡°So, come on. What happened?¡± Evara finally asked. She sat up and propped herself on her elbow. Her sprawling mess of damp hair dripped down her forehead and off her nose.
¡°Your hair¡¯s gonna tangle, Ev,¡± Ash grunted. She walked to the bathtub and took a towel and brush back to the bed. She wrapped the towel around her sister¡¯s shoulders and started combing through her hair.
¡°Why are you being nice?¡± Ev laughed.
¡°When am I not nice?¡± Ash asked as though offended.
¡°You aren¡¯t exactly the ¡®brush my hair¡¯ kind of nice. You¡¯re more the ¡®I killed a bear for you¡¯ type,¡± Ev said. ¡°Are you trying to soften me up or something?¡±
¡°I...¡± Ash sighed as she mindlessly combed through Ev¡¯s long ¨C and thoroughly knotted ¨C mane.
¡°What? Did something happen?¡± Ev pressed. She didn¡¯t turn to look at Ash, she knew it would be easier for her to speak if Ev wasn¡¯t looking.
¡°I¡¯m the Champion, Ev,¡± she finally whispered.
¡°Oh...¡± Was all Ev could manage.
¡°Champion of Black,¡± Ash half groaned.
¡°So... Like, the end of the world?¡± Ev slowly said.
¡°Yeah,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°End of the world.¡±
¡°Well... Shit.¡±
A little candle flickered in the corner. It danced over Evara¡¯s dirtied clothes and discarded armour. A shadow sprung across them as the sun bled through the drawn curtains. The hearth held the only heat in the world, so far as Ash was concerned.
¡°Then...¡± Ev whispered. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ash admitted. ¡°But White told me to head west.¡±
¡°West? You plan on going for a swim? And who¡¯s White?¡± Ev asked.
¡°White, the Champion of White,¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°What!¡± Evara exploded. She quickly spun around to face Ash, seemingly unfazed by the brush catching in her hair. ¡°You met the Champion of White?¡± She shouted.
¡°Aye... Gave him a smack in the teeth as well,¡± Ash grunted.
¡°Bullshit,¡± Ev replied. ¡°He¡¯s never been hit before. Not even the blood queen could get him.¡±
¡°Then I''m proud to have popped his cherry, and his nose.¡±
¡°No, you don¡¯t understand Ash. The man can see the future. He knows what you¡¯re going to do a month before you do it,¡± Ev insisted.
¡°So he knew I was the Champion before the mothers met?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think so. I read that anything further than a few seconds into the future gets increasingly fuzzy. He can see long enough to dodge a punch, but a conversation a day away would sound as though it were taking place underwater.¡±
¡°Well,¡± Ash snickered, ¡°he didn¡¯t see me coming.¡±
¡°I¡¯m still not convinced.¡±
¡°No?¡±
¡°You got your ass beat by a bunch of random bandits, yet you hit the untouchable man?¡±
¡°First off, I won both those fights... technically. Besides, I didn¡¯t beat him, we just fought for a bit,¡± Ash recounted with an ever-increasing self-doubt.
¡°People don¡¯t fight the Champion of White; they survive him,¡± Ev sighed. ¡°But you aren¡¯t a liar, so how did you do it?¡±
¡°Honestly? I don¡¯t know. I think... it was something to do with my glove thingy.¡±
¡°Your gauntlet?¡±
¡°Yeah, that,¡± Ash snorted.
¡°What happened?¡±
¡°It... started glowing, or something. Bands of purple lightning shot from the metal, and there was this... aura? Like black dust in sunlit mist. I couldn¡¯t move, and it was icy cold, but I could still look around,¡± Ash dreamily recalled. ¡°He had his blade to my heart; I think he thrust it in, but then he was frozen. Everyone - everything - was frozen but me.¡±
¡°So, you hit him while he was frozen?¡± Ev pressed. Her steel eyes lit up as she wrapped herself in the tale. Ash could almost look behind her little pupils to see the imagined battle raging in her head.
¡°I knocked his bloody teeth in while he was frozen,¡± Ash boasted. It made Evara laugh for a moment, though she quickly grew grim and sat back before her sister.
¡°What¡¯s the bad news?¡± Ev bluntly asked, her brow crooking and wrinkling.
¡°I never said there was bad news.¡±
¡°But there is, isn¡¯t there?¡±
She dreaded telling her. She dreaded her tiny sister¡¯s colossal wrath, but she knew she had no choice.
¡°You¡¯re going back with the baron,¡± Ash finally said.
¡°No, the fuck, I''m not!¡±
¡°Ev-¡±
¡°Shut up, I''m not going to let you fight off the apocalypse alone!¡±
¡°Listen to m-¡±
¡°You¡¯re useless on your own! How are you going to forge an alliance if you can¡¯t even make eye contact?¡±
¡°Evara!¡± Ash finally managed. Her sister had jolted to her feet and begun pacing across the decadent room. ¡°Now listen to me, this is not up for debate. I am fighting the apocalypse, you¡¯re right, but I''m also fighting the Conclave and every allied nation. It is no place for a fucking child. You¡¯re going home where you can be safe,¡± Ash snapped.
¡°But-¡±
¡°You can throw all the tantrums in the world. You can insult me as much as you like but come the dawn; you¡¯ll be riding with the baron,¡± she hissed.
¡°Ash-¡±
¡°This is probably going to be the last time we see each other - maybe for a very long time - let¡¯s not waste it. Please, I won¡¯t change my mind; don¡¯t waste our day arguing.¡±
¡°Then,¡± Ev sobbed, ¡°what? How are we supposed to spend our last day together?¡±
A tear fell, and a dozen more. They seemed to flow so easily for Evara, and so harshly for Ashtik. She was ¡®strong¡¯, she was ¡®stoic¡¯, she was a rock that didn¡¯t know how to crack.
¡°Don¡¯t suppose you wanna¡¯ get drunk again?¡± Ash tried to joke.
¡°No,¡± Ev choked. She ran into her sister and forced a soggy hug.
¡°It¡¯s not all bad news,¡± Ash said.
¡°No?¡±
¡°I got you a bribe - I mean present.¡±
¡°What is it?¡±
¡°I haven¡¯t picked it up yet. We¡¯ll get it together,¡± Ash took her sister¡¯s face into her hands. She felt the wet of her hair through her steel skin. She felt the warmth of her blushing cheeks and the very beat of her heart.
¡°A parting gift?¡± Ev choked.
¡°Don¡¯t call it a parting gift, call it... Me spoiling you, one more time.¡±
¡°¡®One last time¡¯, you mean,¡± Ev grunted.
¡°If I meant it, I¡¯d have said it.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not fair, I can¡¯t get you anything,¡± Ev groaned on.
¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, you can get me something next time,¡± Ash winked. ¡°Now get dressed.¡±
The child could spend the entire day and night getting dressed, but the urgency of a last moment together pushed her along. Still, it took her nearly an hour before she stood ready.
They made their way across the city, stopping at oddity stores and strange attractions. They toured the old silver monolith at the limit of the northern quarter. They tried foreign treats and heard alien music. For a final day, it could have been much worse. Their route had been meandering but intentional. They were headed to the smithy as slowly as they could. What might have been a five-minute walk became a six-hour adventure. They stopped at every mummer and busker, every stall and tale-teller. It was only as the smithy came to view that they decided the time was right to get some food.
The two found a small caf¨¦ across from the smith and settled within. Evara ordered some fanciful dish, found only in the Conclave. Olives and garlic, cheese and herbs, and some kind of bloody meat. It looked undercooked to Ash¡¯s eye, but Evara insisted it was supposed to be.
Ashtik settled with something more typical and wholesome; beaver tail stewed in ginger, garlic and onions. A real meal, not like Evara¡¯s.
¡°How is it?¡± Ash asked as she stabbed a chunk of fat with a sharp wooden skewer and brought it to her mouth.
¡°Hot,¡± Ev laughed. ¡°But I suppose that¡¯s the point. Do you wish to try?¡±
¡°No,¡± Ash scoffed. She appraised the absurd dish with complete distain. Meat with a pulse was a sure way to catch an illness, and pulsating her dish was. Every time Evara would stab into the admittedly tender chunks, a gush of red juice would pour from within and soak over the peeled potatoes beneath. It was an awful cut, to Ashtik¡¯s sensibilities. Not a string of fat clung to it, just pure meat. She¡¯d be better off living like a hermit, eating mushrooms and mould.
¡°What did you think of the monolith?¡± Ev asked.
¡°Bigger than I expected. Did that guide say there were more of them?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Evara nodded. ¡°They mark the Champion¡¯s claims.¡±
¡°Right... Each Champion gets a kingdom of their own.¡±
¡°I¡¯d love to see what kind of land would call you queen,¡± Ev laughed.
Ash joined her laugh and said, ¡°somehow I doubt queenhood is in my future.¡±
¡°You¡¯ll find out in the Forgelands, I guess,¡± Ev said. She tried a smile, but it didn¡¯t seem to fit. She couldn¡¯t keep her eyes high enough to look at Ash. Her whole demeanour changed in an instant at her own mention of the Forgelands.
¡°I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± Ash whispered with a grin, ¡°if I get my own castle, I''ll drag you over so you can rule it for me.¡±
¡°Deal,¡± Ev grinned, though her eyes never lost their weight. ¡°Though, I get the big bedroom.¡±
¡°All the bedrooms will be big, sis, and each''ll have their own bathhouse attached.¡±
¡°Yeah, and a grand feast hall with a hearth every three seats.¡±
¡°A big marble table at the head for you to preside over...¡±
¡°And a little cupboard nearby, for you to hide in when they want to celebrate your many heroic victories!¡± Ev cheered.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.¡°I¡¯ll get right on it,¡± Ash laughed.
Once bellies were filled, and as the sun shrank beneath the tides, the two made for their final destination. They crossed the cobbled street and came upon the clanging of steel on steel. The smell of pitch and iron. The heat of the open-air forge.
The master ruled over his anvil while his assistant kept at the bellows. It was no wonder the smiths she had known were better built than any soldier. The young assistant glistened with sweat despite the somewhat bitter air. He kept a perfect pace as he puffed his bellow, like a rhythmic drum at the rear of a vast orchestra.
The master''s work seemed no less operose. He wore a strange band around his head which seemed to wick away any rouge beads of sweat. He shattered his hammer down time and again against a molten rod, turning it upon each contact.
A third man stood silently in the forge, one she had seen briefly in the early hours of the day. His name didn¡¯t come to her but she recalled his purpose. He wanted to be taken on as the smith¡¯s apprentice. It seemed that despite his blatant refusal, the man had yet to give up. He seemed entranced in the smith¡¯s art, noting his every exertion and movement.
¡°Excuse me!¡± Ev called out to the smith. His focus broke from his work and his eyes lit up as they came upon Ash.
¡°Sparrow!¡± He excitedly called. ¡°Callum, take a rest boy.¡±
The younger man nearly collapsed back from the bellows, but the third was kind enough to catch him.
¡°Master Toblik, would you like me to maintain the heat?¡± The third man offered. The smith sighed and seemingly only just realised that the other man was still there.
¡°Don¡¯t bother, I¡¯m done for the day,¡± Toblik, the smith, sighed.
¡°Then I¡¯ll return on the morrow, ser!¡±
¡°Hang on,¡± Toblik grunted. He seemed to appraise Ashtik for a moment before he turned back to the interloping man. ¡°Sparrow, please step inside,¡± he offered. ¡°Sujin, follow.¡±
The third man¡¯s face lit up at the invitation, but a dose of hesitant scepticism carried in his steps.
The forge shop had grown dark in the early dusk. Ashtik and Evara patrolled the stands and oddities while the smith lit a set of oil lamps at his countertop. The room seemed much cosier by lamplight. The golden glow shimmered and danced from the cuirasses and blades. The wind seemed to swirl within the glass confines of the flame and brought a billowing shadow across the oak above them. A cast of Evara¡¯s little face reigned over a painting of the Conclave, while Ash¡¯s own skulked across the floorboards.
¡°I assume this is the sister then, Sparrow?¡± Toblik bowed.
¡°I am indeed, Evara, Ser,¡± Ev returned a curtsey.
¡°A pleasure.¡±
He drew from beneath his counter, a large rough leather wrap. He loosened a bronze buckle and unravelled the cover. Beneath lay a beautiful steel spear. Along its thin silver shaft, the forger had inlay channels of shimmering iridescent black and violet. They wrapped around the shaft like the vines tattooed to the side of Ash¡¯s neck. The spear tip itself was a vibrant silvery white shard, longer than thick, with deep serrations on one side and a straight blade on the other. Two smaller blades jutted out from the base of the tip, possibly to catch other striking weapons or to hook onto an opponent. The bottom end of the spear held a smaller tip usually found on pikes rather than spears. It was meant to be jammed into the dirt to fend off horses and bears.
Ash ran a delicate finger across the ornate, yet visually simple blade.
¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± she whispered.
¡°It needs a name,¡± Toblik beamed, clearly proud of his work.
¡°I don¡¯t...¡± Ash muttered. She looked to her sister with pleading eyes, hoping she would have some meaningful title to bestow upon the masterpiece.
¡°How about Stabby?¡± Ev suggested.
¡°Stabby it is!¡± Toblik chuckled. He took the spear and sprinkled some strange emerald dust against the shaft. He gently blew the powder into the day¡¯s final sunbeam and revealed beneath the new name, seared in steel. ¡®Stabby.¡¯
¡°No...¡± Ash groaned. ¡°Why stabby?¡±
¡°It¡¯s cute, lil¡¯ Stabby the spear,¡± Ev giggled.
¡°It¡¯s not supposed to be cute.¡±
¡°Well, it is. Get use to him.¡±
¡°¡®Him¡¯?¡±
¡°Aye, it seems a bit clich¨¦ for it to be a her. Ser Stabby it is.¡±
Ash had no words, just sheer disgust. She groaned and swallowed her disappointment as her eyes came back to ¡®Stabby¡¯. As unfortunate as the name might have been, it didn¡¯t the fact that he was a piece of art. An absolute masterwork. She took it in her hands and lifted it for the first time. It was near as light as air, and thrice as nimble. She could slash it through a rainstorm and not catch a single drop, or she could thrust it forth and split a droplet in half.
¡°Look there,¡± Toblik pointed. She noticed a small sparrow sigil set in the spear shaft¡¯s base. ¡°Press it.¡±
She did, and nearly lost a finger for her trouble. The tip had exploded out from the shaft and imbedded itself deep within the wall across from her. The tip and handle remained connected only by a thick thread of silver chain. The shock of the explosion loosened her grip enough that the shaft slipped from her hand and tore through the air back to the head of the spear.
¡°Explosive rune and dican steel chain. Press the sigil and the spear shoots out, release the sigil and it retracts,¡± Toblik explained. He walked over to the spear and, with a valiant effort, extracted it from his wall.
¡°That¡¯s incredible!¡± Sujin gasped.
¡°It¡¯s terrifying,¡± Ev corrected. She had covered her ears after the explosion and had yet to stop.
¡°Thank you, master Toblik. It¡¯s more than I could have ever hoped for,¡± Ash muttered as he handed the spear back.
¡°That¡¯s just the start, remember?¡± He laughed.
He dragged out a wooden case from beneath his counter and kicked it open for her. Within was the rest of her order. At the top, above a fur lining, lay Evara¡¯s bow.
¡°That¡¯s pretty,¡± Ev said as Ash removed the bow.
¡°It¡¯s yours.¡±
¡°Fuck off,¡± Ev gasped. ¡°Truly? Thank you, Ash!¡± The child didn¡¯t know whether to take up the bow, or attack Ash with a vicious hug, so she did both. She gripped the dawn birch bow and wrapped her arms around Ash¡¯s neck, nearly knocking her to the ground as she went.
¡°I¡¯ll practice every day!¡± Ev swore.
¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Ash laughed. Her sister scuttled off to string her new bow while Ash ruffled through the case. She drew two sets of travel gear contained within two great leather packs while Evara grunted and huffed and swore like a sailor behind them. She turned to see her sister leveraging her entire bodyweight in an attempt to compress the bow enough that she could attach the string. ¡°Would you like some help?¡± Sujin offered.
¡°No,¡± Ev snapped like a rabid dog protecting a bone. She carried on her display of athletic prowess and Ash left her to it.
The next item drawn she had believed to be a leather breastplate, but quickly she realised it was steel. Black steel, not all that dissimilar to her own gauntlet. It was lighter than her leather armour, yet she could feel how solid it really was. It was of a northern design, though the features of a huntress had been replaced with the features of a Champion. Where her leather had been thick and padded, this was not a fingernail in width. Where her belly had been exposed, now the impression of a six-pack had been engraved into the steel. It seemed as formfitting as any tailored dress could hope to be. How the smith had guessed at her exact measurements was a thought best left buried. At the top of the plate - at the neck hole - a large jut pushed forwards. A blade trap, meant to deflect slashes away from her head. The black shoulder pieces within also had juts of their own to protect her neck. This really was knightly armour rather than that of a huntress.
She could not don it here, but she placed the pieces to her body one by one. The armour had been riveted to set of underclothes. It was another northern practice. Most plate steel would require two people to attach, but this armour could be worn like any other clothing. The leather pants were cut at her ankles as to make room for the boots. A chainmail skirt could be attached or removed with ease.
The armour was like nothing she had ever dreamed of wearing. Her lifelong aversion to steel and plate would soon be defeated by sheer awe at the beautiful craftsmanship. When attached to each other, the armour appeared almost seamless. The black steel, unlike the spear, held no shine. It was designed for shadows. It seemed to diffuse the lamplight as it was struck.
Finally, she found the book. ¡®A novice¡¯s guide to magics and arcana.¡¯ The true present for her sister. Ash turned to look at the girl as she continued to struggle with her new bow.
¡°Ev,¡± she whispered.
¡°One moment,¡± Ev grunted. She gritted her teeth and pushed one final effort and one grand mass of will into her bow. Finally, and just barely, did she manage to attach the crystal string to both limbs. ¡°Yes!¡± Ev panted with one hand raised. The stranger, Sujin gave a gleeful little clap for her perseverance, but quickly stopped when Toblik shot him a glance.
¡°Stand there, boy,¡± Toblik ordered before disappearing into some back room. The remaining trio could hear some clanging and metallic rustling but had no idea what was happening. Ash knelt by the chest and silently admired her new equipment while Sujin stood perfectly in place.
¡°Hello,¡± Ev eked after a moment of silence. ¡°I¡¯m Evara.¡±
¡°Sujin,¡± The other man bowed.
¡°Did you contract the forger?¡±
¡°No, I was hoping to be taken on as his apprentice. They say there¡¯s no greater enchanter in the world than he.¡±
¡°You are an enchanter?¡±
¡°Indeed, or an aspirant I suppose. I completed my tutelage back home so now I¡¯m searching the world for a great master.¡±
¡°Where are you from?¡±
¡°The Forgelands. Ravenfield, specifically.¡±
¡°Oh, that¡¯s the capital, right?¡±
¡°It is. A Ducissa sponsored my pilgrimage here. It¡¯ll be a shame to tell her the master is uninterested.¡±
¡°A Ducissa?¡±
¡°A newly minted Duchess. She¡¯s a first-generation aristocrat.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t know that was a thing.¡±
¡°They try to be meritocratic back home. They fail... but they try.¡±
The kindly small talk came to an abrupt end as the great Forgemaster came lumbering in, a black leather case slung over his shoulder. He plonked the hefty pack down on the counter. A torrent of sawdust and metal shavings exploded out from beneath and settled along the old countertop.
¡°Sparrow,¡± Toblik grunted, ¡°I have a... mutually beneficial proposition.¡±
¡°You do?¡±
¡°Aye. This man, Sujin,¡± Toblik motioned, ¡°is a truly talented enchanter. He also happens to be on his pilgrimage. My offer is that you take him with you on your travels. He can maintain your gear and help guide you through much of this world.¡±
¡°If he is so talented, why won¡¯t you take him on yourself?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Indeed, I¡¯d also like to know,¡± Sujin pressed.
¡°It isn¡¯t personal, boy. I have a young daughter and wish her to be my apprentice. By the time Callum¡¯s tutelage is complete, she will be of age to learn. I simply haven¡¯t the space to take you on,¡± Toblik said.
¡°But why would I enter the service of this stranger?¡± Sujin asked.
¡°That¡¯s my end of the bargain,¡± Toblik began. He drew out a strange sheet of iron with an ornate stamp over a thin seam.
¡°Is that-¡± Sujin stammered.
¡°My vouch. Each master is awarded two in a lifetime; one I shall keep for my daughter in case I pass before her training is complete,¡± Toblik explained, more so for the benefit of Ash and Evara. He stepped forth, not to Sujin, but to Ash. ¡°Take this,¡± he said as he handed her the iron letter.
¡°Me?¡± Ash questioned.
¡°Aye. Should this boy be of proud character ¨C a steadfast ally and good-hearted man ¨C then grant him this vouch. It shall ensure him a tutelage under any master on the continent.¡±
¡°Does he get any say in this?¡± Ash protested.
¡°My lady, this is an honour!¡± Sujin blurted. His whole face lit up at the sign of the vouch. ¡°I will be of greater service than you could possibly imagine, I swear it.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure. She stands to declare war upon the Conclave. Would you really be party to that?¡± Evara interrupted.
¡°I would do battle with the very gods should you wish it, my lady,¡± Sujin bowed.
¡°You¡¯ll probably die,¡± Ash grunted.
¡°There can be no death so sweet as a death in service of purpose.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t even know where I''m going,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Yes, I do.¡±
¡°Where?¡±
¡°Where you must, and I travel at your back,¡± Sujin grinned.
¡°I¡¯m headed west,¡± she sighed.
¡°To the sea?¡±
¡°To the Forgelands,¡± she corrected.
¡°Then you ought to head east, my lady, lest you intend to swim the whole way,¡± he said.
¡°East?¡±
¡°Indeed, towards the portgate in Meomi. Tis¡¯ how your countrymen tend to go about it.¡±
¡°Ash, did you not know the route?¡± Ev sighed.
¡°Well... it¡¯s west. I¡¯d sail... West,¡± Ash murmured.
¡°Gods...¡± Evara groaned.
¡°My lady,¡± Sujin mumbled, ¡°the expanse is too great to sail in a timely manner. It would be much more advisable to head to Meomi.¡±
¡°Then I guess you¡¯ll have to show me the way,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°Oh, and it¡¯s Ashtik. Don¡¯t call me lady.¡±
¡°Very well, Ashtik,¡± he bowed.
She turned from the young man to the old and thanked him one last time before the party parted.
They made for the baron¡¯s parade. He sat atop a sumpter beast, much stockier than a horse though not nearly as beautiful. He must have bought it within the city. He seemed decked from head to toe in new garbs and garments. A garish silver crown lay heavy against his brow, an ornate black steel blade lay across his lap as a dozen of his personal retainers marched in crimson robes, styled in the manner of Balialan nobility; steel skirts and platformed boots. A clip at the belt to attach to a halberd or longarm. Elegant and lazy.
¡°Sparrow!¡± Baron Maren called from atop of his great beast. He tore at the reins and rounded to her side. ¡°There you are.¡±
¡°Hello again, baron,¡± Ash nodded.
¡°So?¡± He impatiently urged.
¡°My lord?¡±
¡°Are you the Champion?¡± He excitedly asked.
¡°I- It is complicated, my lord.¡±
¡°Complicated? Were you chosen, or not?¡±
¡°My lord,¡± Evara called, ¡°my sister has been declared Champion of Black.¡±
He knew what it meant. The red face of an avid drinker came to be whiter than that of a ghost. The glee of the question had given way to the depth of the answer, and the gravity of the truth.
¡°Then... Why is that complicated?¡± He stuttered.
¡°The Conclave will declare her a heretic,¡± Ev answered.
¡°To stop the spread of panic...¡± Maren realised.
¡°Aye, my lord.¡±
He seemed to take a moment to consider what he had been told. The whiskers atop his lip bristled into his nose as some great thought came through a deep sniff.
¡°Then I must break our deal, Sparrow,¡± he said as though it were a kind thing.
¡°What do you mean?¡± Ash asked.
¡°I cannot take your sister along, nor can I host her in my home.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°My responsibility is towards my barony, towards my people. I cannot have Veytors marching through my territory looking for heretics.¡±
¡°You gave me your word, Maren,¡± Ash spat.
¡°Aye, and now I must break it,¡± he said with all too little sorrow.
¡°And our parents? They still live within your keep,¡± Ev interrupted.
¡°I will forget that fact, as a favour to the Sparrow-knight. They will blend in as villagers remain unnoticed,¡± he proudly stated. ¡°But, Sparrow, your sister is too obviously your own blood. She cannot hide it.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t think they¡¯ll find our parents?¡± Ash doubted.
¡°I do not. All they will find is a cancer riddled old man and a beautiful foreign woman. There will be no way to link them back to you,¡± Maren declared.
¡°I beg you, Maren. Whatever you want, you shall have. Please, just take her back home. She needn¡¯t live in your keep, but it isn¡¯t safe for her with me,¡± Ash pled.
¡°It will be no different at my side, except that I will not fight to defend her,¡± Maren swore.
¡°I won¡¯t forget this, Maren. I swear it,¡± Ash threatened.
¡°You will have greater foes to fight than I, Sparrow. I will be but a speck of a memory.¡±
Chapter Ten: Step Softly.
If ever a wise man comes forth and tells you that the gods are ill, and the world is dark; tell him what Ash knew from her first step. Tell him to look out at the sky above the canopy. Tell him to drag a lung of flowered air. Tell him to feel the crimson grasses beneath his feet and the rain-scented winds against his bare face. The cruelties of war, and the strife that makes progeny of life, fades behind the sapphire sun. It drowns beneath the hope of sunrise, and the warmth of sunset.
She had no place in a city, this first march confirmed it. They had made quickly for Duke¡¯s crossing, and hadn¡¯t tarried even there. They didn¡¯t know when they would be made the devil, but they held no intent to face the false retribution the Veytors offered them so gladly.
Duke¡¯s crossing seemed tiny on the horizon already. She had never seen it from this side. She supposed she had never seen anything from this side. Ashtik had lived at the westernmost edge of the northernmost kingdom and had never deigned to look out beyond her wooded hunting grounds. Now she stood a world away, little more than a week after her world had begun to shatter. It had been a slow process till now. A hint at destiny here, a suggestion of struggle there. Now?
Now she fled her home with an army of zealots at her heels and her baby sister at her arm. Now she raced off to build a worldwide alliance against some nebulous, world ending, threat. Ashtik, as she had been in the weeks prior, now known more so as the Sparrow-Knight; the Black Champion. What would be next? The Black Heretic? The scourge? Maybe ¡®the mild annoyance¡¯, if she proved lesser than her fate-weaver might hope.
Sujin, the apprentice enchanter, had told her the trek would be short. Maybe two or three days. The first began in silence. Even Evara¡¯s tireless tongue tripped and twisted as she tried to talk of matters beyond their ongoing trials and torturous tribulations.
It was only as they reached the first forest that Ashtik remembered her final gift for Evara. She looked over at Sujin whom she had claimed as some sort of pack animal. He marched along with the chest purchased at the blacksmiths.
¡°Enchanter.¡± She whispered quietly enough that Evara didn¡¯t hear. He stopped in his tracks at her slightest beckon and seemed almost ready to bow despite his heavy load.
¡°Ashtik, how can I help?¡± He asked, matching her hushed tone. She motioned for him to keep walking as she ruffled around in the chest mounted to his back. The book had been gently placed at the very top and she drew it quickly.
¡°Thank you.¡± She whispered to the slightly confused man.
Ash sprung along the crunchy forest floor as she closed the gap between herself and her unusually pensive sister.
¡°Pssst,¡± she whistled an inch from Evara¡¯s ear.
¡°Huh?¡±
¡°I forgot to give you your present.¡± Ash beamed.
Evara cocked a brow at her sister as she unslung her crystal string bow. She half chuckled as she said, ¡°no you didn¡¯t.¡± Her smile was quickly wiped, however, as her eyes came upon Ash¡¯s hands. The dusty, musky, little old book seemed held together by sheer stubborn pride. It had the spine of a cowardly worm and seemed steeped in twice as much dirt; yet Evara looked upon it with eyes reserved for an engagement band or the keys the world¡¯s greatest castle.
¡°Magic?¡± Evara muttered breathlessly.
¡°Don¡¯t blow us up, ay?¡±
¡°I-¡± Evara tried to say. She took a steadying breath before her little steel eyes fixed within Ash¡¯s own. ¡°Thank you.¡± She whispered with power in the words. It was a thousand thanks in a thousand languages, all spoken in a single broken breath. It was awe, it was elation. It was fear, and all things fearful. It was joy, and all things joyous. If beaming eyes could light a fire, the world before her would be but a simple sconce.
She tore through the pages with the fervour of a mad prophet. She consumed each letter as though they dripped with the only water in a vast desert. She could barely contain the words within her mind and found herself reading them into being, into words aloud. She muttered every line and sang every spell. She recited every sentence and prayed with every footnote.
The whole day slipped by and she only stopped her worship of words as the sun failed to light the words any longer. She broke her avaricious gaze from the bountiful tome some place deep within the quickly darkening woods.
Ash noticed that her sister had finally re-joined the little party and said with a smile, ¡°we¡¯re settling down for the night.¡±
¡°Oh, how can I help?¡± Ev asked, her voice hoarse from her constant mutterings.
¡°Gather some sticks and leaves, I¡¯ve got the rest.¡±
It didn¡¯t take long before their little patch of dirt became a homely little camp. Evara erected a little mound of dry kindling and Ash lit it with a single strike of her dirk. They both followed their father¡¯s training and made up some mossy beds atop of sufficiently sturdy trees. They stopped in their work as they noticed Sujin erect some strange tarp and twig construction.
¡°It¡¯s a tent,¡± he explained.
¡°A what?¡± Ev scoffed.
¡°A tent. You know, for camping?¡±
¡°Looks cramped.¡± Ash laughed.
¡°Tis¡¯ longer than head and toe, though not so long as your tree; I suppose.¡± He awkwardly chuckled. ¡°It keeps the rain from me.¡±
¡°So does a cover... That¡¯s why they call it a cover; it covers.¡± Ash said.
¡°Indeed, and yet I fear no tree will quite support a man as... dense, as I. The ground and tent will suffice.¡± Sujin said with a smile.
¡°You Forgelanders are strange.¡± Ash hesitantly said before returning to her own spot atop of the tree.
¡°Shall I place some beast defences for the night?¡± Sujin called up after he was finished with his ¡®tent¡¯.
¡°Beast defences?¡± Ev repeated.
¡°Indeed. These woods are thick with creatures, I¡¯m sure.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, bud. Ash has us covered on the ¡®beast¡¯ front.¡±
¡°Very well, if you are sure.¡±
The night came quickly, and a traveller sleeps deeply when her travels take her afar. A warning, though, for those who sleep too deeply in the dark and natural world. Sujin was right, beasts did lurk in those woods. Not animals, like we might fend off with flame, but creatures of myth and shadow. One such beast, a lesser of its kind but all the greater than a sleeping man, crept upon their camp.
It might have been a wolf, had its fangs not been so fleshy and tentacled. It might have been a spider, had its thousand, thousand eyes not seemed to peer out in such a strangely human way. It wore no fur, but chitinous spikes shivering over its canine-like body. It did not walk on paws, but completely human hands that shattered and stretched into feet at the end of every step.
It silently jolted and bolted; crawled and clawed across the forest floor. No noise dared ring out as it crunched over fallen leaves and carelessly snapped each branch in its path. It might have panted, or maybe it was screaming, as its head rose and found the man. Cruel and beaten magic oozed from his fingertips. He didn¡¯t deserve his lying soul, but this creature did. It took one single step forth before it was sent flying off in the other direction. Something had hit it, something all too large. It looked up and saw a beast of a grizzly bear which bore its pitiful fangs and it growled its guttural threat.
It was enough to wake Evara, which was enough to wake Sujin. She dove from her tree to the safety of the flame while Sujin took up his battle axe and stood between the girl and the beasts.
Through the darkness of the night, all they could see was the nearest creature. The proud and strong grizzly. Ten-foot tall and near as wide. It didn¡¯t seem bothered by the little humans behind it, but entirely occupied by something else within the night.
The man wasn¡¯t worth the fight. The beast made off into the night.
¡°Is that a bear?¡± Sujin shaking voice whispered to Evara.
¡°She¡¯s a beauty.¡± Evara smiled from his back. ¡°Put the axe down, Sujin.¡±
¡°What? Are you mad?¡±
¡°I told you... Ash has this.¡±
That was when they could see her. Ashtik Sai-Weleg, draped in black steel. She stood before the great towering bear in her brand-new armour. Her hair shimmered with the night flame and her spear caught the very stars above her. She didn¡¯t wield it, though. Ser Stabby had been planted into the dirt at her back, while she stood silently staring this great beast down.
¡°Ashtik!¡± He urgently whispered. He tried to rush to her side, axe in hand, but Evara caught his shoulder and held him back with a smile.
¡°Just watch.¡± She grinned.
The bear uncoiled on its hind legs. It stood as a mountain over the short woman, though she barely seemed to notice. It stomped down before Ashtik and the Champion simply raised a hand to its nose.
¡°Thank you.¡± Ash whispered and the bear calmed in an instant. What had been a warrior, a beast of battle, seemed now a cub with its mother. The bear fell to its side and snuggled its massive nose against Ash¡¯s relatively tiny body. It sneezed and sniffed about her but seemed utterly content to just lie on the ground before her.
Ashtik ran a gentle hand across its furry belly. She withdrew and found a fount of blood buried beneath a matted tuft.
¡°Ev.¡± Ashtik whispered. Evara slipped past the stunned enchanter as he stood with his mouth agape and his eyes dumbly dancing across the spectacle. He finally flinched simply because the bear lazily struck out at Evara¡¯s gentle approach.
¡°Oy!¡± Ash scolded. She gently smacked the beast atop of its head before saying, ¡°she¡¯s here to help. So, be nice.¡±
¡°Hello.¡± Evara whispered to the bear as she slowly approached. She seemed almost as expert at handling the creature as her sister. She walked as slowly, and as small, as she could. Her eyes fell to the floor and her hands stayed balled in gentle fists as to keep her fingers protected from any nipping.
The young sister finally managed to come upon the beast, who gave no protest as soon as she began her efforts. Evara¡¯s eyes flittered between their natural silvery steel to some divinely golden flame. Her hands lit up the forest around them and Sujin could make out individual veins beneath the bear¡¯s fur due to its newly found internal golden glow.
The shine was shaky, she clearly struggled to hold it. Her powers coursed through the bear¡¯s wounded body but drained at her own. It was a full minute of wilful effort before the girl grew too feint to continue. Her golden flames extinguished into steel droplets. Evara wobbled and nearly collapsed until the bear itself caught her. She moved her head beneath Evara that the young girl might rest her weight against it. It rose, and Evara came with it. The young girl ended up draped over the great bear¡¯s neck like some squishy scarf.
It carried Evara to the campfire and set her down with an impossible delicacy for an animal of its heft. Ashtik followed along with a gentle hand stroking the great beast¡¯s hind.
¡°You shouldn¡¯t have come, girl.¡± Ash whispered to the great beast. It snorted at her in response. ¡°It was a dangerous thing to do. Thank you, but you need to be careful.¡±
¡°Ah, Ashtik?¡± Sujin whimpered. His voice broke at his single intelligible word and his eyes dared not linger on the beast beside him. He managed, at last, to gather his jaw from the fallen leaves and continue his intended question; ¡°what the hells are you doing?¡±
Ash must have only now remembered that she travelled with a third. A dirty glare found the meagre stranger in her camp while a gentle hand combed at the she-bear''s tangled fur. She had the grace, at least, to shrug before going back to her beast and her sister.
Ash bundled the young girl beneath a blanket and a hug while the bear seemed to lend some of its great warmth to Evara. It encircled the sleeping girl and made a pillow of its belly for her.
¡°You can stay the night, if you want?¡± Ash whispered. The bear snorted again and nestled its nose against Evara¡¯s leg. ¡°Then at least take some food before you go.¡± Ash insisted. She dug within her leather pack and drew out a paper wrapped ration of salted fish. The bear took it gladly, though she didn¡¯t eat it. She held it in her mouth as she nuzzled against Evara.
¡°She¡¯s not hungry, don¡¯t worry.¡± Ash whispered.
¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Evara meekly sighed from beneath her great fur blanket.
¡°Then we¡¯ll cook you a second breakfast.¡± Ash chuckled, wrapping her steel hand around Evara¡¯s rosy little face. The bear noticed that she had awoken and took it for permission to leave the party as they were. It nipped at Evara¡¯s shirt and gently lifted her enough that it could stand without disturbing her.
¡°Thank you for helping us.¡± Evara whispered, reaching a weary hand out to the bear. It met her halfway and nuzzled itself against her before bowing to Ashtik and fading into the darkness of natural night.
¡°I- You-¡± Sujin stuttered.
¡°Go back to sleep, Enchanter.¡± Ash ordered. ¡°We won¡¯t be disturbed again.¡±
¡°How could I sleep after that?¡±
¡°Lightly and well.¡± Ash snipped. She took Evara¡¯s weight and helped the girl up to her little treetop nest. She had barely lay beneath her cover before her dreams took her. Evara slept so softly, even after the ordeals and pains of the past weeks. Ash sat at her side for a moment. She wrapped Ev in her coverings as tightly as she could and watched the little shakes of her littler eyes beneath and the quiver of her lips as she doubtless dreamed of victory in some grand debate.
Her open pack dangled from the tree and at the top, she saw the two most vital items in Evara¡¯s arsenal. Her brand-new spell book and her self-written tome. She half mindedly flickered through them both but couldn¡¯t understand much but common symbols and basic diagrams. One page of her novice grimoire held diagrams of the natural facets and the writing beneath which must have been their names spelled out.
The image of a candle flame marked the obvious, ignis; the facet of energy. Beside was the diamond rune of creation and orb that meant destruction. Beneath both was the rounded diamond that must have been the facet of transformation. Even Ash knew that there were other sources of magic, yet they must have been too advanced for novice pages. A part of Ash worried the book would quickly prove too rudimentary for Evara, but even a quick scan through dismissed the notion. She had expected some fanciful depictions of old men saying words and causing wonders. She saw nothing within that could possibly be described as a spell. Instead, she looked over tables and formulae. Numerical calculations and listed preparations. Very little of the book even seemed to be in usual words. Symbols ¨C unlike those of Evara¡¯s other scrolls ¨C marked out entire chapters. Swirls and slashes. Depictions of formless men and gaseous women. A two-page spread depicting a half man; half woman, with sections of its anatomy demarcated with depictions of daggers and stitched wounds.
Ash deigned to stash the somewhat disturbing study book in favour of Evara¡¯s own writings. She peeled open the pages and awed at the vast crimson scrawling. Page after page after page, written in a dense ¨C but fairly neat ¨C hand. She scrolled through from start to current and noticed the writing change. It was becoming less frantic, more purposeful. She wrote less densely with much more intent behind every letter. Her penmanship seemed more confident, though less fervorous.
¡°It¡¯s rude to go through people¡¯s shit without permission.¡± Evara sleepily chuckled.
¡°You swear a lot nowadays.¡± Ash whispered.
¡°I¡¯ve got a lot to swear about ¡®nowadays¡¯.¡±
¡°I guess... Are you feeling okay?¡±
¡°I¡¯m fine. I think I''m getting better with my healing; it just so draining.¡±
¡°Maybe you¡¯ll find some spell in here to help you?¡± Ash chuckled, pointing at the book.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Maybe. There¡¯s some scary shi- stuff, in there.¡±
¡°Like what?¡±
¡°Like... corruption. It says that reckless magic can... hurt.¡±
¡°Hurt?¡±
¡°Cancer, like dad, and that¡¯s the best of it.¡±
¡°What?¡± Ash shouted. ¡°Magic gives you cancer?¡±
¡°No... not if you¡¯re careful.¡± Ev meekly protested.
¡°Then be ¨C fucking ¨C careful.¡± Ash warned.
¡°I will.¡± Ev promised. She finally opened her beautiful little eyes and matched them with Ash¡¯s own to seal the oath.
¡°Good. Now read me something; put me to sleep.¡± Ash smiled as she handed Evara her crimson tome.
¡°I don¡¯t know, this is pretty interesting stuff. You¡¯ll struggle to sleep through it.¡± Ev laughed.
The dawn cracked the canopy and the sapphire sunrise caught in amethyst eyes. She couldn¡¯t remember who had fallen asleep first, but it was clearly Evara who had been first to rise. Bacon sizzled over the morning dew. White smoke pillared over the fresh flame and carried on it the scent of breakfast. Ash rolled from her nest and effortlessly came to the ground while Evara prodded at her meaty feast.
¡°Do you eat meat, Sujin?¡± Evara asked of the barely risen man beneath his tent.
¡°Often and gladly.¡± He groaned. The enchanter crawled out to meet the crisp morning air though he quickly seemed displeased as his hand came to the grass beneath him. He wiped the dew against his shirt and asked, ¡°has it rained?¡±
¡°No, it''s just the morning dew. Have you never slept outdoors?¡± Evara laughed.
¡°Not in the forest, no. I¡¯m a city boy, through and through.¡±
¡°Well, city boy, how¡¯d you sleep?¡±
¡°Lightly and well, as was instructed.¡± He laughed.
Sujin squoze his bulky shoulders through the flaps of his leather tent and joined Evara at the flame. He sat across from her, warming his hands at the flame while she moved pieces of fatty bacon around a small metal dish. Her novice guide lay at her side and one eye seemed to scan over it while the other kept at the cookery.
¡°If I may ask, what are you reading?¡±
¡°A novice guide to magic. Ash got it for me at the smithy.¡±
¡°So that¡¯s how you healed the bear? That seems an advanced spell for a novice.¡±
¡°Oh, no. That wasn¡¯t a spell. I don¡¯t know any magic yet, just trying to grasp the basics first.¡± Ev chuckled.
¡°That was no spell? Then it was soul magic... You are a natural healer?¡±
¡°Is that what it''s called? Soul magic, huh?¡±
¡°Is it an innate ability that gets better with practice, like running or swimming?¡± Sujin asked.
¡°Aye, I suppose. I¡¯ve always been able to do it, like Ash with her beast-speak.¡±
¡°I wondered about that. I was unsure if she was a zooaphone or just very experienced with taming beasts.¡±
¡°I think it''s a bit of both. I don¡¯t get how it works entirely, but it isn¡¯t so simple as conversing.¡± Ev explained.
¡°It seems somewhat ironic, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Sujin suggested.
¡°How so?¡±
¡°Well, I haven¡¯t heard her say a full sentence since we met, yet her soul magic makes her able to chat with any creature under the stars.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not talking.¡± Ashtik quietly called from behind her tree. She stepped out into view having removed her armour and wearing only her cloth scrubs. ¡°Animals can¡¯t talk. It¡¯s... communication.¡± She tried to explain.
¡°I¡¯m sorry... I don¡¯t understand.¡± Sujin said in an almost reverent tone.
¡°Some animals ¨C like big dogs ¨C can be quite smart. Smart as a child, maybe. If I talk to them slowly, they can understand simple ideas and words but it''s not worth the effort.¡± She stood strangely far from the duo and made no attempt to come any closer as she shuffled in place beneath her nested tree. ¡°Simple animals, rats and deer, understand three things; dominance, aid, and threat. If I seem confident enough, they treat me like a parent and do as I say. If I seem kind enough, they see that I want to help and let me do so. But, if somebody stands as a threat to them, I can make them see so.¡±
¡°But that bear... You had a conversation with it.¡± Sujin recalled.
¡°Aye, she was old. With age comes pain, with pain comes wisdom. She might not be intelligent enough to understand my words, but she was wise enough to know what I meant.¡±
¡°Can you understand what they mean? The bear seemed to respond to you.¡±
¡°I can. It¡¯s easier to understand than it is to speak. She had lost her cubs to a beast some years ago. Evara reminded her of them, so she wanted to protect her from the creature.¡± Ash said.
¡°That¡¯s fascinating! I¡¯ve never heard of a zooaphone understanding a beast so well. Usually only the most basic conversations are possible.¡± Sujin awed.
¡°That¡¯s cos¡¯ animals think differently to us, people assume that means they¡¯re stupid. They aren¡¯t.¡±
With their breakfast greedily gobbled, and their camp quickly packed, the trio made for the rising east. Their Forgelander guide told them to so until they came upon the Avik river, then to head down stream until they came upon the port city.
Midday came before the river did though its mountain spring blocked the northern horizon. Ash walked a fair pace behind the others as they nattered on about the world and its wonders. She heard tales of the beast-men of Telek Aob, of their war with Xio Vien and the armadas of the Xao sea. Sujin told of a poet he had once known who hailed from the dark steppes of the Bloodlands. Evara countered with a tale she had read of the heartbeat mountain and the dwargon ruins nestled at its base. She spoke in great detail, but in the words of other folk. Sujin spoke in simpler terms, but of the experience through his own eyes. He seemed a well-travelled man, but one used to much finer means of transit than tents and campfires.
¡°Have you ever met a magician?¡± Evara asked with a brimming curiosity.
¡°My own sister had some considerably talent in transformation magic.¡± He answered just a wisp of pride.
¡°Truly?¡±
¡°Indeed,¡± he sighed. ¡°Twas¡¯ remarkable. She saw the world through a lens of magic and helped me to see the same. I remember her first spell. I remember the exact words; Kovato et Hope. It took a moment to work, but then the glass mirror before her turned to snow. I watched it freeze over and crack before it simply crumbled to snow. It was remarkable!¡± He spoke with glee but his heavy gait suggested something was amiss with his tale. Even as far back as she was, Ash could see him tense up.
¡°Kovato et Hope...¡± Evara breathily repeated. ¡°That just means glass into snow, right?¡±
¡°I believe so. Masloq, she called the language.¡±
¡°Aye, my book talks about it in great depth. The original language of the Conclave.¡±
¡°It is impressive that you would have memorised such mundane terms so quickly.¡± Sujin flattered.
¡°Thank you,¡± Ev blushed, ¡°where is your sister now, if I might ask?¡±
His broad shoulders shrunk at that. He nearly stopped in place, but managed onwards with a choked breath. He smiled without joy and said, ¡°Lilliana would all day and all night steeped in her magics. She would have the cutlery dance across the table as she made breakfast. She would turn a pinch of sugar into fireworks as she sprinkled it across the room.¡± He sighed deeply before meeting Evara¡¯s eyes and saying in a shaky breath, ¡°magic gave her meaning, but it also took from her. Slowly at first. Some days she would stay abed till far past noon; other days she wouldn¡¯t be able to stomach a single bite of food. It never concerned me, however, because she was simply so lively; so full of wonder every other day. I didn¡¯t notice her cheeks hollow, nor her eyes sink. I only realised how far things had gone when she started pulling clumps of hair out. When every sneeze came with a clot of blood. When her tears turned almost to milk, then later blood.¡±
¡°Sujin, I- I''m so sorry.¡± Evara whispered.
¡°It was inevitable. Her mind was so full of ideas and wonder, but her body had always been frail. Her capacity for magic became greater than her capacity to control the magic. It destroyed her from within.¡± He shakily said.
¡°When... how long ago did she pass?¡± Evara asked as kindly as she could.
¡°She hasn¡¯t. The magic wasn¡¯t so kind as to take her life. Her heart still beats, her lungs still draw breath. It''s her mind... it took her marvellous mind. Now she just lies in bed, drooling and staring up at the roof. I refused to believe she was gone for many years. I summoned dream walkers to visit her as she slept, but they said she had no dreams to visit. I summoned mind readers to hear of what she thought, only to hear nothing. No physician would give her a chance; it was a terminal fate they had seen one too many times. A feeble body that cannot act upon the extraordinary will of a brilliant mind.¡±
A cloud passed over the crimson midday sun. The only cloud in an otherwise clear sky. It cast a grim shadow across the northern mountain, and a cold shiver over the trekking trio. Ash had closed the gap between herself and the two others, not by her own pace increasing but by their own stoppage. The young girl looked up at the enchanter, her ashen hair fluttered in the breeze and slapped against her muddied garbs. She wore an outer robe of heavy lilac cloth stitched with black and white seams and embroidered by Miel with a little snowy owl over her heart. Beneath, she wore what must have been huntress¡¯ armour. In fact, it was Ashtik¡¯s own armour from when she was Evara¡¯s age. It didn¡¯t quite fit Evara¡¯s somewhat less toned frame so she seemed to have stuffed the shoulders with a padded cloth. Her robe covered the white cloth bootcut pants and black shin-high boots beneath.
The man, Sujin, towered over her though he himself didn¡¯t stand much taller than 170cm, even in his boots. He wore a thin and patchy stubble that must have been clean shaven in the days before their travels. His hair was short and black with wisps of brown at the edges. His shallow hazel eyes closely set beneath his sparse brows battled back a tear. He wore a thick black smithing apron over a set of fine brown velvet garments and a pair of pale leather boots. He was pale, but not in the way Carolet had been. His skin carried a golden hue despite looking as though he had spent all too little time in the caress of the sun.
¡°Take care with your studies, young Evara. Magic is not to be taken lightly.¡± Sujin darkly said.
¡°I will.¡± Evara promised.
They came upon the river at last though not a word had been spoken since. They heard it first; the rushing torrent splashing against rock, the quickening breeze in the slowly eroding trees, the bees buzzing between bellflowers and hives. Then came the taste of waterlogged wind and the warmth of humidity.
¡°Now downstream.¡± Sujin mumbled at the sight. They followed along for some time, passing the occasional wildlife seeking water and even a pair of elderly women out fishing by the far bank. Ash made sure to keep hidden from their view in case news of her ¡®heresy¡¯ had already come to this corner of the kingdom.
¡°Evara,¡± Sujin quietly said as they passed over a set of steppingstones. ¡°Might I... Show you something?¡±
¡°Nothing good has ever come of a man asking a fourteen-year-old that question.¡± Evara quipped while her focus remained on keeping her footing on the slippery steppingstones. It caught Sujin off guard, he nearly ended up falling over as his head span to look at her. ¡°I¡¯m joking.¡± She chuckled.
¡°Right,¡± Sujin awkwardly laughed. ¡°Then, watch this.¡± He stopped on his stone and scanned over the shallow waters around him, finally settling upon a single smooth pebble just beneath the surface. He traced a finger along the surface of the stone and somehow carved into it, a small ignis symbol. Sujin then threw the rock out into the water downstream. A heartbeat passed before a little POP bubbled up from beneath the surface of the water. To call it an explosion would be to call a firebug the very sun; yet the rock fractured and scattered across the river, mildly disturbing the surface of the water around it.
¡°Wow! Was that a spell?¡± Evara asked.
¡°Keep moving.¡± Ash ordered from the back of the steppingstones. Sujin quickly bounced on towards the riverbank and Evara followed along behind with a cheeky grin. She stopped dead after one jump, but Ash didn¡¯t notice in time and ended up slipping sideways into the icy cold river.
¡°Come on Ash, keep it moving!¡± Ev smirked as Ash thrashed in the shin-high water.
¡°You little-¡± The Champion of Black, hero of prophecy and soaked from head to toe, dove out with a hand reaching her little sister.
¡°No!¡± Ev half laughed; half screamed as she was dragged into the water. Ash pushed her head under for a brief moment before running off the nearby shore. ¡°Bitch!¡± Evara gasped as she rose from beneath the water. Her bright beaming smile came quickly back as she stood with her shoulders hunched for warmth. ¡°It¡¯s so cold.¡± She laughed through chattering teeth.
¡°Here!¡± Sujin shouted to her from the bank. He held in his hands two thick winter cloaks for the women. Ash gladly wrapped herself in hers and even managed a smile for the man as thanks. Evara came over much slower, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her long white mane dripping over her face with every unsteady step.
Evara took the cloak into her hands and stroked the fur lined inside against her cheek before wrapping it around herself. Her grin never faded for a moment, especially not when she noticed that her own cloak seemed noticeably thicker than Ashtik¡¯s own. ¡°Thank you Sujin, I don¡¯t know what we¡¯d do without you.¡± She wickedly grinned.
¡°I¡¯m sure you would manage,¡± he laughed.
The trio made along their route yet again until Evara seemingly remembered Sujin¡¯s display.
¡°Sujin,¡± she enthusiastically said. ¡°What were you going to show me earlier?¡±
¡°Oh, of course,¡± Sujin stammered. He reached for another little rock and knelt at her side. ¡°You asked if it was a spell,¡± Sujin began. ¡°No, this is enchantment.¡±
"What¡¯s the difference?¡±
¡°Magic is a feeling, an art. One spell performed twice will never have the exact same effects. Magicians channel magic, but they don¡¯t truly control it. Enchantment is a science. Something done once will always work in the exact same way. Cause and effect, something sorely missing from your magics.¡± He traced his finger along the rock and carved in three wavy horizontal lines.
¡°What does the symbol mean?¡± Evara asked.
¡°The symbols are a language; they mean what you think they mean. These three lines have no inherent meaning, but when I carve them in, I infuse them with the complex ideas I assign to the symbol.¡± He dropped the rock and, much to Evara¡¯s amazement, it didn¡¯t fall. It levitated exactly where he had released it. Gravity seemed meaningless as it gently floated in space. Evara poked it gently and it pushed away from her. It looked as though it might just float off into nature until, like the ignis rock, it popped into dust and little fragments.
¡°An item¡¯s ability to hold enchantments is determined by its quality. Silver holds enchantments the best, pebbles evidently don¡¯t hold up very well at all.¡±
He rooted around in the fallen leaves for a brief moment before finding a branch with a few leaves still attached.
¡°Take this,¡± Sujin offered. She took the branch and a small carving knife from his belt. ¡°Carve an ignis with the intention of burning the plant.¡±
¡°That¡¯s all I do?¡± Ev doubted.
¡°Well... no, but I¡¯ll help with the rest.¡±
¡°Okay...¡± Evara carved a very crude little flame into the branch and imagined it catching alight. She stared at it with an almost violent glare. He wrapped his hands around hers while she gripped the stick and they both closed their eyes briefly.
¡°I¡¯ll channel my mana through you, you just need to say the word.¡± Sujin whispered.
¡°What word?¡±
¡°Burn.¡±
Ashtik could see it. She could see the fear, the panic. She could see the little white-haired beacon stood atop of the elder¡¯s home, flaming crossbow in hand. She could hear the whisper she hadn¡¯t been close enough to hear back then. She heard her sister say, ¡°burn.¡± Then the whole world burnt. It wasn¡¯t the flaming bolt that lit the pyre wall, it was magic. It was Evara¡¯s first spell.
The branch lit with a copper flame. It burst high and hot, searing a hole through the canopy far above them. The explosion of flaming magic sent Ash and Sujin hurling backwards. Ash nearly ended up back into the river while Sujin found himself nearly impaled on a tree branch. The flame didn¡¯t slow, nor did Evara falter. Her eyes lit with a violently purple light as her screams of anguish erupted as a quaking beneath the very ground. The little beacon of white had become a towering pillar of power.
¡°EV!¡± Ashtik tried to call through the torrenting winds. ¡°EV! Look at me!¡±
It was of no use, the flames spread across the forest floor into a whirlwind of green fire. All that could be seen of Evara was a faint purple light at the eye of the burgeoning storm. Ash didn¡¯t hesitate. She ran forwards into the fire. She rose her black gauntlet before her face but the flame caught in her cloak and seared at her flesh. She kept pushing all the same. Had her hair not been so soaked, she¡¯d have already lost it. She worried her new steel armour would melt in on her, but it still felt cold to the touch. The flames whipped at her cheeks and scorched at her neck, but she kept moving on.
¡°Ev!¡± She called through choked breath. She realised then that it was her last breath. The flame had hogged all the rest. She choked, she gaged on flame, but she marched on. ¡°Ev!¡± She cried, but it was more a whisper. ¡°Please...¡±
Chapter Eleven: Victims of the Veytors
When the world ends, would you want to be asleep? As the horizon crumbles, or the reaper¡¯s shadow looms, would you face it; or allow your dreams to comfort you through?
The young and proud tend to believe that facing death with open eyes is a noble act, but they¡¯re wrong. Those who see his face in every waking moment, the old; ill and the acquainted, they know that to sleep ¨C to dream ¨C is a mercy one cannot discount.
Amell Fielder was a man who had learnt to blink at death. He was a man who knew what the reaper hid behind his shadow. He had felt his final breath and he had taken it twice. His heart had raced until he let it go. He had chosen to dream through his death, but his death hadn¡¯t come. Now he dreamt through life instead. A blessing and a kindness had become a plague.
¡°The blue giant?¡±
He rode through the woods in search of a trail, a hint, a sign of hope. He had been so close. He had seen the whites of her eyes, and now he could have been a nation away and not known. He refused to let his destiny ride off without him. He had lost so much; he couldn¡¯t lose hope. Not when he had been so close.
¡°Is he a friend? Is that what you¡¯re trying to tell me?¡±
Cobalt eyes traced the tree line as a fresh memory pounded in his head. A heretic, a liar. The Conclave had so publicly condemned her, and yet she must have been the Champion. They had to be lying.
¡°They¡¯ve already denounced me? I thought I had more time.¡±
The tracks led east, but hooves obscured them completely. He raced all the faster, he couldn¡¯t let the Veytors find her before he did. There was too much at stake.
¡°Veytors? Fuck, I need to wake up. Look, I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re the Black Goden or what, just let me go. I need to get moving.¡±
Fates clashed and were soon to intertwine. At the start of her journey would a promised betrayal be fulfilled. At the start of her journey would the heartbeat of the world call for her. By the end of her journey would a father be made. At the end of her journey would a mother be found.
¡°Enough! No more narration. No more cryptic half-clues. Just wake me up!¡±
¡°Please, Ash. Wake up,¡± a little voice cried. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so, so sorry. Please, just wake up.¡± She clung to Ash¡¯s hand and whimpered quietly into her palm.
¡°I-¡± Ash coughed.
¡°ASH!¡± The young girl wailed. She frantically fussed and prodded over her sister¡¯s scrapes and burns as Ash slowly came to her senses. ¡°Can you hear me? Are you alright?¡±
The sun shone through a charred hole in the treetops. Black ash covered her and her sister while white ash clung to the trees around them.
¡°I-¡± Ash tried to say, though her effort quickly failed her. ¡°I said... don¡¯t blow us up.¡± She sighed.
¡°What?¡± Ev begged, bringing her ear to Ash¡¯s cracked lips.
¡°I said... don¡¯t blow us up... It was literally the first thing... I- I said when I gave you the... the book.¡± Ash said with a pained smile. ¡°One rule.¡± She chuckled.
¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Ash. I didn¡¯t mean for this to happen. I- I don¡¯t know what I did... How I did it.¡±
¡°It''s okay, Ev.¡± She croaked. ¡°It''s not your fault. Something clearly went wrong.¡±
¡°I- I healed your burns... The worst of them, anyway.¡± Ev quietly sobbed.
¡°And the enchanter?¡±
¡°I am well, Ashtik,¡± Sujin called from afar. ¡°Not so badly burnt as to require healing.¡±
¡°Do you know what happened?¡± Ash feebly called back.
¡°I haven¡¯t the slightest clue, truth be told,¡± he said as he waded through the snowlike ash. It came up to his ankle as he limped along. ¡°It was clearly a magical explosion, but we weren¡¯t using magic. It shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±
¡°What do you remember, Ev?¡± Ash asked as she began to sit up. She ran a somewhat raw hand over Ev¡¯s feverish little cheeks.
¡°I- There was fire. Green fire, and so much of it. It looked like...¡±
¡°The wall pyre.¡± Ash finished as Ev trailed off into thought. ¡°You had a vision of the siege, didn¡¯t you?¡±
¡°Wh- yes, how did you know?¡±
¡°I saw it too. You were stood atop of the elder¡¯s home. The rains were too heavy for us to light the walls, so you fired a flaming bolt and it all went up in.¡± Ash recalled. ¡°But I saw it through your eyes, you said ¡®burn¡¯.¡±
¡°And it burned.¡±
Ash didn¡¯t know if Evara really had cast a spell back then, or why it caused her to explode now, but she quickly remembered her truer priorities. The dream; the warning.
¡°We need to move.¡± Ash sternly said. She tried to rise but quickly failed and fell to a knee until Evara caught her and took what little of Ash¡¯s steel-clad weight she could.
¡°You¡¯re going nowhere.¡± Ev protested. ¡°You can barely speak, let alone travel. You need rest.¡±
¡°There¡¯s no time,¡± Ash quietly insisted. She took to her own, far from sturdy, feet and marched downstream without another word about it.
¡°Ash?¡± The little voice pressed. ¡°Ash!¡± She called out as her sister continued on her warpath. ¡°Ashtik Sai-Weleg, you will stand still or so help me Taeva; I will set off another explosion.¡±
¡°We haven¡¯t got time to stand around and argue. The Veytors are on our trail and they gain on us every second we aren¡¯t sprinting in the opposite direction.¡± Ash shouted.
¡°Veytors? How do you know, and how did you know about my vision? What aren¡¯t you telling me?¡±
¡°We can talk while we move, Ev,¡± Ash insisted. ¡°Sujin, move your ass.¡±
¡°Of course, Ashtik.¡± He answered. ¡°But Evara is right about you needing to rest.¡±
¡°What about the way I treat you has ever suggested that I value your opinion?¡± Ash viciously snapped.
¡°Sister!¡±
¡°Whine later, move now,¡± Ash ordered one last time. The severity on her tongue and the heat in her eyes took any hope for protest and dashed them against the seared oaks.
They had made it less than ten minutes before an ancient omen sunk her heart. A murder of crows flocked to the sky at their backs. They flew from their tracks, near the scorched trees. It had to be cavalry, there would be no other reason for the birds to flee together. She considered: run and the horses would soon catch up and trample them; hide and hope they can¡¯t track them to their refuge but then they would arrive at the port city first and cut them off. She decided a fight would be her only chance. A fair fight against a horde of Veytors wouldn¡¯t go well, so something else had to be done.
¡°Ash?¡± Evara timidly whispered as her sister fell behind. Ash all but ignored her, instead whistling out to the fleeing crows. A half dozen heard her call and came to the ground before her. Ash knelt, looked into their eyes and knew.
¡°There are six Veytors at the burnt woods. It''s an advanced scout party, hundreds march from the west.¡± Ash relayed to the others. ¡°Go, keep an eye on them,¡± she ordered of the birds.
¡°What do we do?¡± Ev asked.
¡°We run!¡± Sujin insisted.
¡°No, they¡¯ll catch us eventually. We can take them by surprise, it gives us a chance. Sujin, are you any good in a fight?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Better than most,¡± he shyly answered. ¡°But not better than horseback Veytors.¡±
¡°What do you know about them, either of you?¡± Ash pressed.
The two shared worried glances between each other but it was Evara who spoke first, ¡°They hunt anything heretical. Dark magicians, Vampris and... you.¡±
¡°So, they¡¯re geared towards fighting magic?¡± Ash hurriedly asked.
¡°Yes, they wear enchanted robes instead of armour. They are less prepared for Ser Stabby than they would be for their usual foes.¡±
¡°Okay, what else do you know?¡± She pressed.
¡°They ride war chargers, not trackers.¡± Sujin put forth.
¡°So, the horses will go headfirst into whatever we offer them, so long as the rider is distracted.¡± Ash guessed.
¡°Possibly.¡±
¡°Then... can you enchant some fog? We¡¯ll draw them in, blind them, and have them charge into a ditch or some spikes.¡± Ash said with a hopeful look.
¡°That would take time to prepare. They can¡¯t be more than a few minutes away.¡± Sujin replied.
¡°But could you do it?¡±
¡°I... Yes, they aren¡¯t as capable against enchanters as they are mages. I should be able to make a strong enough fog charm.¡± He decided, balling his fist against his apron.
¡°Then get to work, I¡¯ll buy us some time,¡± Ash ordered.
¡°How?¡±
Ash whistled out again, only this time it wasn¡¯t a couple of crows that came to her call; it was all things great and small. A fox and vixen, a fluffle of rabbits, a dray of red squirrels, a prickle of hedgehogs and every colour songbird came to heed her words.
¡°Tracks, cover. Horse, block. Night, hold.¡± Ash called out, and with it, the small stampede dispersed into the woods.
¡°That¡¯s incredible.¡± Sujin awed.
¡°Get to work, enchanter.¡±
They had spent long enough on their traps. What were designed to skewer rabbits and rats, were now large enough to fell horses and men. The enchanter had spent the dusk scrawling over slabs of copper. He must have finished two-score of them before he began scattering them around the planned ambush zone. They had made a bastion of a small clearing. Spikes circled the centre where their little camp lay. They hadn¡¯t dared temp fate by lighting a fire, so Sujin had been kind enough to grant them a warming rune to cook on. The moment seemed calm, and the battle seemed far enough away that Ash could make right with her companions.
¡°I-¡± she coughed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the way I spoke to you, Sujin.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, Ashtik.¡±
¡°No, you¡¯ve been a great help this entire time. I don¡¯t ignore you because I dislike you, It''s just how I am. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Ash nearly whispered.
¡°I understand,¡± Sujin warmly insisted. ¡°But do not worry. I know you only want what''s best. I do not begrudge you a harsh tone after you saved my life so valiantly.¡±
¡°Saved your life?¡± Ash repeated.
¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡±
¡°Remember what?¡±
¡°Ash,¡± Ev whispered, ¡°you stopped me during the fire, right?¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t stop you... I passed out,¡± said Ash.
¡°What? No, you put your hand on my cheek and told me to sleep. Don¡¯t you remember?¡± Ev insisted.
Ash agonised over the memory, but there was nothing. She hadn¡¯t done that. She had collapsed on the ground and passed out. She matched eyes with the curious little girl and asked, ¡°I told you to sleep and you just fell asleep?¡±
¡°Aye.¡±
¡°Ashtik, if I may?¡± Sujin contended. Ash just shrugged through her thoughts. ¡°Well, it''s just... I am correct in assuming that you are the Champion of Black, yes?¡±
¡°Gods!¡± Evara gasped. ¡°We didn¡¯t tell you, did we? How could we be so stupid?¡±
¡°It¡¯s okay, I put the pieces together after you first mentioned the Veytors.¡± He awkwardly chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s just that the Black Goden is the patron of dreams, no? Maybe he has granted you some power over dreams.¡±
¡°Well, he certainly has power over mine,¡± Ash grumbled.
¡°What do you mean?¡± Ev asked.
¡°He, or it, talks to me while I sleep. I couldn¡¯t remember at first. I¡¯d wake up and it was as though the dreams didn¡¯t happen. Now? Almost every night he has some dire warning and dangerous prophecy.¡±
¡°Like what?¡±
¡°Like when I passed out in the fire. I saw some massive knight in blue armour riding to meet us. He was following our tracks but soon realised the Veytors were ahead of him.¡±
¡°This... Knight, is he a friend?¡± Ev asked.
¡°I... think so. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll find out soon enough, though.¡± The Champion sighed.
¡°What else has he told you?¡±
¡°I... I dreamt the old smith murdered me. I¡¯ve been warned about a betrayal a few times too, so signs aren¡¯t looking good for you, Enchanter.¡± Ash teased. He took it as something of an accusation by the horror in his eye.
¡°Ashtik, I wouldn¡¯t. It would make no sense to betray you. Afterall, you hold the key to my future. If I hand it in without you, it would be rejected.¡± He insisted.
¡°Yeah, don¡¯t worry. Prophecy and dreams... They aren¡¯t really reliable. It''s going to turn out that a smith¡¯s hammer will fall from the roof and hit her on the head or something mundane. If it was as simple as that, it needn¡¯t be so cryptically conveyed.¡± Evara laughed. ¡°Still, don¡¯t get any ideas.¡±
He managed a laugh, though it was far from revelrous.
¡°Anything else?¡± Ev half-jokingly urged.
¡°Just a giant thousand-legged spider, a blue giant wielding a sword of light, a creepy blonde guy... What else? Oh yeah, one where you betray me and I¡¯m just kinda cool with it. Also, I''m pretty sure I was some kinda empress in that one.¡± Ash recalled.
¡°Oh, is that all?¡± Ev teased.
¡°Something about stealing the stars,¡± she pondered with a sigh, ¡°nope; that¡¯s it!¡±
¡°The- the er, spider. How giant, exactly?¡± Sujin quietly stammered. He spoke as one would when they mask some undesirable fear.
¡°Size of a large town, I think. Why, you¡¯re not scared of spiders are you?¡± Ash grinned.
¡°Of course I am! You¡¯re supposed to be, that¡¯s why they look so wrong.¡± He masked a yelp with a slight cough before settling back into his seat.
He stunk of liar''s magic. His fingers dripped with the grease of cruel enchantment. His chin ran with the spittle of falsehood. The creature had followed them far for this moment. This kill.
Its fleshy fangs licked its broken lips as its shuddering spine rattled noiselessly. The white-hair was a threat, she was so charged; so ready to blow. It crept closer to the liar while keeping her as far away as it could. It could almost taste him, the foulness; the bile. The drool poured out by the bucket as it came closer.
¡°Ash...¡± The white-hair whispered.
¡°I know, stay still.¡± The other replied.
It wasn¡¯t going to stop till his organs were pulp. Till it saw through his eyes and spoke with his lips. The bones that meshed together to form a jaw cracked and shattered to open wide enough to fit him whole. It reared to lunge, but something else blocked its path. The man ran, and the girl stood as a threat. It watched him wrap the white-hair in his vile arms. He lied even now, pretending to protect her. It would rip and tear him apart, even if it meant slaughtering these others.
¡°Stop,¡± and it stopped. It didn¡¯t know why it stopped, but it did. This woman, the huntress, approached it so very slowly. She crept like it did. She was low to the ground, with her back turned to him and a gentle fist held out.
¡°Can she not just speak to it, like with the bear?¡± The liar asked in a hush so silent, it almost couldn¡¯t hear him.
¡°That¡¯s not an animal, Sujin.¡± The white-hair whispered back. She was right, this was no animal, it was a creature of promise. Something more than simple mortals. Brought to the world by dead gods. Carried on hell flame. It was an abomination. It was a punishment. It was a direwolf, and it hungered.
¡°Don¡¯t look at it.¡± The huntress sharply barked. ¡°Look at the ground.¡±
She was scared. She hid it well in her actions, but her voice quivered and shook. Any power she had held over the creature was lost in the shiver of her spine. She never dared to look at it, but that didn¡¯t stop her approach. She neared with almost royal reverence. A fitting stance for a lesser creature. As she came within a few paces, she knelt. One knee in the dirt, her head rested against the other. Her outstretched hand still called for it, though her other interested it more. Oily black steel. It hadn¡¯t seen the kind in an age. It didn¡¯t know if that made her a friend, or a thief.
It made a silent and tentative step towards her, snarling all the way. It sniffed at her balled fist but didn¡¯t trust the scent. There was something old on her, something much older than it. It snapped its jaws and gnashed its teeth. It made the young white-hair yelp and it looked as though she would charge to the huntress¡¯ aid, until the contemptuous enchanter clawed her back and forced her into place against her will. It snapped again until it heard her. She sounded angry. She panted and huffed from beneath her bow. She sounded half ready to strike, but she remained still as a deadwood.
It would waste no more time on this panting cur. Its fangs fell to sprawling tendrils and readied to tear her limbs apart, then she moved. She moved much too quickly. She bound into the air in some kind of somersault before she landed on its spiked back with a violent crash.
Ash tore Ser Stabby from his sheath and wrapped the shaft around the beast¡¯s neck. She knew she couldn¡¯t kill it, but she could make it submit. She strangled the life from the creature as it bucked and thrashed around the forest. It tore between trees and dove over their spikes in an attempt to buck her, but she remained. Eventually, she managed to dig a boot into its neck while she pulled back on the spear. The bone-crunching snap brought the creature to the ground, but it wouldn¡¯t kill it. She dragged it onto its back and wrapped her legs around its leg and her arms around its neck. The beast struggled for what felt like an eternity before she heard it, the most beautiful sound in the world. The beast sneezed.
A beaming smile cracked between her cheeks as she fell back from it and caught her breath on the ground.
The others saw the beast was paused and Sujin rushed forth with his axe in hand.
¡°No.¡± Ash sharply warned with a single bloody hand raised at him. He stopped in his tracks and Evara came to his back. He held her close behind him and made ready his axe.
Ashtik drew a warbled breath before rising to her jellied legs. The beast matched her. It rose and rose and rose until it towered over her, three times the size it had been. Ash signalled behind her back and Evara knew it meant to kneel. She dragged Sujin down with her and forced his head into a bow. Ash didn¡¯t bow. She stood as tall as she could with her spear stretched out towards the beast. She locked her eyes to it and knew that she had won. The primordial apathy at the sight of her had faded. The ungodly wrath at the sight of Sujin had dissipated. Now, it was afraid. It was lesser. It was beaten.
¡°Kneel.¡± Ash spat through bloodied teeth. It snarled, it gnashed, it knelt. The beast bowed its head to her feet and sneezed again. She raised a subtly shaking hand and placed it on the beast¡¯s brow. It responded well, it submitted, so she pressed on. She moved closer and held her head against its and asked, ¡°what¡¯s your name?¡±
The answer was muddled. It was jumbled. It was tongues and terror, a history of nightmares held in a single beast. She nearly fell back at hearing it, her lips trembled and refused to repeat what she had heard despite her mind¡¯s orders.
¡°Ronald?¡±
The beast snarled and gnashed at its own leg. It tore it off and held it out for her. She realised she was supposed to take it. It was heavy and oozed with black viscous blood. It nodded at her, it wanted her to do something, so she threw the leg into the forest and he gleefully chased after it.
¡°Ash?¡± A concerned little voice whispered from the camp.
¡°It¡¯s okay, just don¡¯t get too close. His name is Ronald.¡± Ash smirked. The creature returned with its own, awfully humanlike, leg dangling from its amalgamated jaw.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.¡°Ronald?¡± Ev scoffed. The beast snarled at her mockery and she quickly threw her hands up in surrender.
¡°It''s a lovely name,¡± Ev lied with a slight ¨C though suppressed ¨C snicker. It seemed to appease the beast. That, and the murderous glare Ashtik shot it the instant he snarled at Evara.
¡°Ronald, have you seen any Veytors?¡± Ash asked. He tilted his head at the question. ¡°Grey men on horses.¡±
He made a noise halfway between a bark and the combined screams of every babe ever violently sundered from their mother¡¯s grasp; then he scuffled off into the night.
¡°W-was that a no?¡± Ev shuddered.
¡°I have no idea.¡±
Once the adrenaline had worn off, and her cuts and scrapes had been healed, it came time for yet another round of questions.
¡°Ashtik...¡± Sujin innocently began.
¡°Oh, not now.¡± She snipped.
¡°Ash,¡± Evara said in a scolding tone.
¡°Right,¡± Ash sighed, ¡°Sujin, I have spoken more than I am comfortable with for the time being. Please understand that this... is not a personal attack, nor is it the result of some withheld grudge and/or judgment. Right now, I would like nothing more than to disappear into the woods and meditate in silence but our current predicament... precludes my...¡± Ash trailed off as she tried to recall the rehearsed lines. ¡°What was it?¡± She asked of Evara.
¡°But our current predicament precludes such from occurring. I ask...¡± Evara enthusiastically urged.
¡°I ask that you remain patient with me, and I will be glad to chat at another point.¡± Ash finished with a grunt.
¡°I- what was that?¡± Sujin half laughed.
¡°We rehearsed it so she wouldn¡¯t come off as such a bitch to you.¡± Evara laughed. She tossed Ash a thick cloak and the great heretic buried herself in it, never to be seen by the world again.
¡°But if you want to talk, I¡¯m always here.¡± Ev smiled.
¡°It''s just, why was she so afraid of that beast?¡± Sujin asked.
¡°Did you not see it?¡± Evara scoffed.
¡°Well, yes it was rather scary looking but... I saw your sister smack a grizzly bear on the nose for so much as nipping at you. That thing wasn¡¯t half the size, yet it had her genuinely shaken.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve never seen what a direwolf can do, have you?¡±
¡°I- No, is it truly that awful?¡±
¡°In our native language, we call them Rakhos; soul-stealer. It is not an exaggeration to say there is no worse fate on the northern isles.¡±
¡°But it named itself Ronald?¡±
¡°She was joking... I think?¡± Ev guessed. ¡°Look, I¡¯m kinda tired from the whole, magically exploding thing. Do you think you could keep watch while I get some sleep?¡±
¡°Of course, I will wake you if any birds sing of villainous horizons.¡± He joked.
The galaxy unfolded above them. The ever-living stars; sprawled and beautiful. She tried to recall some of the constellations. There was the seamstress, the tower, the Golden tear, heaven¡¯s belt. Those were the obvious ones, though. She traced the twin moons while they settled their distant paths. She recalled Evara telling her that if you travelled to the south end of the continent, you would go the entire night and never catch a glimpse of Terra, the larger twin. If you headed all the way south, straight to the ice desert, neither sister would show in the night sky. Ev had said that heaven¡¯s belt would appear differently in the sky too. She couldn¡¯t recall how so, but it didn¡¯t matter. If her quest included marching through the snowy oblivion to the south then the gods truly had chosen the wrong Champion. She would quit her campaign before the first flake had fallen. She had her mother¡¯s dark tone and her same inclination towards warm climates. Tenpi, that would be a nice place for her quest to take her. Sea-side tropical islands. Beautiful places and beautiful people. The villagers had often confused Miel for a Tenpic mae, but Ash knew that she had been born to the deserts of the Vamish belt to the east. Miel had never said exactly where, but she had told Evara a bedtime story once. A tale of the steel gulf at the eastern edge of the world. Ash was too busy stitching up her father¡¯s wounds to listen in. She ought to ask Ev about it some time, the girl always loved to tell a tale; even if the tale wasn¡¯t her own.
¡°Ashtik,¡± the enchanter whispered. She pretended to be asleep. If what he wanted was important, he would wake her. Otherwise, she hadn¡¯t the will to suffer another conversation yet.
¡°Ashtik,¡± he repeated somewhat louder.
¡°Aye?¡±
¡°There¡¯s a bird,¡± he said with a severe tone.
¡°It''s a forest, Sujin. There''s going to be a few birds.¡±
¡°Is it not one of yours?¡± He asked.
¡°Where is it?¡±
¡°The tree line.¡±
¡°So not nearby?¡±
¡°I suppose not,¡± he gulped. He made no attempt to retreat from her nest. She realised he wouldn¡¯t settle until she made some show of talking to the bird. With all the power of the chosen one, Ashtik rolled over and looked out at the gently cooing sparrow.
¡°Oh no,¡± she tiredly groaned.
¡°Is it one of yours?¡±
¡°It¡¯s a fucking sparrow,¡± she cried. ¡°Ev wake up.¡±
¡°Is that bad? Is it not one of yours?¡±
¡°Sparrows don¡¯t live in these woods. It¡¯s one of his,¡± she seethed.
¡°His?¡±
¡°My patron,¡± Ash scoffed. She rolled onto her belly and pushed herself up. ¡°Let¡¯s call it an omen.¡±
¡°Y-your patron? You mean th-th- the forgotten Goden?¡± Sujin stammered. His wide eyes exploded beyond their sockets and clung to the little sparrow. ¡°He¡¯s watching us... He can see us?¡±
¡°Aye, he¡¯s a bit of a perv.¡± She said just loud enough that the innocent little sparrow could hear.
¡°A- a perv? The Goden of sorrow and dreams?¡±
¡°Aye, where do you think you get all of those weird sex dreams from... Straight from his creepy little imagination!¡± Ash called out again.
A little grumble heralded the awakening of young Evara. She thrashed out a limp wrist and covered her head beneath the pack she had been using as a pillow.
¡°Why am I waking up to you two shouting about weird sex dreams?¡± She groaned.
¡°You need to get up, sis. I think something¡¯s coming.¡±
¡°The Veytors?¡±
¡°Maybe.¡±
¡°At least if they kill me I get to finish my nap.¡±
¡°I¡¯m the Champion of dreams. Go back to sleep and I''ll give you terrible nightmares.¡± Ash smirked.
¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± Ev groaned from beneath her pillow.
¡°The library is burning down and it¡¯s all your fault.¡±
¡°No...¡±
¡°The Conclave ask for your advice before a massive hall of scholars and magicians, but oh no! You forgot all your lines and now you look like an idiot.¡±
Evara mumbled, ¡°you¡¯re an asshole,¡± but she did rise at last. The three stood shoulder to shoulder as they scanned the land around them for any sign of the Veytors.
The sign came at last. First, the sparrow made off; then, a hundred more flew at its back. They rode from the west. They must have been close by, close enough to feel. Ash knelt in the dirt and sunk her hand beneath the topsoil. Badom badom badom. She could feel them galloping. They didn¡¯t canter or saunter, they sprinted and leapt towards her. It was as though they knew her exact location.
Ash whispered, ¡°ten seconds,¡± and unslung Ser Stabby. Her finger stroked the little sigil that meant death to all before her. Sujin wrapped a leather strap around the handle of his double-headed axe and drew out a small bronze bar with the ignis charm engraved. Evara drew her bow and nocked an arrow, though she didn¡¯t draw the string back yet. She waited until she could see her target.
¡°Ev, climb a tree,¡± Ash ordered, her eyes never swaying from the oncoming threat.
¡°On it,¡± Ev answered. It almost surprised Ash that she didn¡¯t protest, but she was glad to skip the pointless argument. Evara mounted a tall oak to their backs and drew her arrow yet again.
Badom. Badom. Badom.
They would come into view soon. Six of them, all trained killers on horseback. How did they know where she was? The animals had been thorough in clearing her tracks. They must have had someone with a soul power like hers and Evara¡¯s. Some sort of tracking ability. If that was so, they wouldn¡¯t just march through this camp if Ash hid, they would search for her. If they knew she was hiding nearby, some might dismount.
¡°Sujin, hide!¡± She ordered.
¡°What? But you said-¡±
¡°Now!¡±
She dashed to a treetop while he rolled beneath a pile of spring leaves.
The first burst the ferns and stopped dead in the open air. A young man with the look of an old one. His skin was as clear and youthful as any man in his twenties could dream of, yet wrinkles wrought every angle of his face. His beard had grown prematurely grey, his eyes had faded to the muddy grey of frozen winter dirt. He snarled like a dog as he took in a deep sniff.
¡°She¡¯s here!¡± He growled to the men at his back. Five riders, all wearing the same grey robes but for one. The last man, clearly the eldest, wore a black cloak with a red cross going through it over his robes. He was also the only clean-shaven man of the group.
¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± The older man asked. His voice was as harsh as scraping teeth on slate. He wasn¡¯t like the first man; he didn¡¯t look nearly as rabid. His eyes were cold, calm. This was a duty to him, dire and dour but necessary.
¡°I¡¯m sure. Magic that powerful is not soon forgotten.¡± The first man answered.
¡°Then fan out. Stick in twos and find them. Be wary, the reports must be wrong, this heretic is clearly a very powerful mage.¡± The elder ordered.
Three groups of two. The elder and the tracker headed towards Evara, two riders moved towards Sujin and the last two dismounted in Ash¡¯s direction.
¡°Heretic!¡± The elder called. ¡°Repent well, this needn¡¯t come to blood.¡±
She had to act quickly before the tracker could sniff out Evara. Sujin was to go first, and first he went. An ear-splitting explosion rang through the forest to the north. The horses reared but the riders kept their reign.
¡°Dark Magus!¡± One of the veytors called out.
¡°Band together!¡± The elder ordered. They came to the centre of the clearing; it seemed a terrible decision to group together after an explosion until the men began chanting together.
¡°Pratis tame!¡± They called in chorus. ¡°Pratis tame¡¯ablas ignis¡¯ablas Detros.¡±
¡°This will not work, heretic!¡± The elder called. ¡°We have sealed the woods from your vile magics. You are defenceless, just give up before more harm is caused.¡±
Ash¡¯s eyes caught Sujin¡¯s from afar. She looked at him in hopes some rune would hold an easy victory, but she could see that his runes had failed under the Veytor¡¯s ward. The look he returned her was not one of battle strategy or raw confidence in Ashtik¡¯s abilities, but more so a look that simply said, ¡°not it.¡±
She let loose a terrible sigh before she gracefully danced down to the ground. Two Veytors were injured from Sujin¡¯s explosion which gave them a mild advantage, but the mist charms hadn¡¯t worked. If the Veytors realised Ash wasn¡¯t a mage, they would mount up and run her down. She had to do as much damage as she could before then.
She skulked through the shadows. She danced between moonbeams. Her feet barely graced the ground as she moved north to finish the injured men.
The first lay bloodied against a splintered tree Stump. Death would come easily to him, and his friend wouldn¡¯t bode too much better on his own.
Ash played the role of the black heretic well. She stalked like a wicked predator up to the wounded man. It was a kill she had made a thousand times against trapped animals, only now her prey truly hated her. She could see it in his eyes as he drowned on his own blood. He wasn¡¯t afraid of dying, he was offended that she would touch him. He was outraged that a filthy blasphemer would cover his mouth with her dirty metal hand. He was simply indignant that it was a liar''s blade that blocked his airways and tore at his artery. Fortunately for him, he did not live long enough to see her draw his shortsword and fling it at his compatriot. She had no way to muffle the noise of his death. His death rattle was more so a vile curse. Screaming, screeching profanity as blood quickly filled his lungs.
There could be no more sneakery. She marched out from the brambles with her spear held tightly at her side. The sight of her, the blood-soaked heretic covered head to toe in uncanny black plate armour with a powerful, pulsating aura oozing from her gauntlet, it would have been enough to scare any man; but a fanatic would have seen the devil herself. She didn¡¯t take the first step, instead, she raised her steel hand high. That alone was enough to startle one of the younger men. Then she shot her hand down to the ground, and a veytor lay dead in the mud. An arrow dug itself between his ribs, through his heart and out of his chest. The arrow came almost the whole way through but the shaft splintered and snagged within his chest. He didn¡¯t even have time to wince in pain. The death was near instant. A pop and a fall.
The Veytors didn¡¯t know where to look. The heretic, or the hidden archer. They realised how terrible their position was. They were fortified against magic, but that wasn¡¯t a bloody staff in Ashtik¡¯s hand.
The elder¡¯s empty gaze didn¡¯t dread her, unlike his subordinates. He placed a calm hand each on his two remaining comrades before he mildly ordered, ¡°save her.¡±
The two young men charged headfirst with their blades drawn. They both had greater reach and larger builds, but they wielded shortswords. They might as well have swung kitchen knives against her steel-shafted spear. She hopped back from the first strike and ducked the next. She swung her spear low and clipped one man¡¯s calf before she drove the spear into the ground and pushed herself through the air with it. She drew them away from the elder and towards Sujin¡¯s hiding place. She dodged and weaved, blocked and parried as best as she could. She made it look effortless, but it wasn¡¯t. Ash was acutely aware that a single mistake could spell defeat. The men were at a disadvantage but were skilled and ferocious. For each slash one missed, the other would arrive with two more. She had no chance to counter-strike them as every time one Veytor would leave an opening, the other would cover it. It must have been two dozen blows that buzzed past her before she came upon the pile of leaves, and the aid that lay beneath it.
He erupted out with a bellowing war cry. His axe slashed and tore through the air. The shock of it proved enough to knock one Veytor down, but the other quickly moved to help his comrade. Ash didn¡¯t let him. She caught his blade with the serrations at the back of her spear and dragged the blade from his hand. She pulled herself closer to him and saw her dirk sparkle with a scarlet splash.
She rose to see the elder with his back turned. He wasn¡¯t bothered by Ash but by the hidden archer.
The Sparrow-Knight made her slow way over to the old man while Sujin hacked and slashed at the retreating Veytor.
¡°You are the heretic, are you not?¡± The old man asked.
¡°If you say so.¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°But you are not the magician.¡±
¡°No.¡±
¡°Then who?¡±
She dragged her bloodied spear to his back. ¡°You¡¯ll never know,¡± she swore.
¡°Very well. It didn¡¯t need to happen like this, heretic. We could have redeemed you.¡± He spoke as calmly as ever. Ash tried to match his cool tone, but the heat of battle blood drew her hatred and her wrath into her words.
¡°I don¡¯t need your redemption, I just want to be left alone,¡± she spat.
He dodged with an impossible speed. The spear tip that had been at his back now fell limply through the air. She rounded her spear but it was of no use, he had gotten his blade to her belly. He slit it across her and stepped away as though the battle were over. The arrogant old man thought he could slice through plate metal; his slash didn¡¯t even scuff the polish.
She swung stabby almost like a club, but he dodged away before it could contact. He dashed back to the attack, stabbing the point of his blade into each joint of her armour. She simply wasn¡¯t fast enough to block him.
¡°I¡¯m almost disappointed,¡± he goaded without a trace of emotion. ¡°I heard you managed to strike White, yet another lie in your name; no doubt.¡±
She backed away from him, remembering the power that had defeated Aarov. The gauntlet. She looked down at her gifted power, then she looked up at the old man before her and noticed what stood behind him. A horde of sparrows watched her battle from within the trees.
Ashtik Sai-Weleg; a huntress, not a champion. She called upon the birds to fight at her side. Her flesh hand rose and the sparrows fluttered at her command. He noticed. He turned to face the gathering quarrel at his back, all but disregarding their mistress as he did. She seized the chance and struck out with a diving strike. He stepped aside and she came to a roll before him. It was part of the plan; the birds flew at her back. She raised her arms high and the hundred, hundred little sparrows launched themselves at the elder. He was fast, almost as fast as the Champion of White, but he couldn¡¯t stop them all. One by one, they struck him at their highest speeds. Many died to his blades, many more died by their own attacks, but it was working.
The birds retreated behind her as she slashed her spear back. They became entranced by the tip of Ser Stabby and did as it did. Ash twirled the spear behind her back and the sparrows darted behind her. Then she ushered the blade on with a smooth-flowing slash. The birds followed along. She flourished, she twirled, she slashed, she stabbed. Each pass would have a dozen feathered missiles strike out at his head, his heart, his hand and his ¡®vitals¡¯.
After he was bloody and beaten, and the birds were too sparse to be of any more use, she released them and charged at the Veytor. She thrust out from above, then beneath and then she slashed out at his knees. No strike so much as threatened an uneven shave. Even disgruntled as he was, he managed to outpace her entirely.
He raised his bloody blade in his broken hand towards Ashtik and spat his final gravelled word, ¡°Heretic!¡±
It was time for a finale. She aimed her spear over his shoulder, at the Veytor occupying Sujin. She stroked the sigil of the little sparrow and let the explosion carry the tip into the young Veytor¡¯s shoulder. Ashtik wasted no time; she knew it had surprised the old man. She dashed past him and let the chain wrap around his neck. He struggled valiantly. She dropped down to the ground and held her entire weight into the chain. It wouldn¡¯t be enough. He struggled too well and she knew she couldn¡¯t hold it.
She was a spirit of vengeance, clad in the old iron. She was his master, and she needed help. He tore through the moonlit shadows and made for the Veytor¡¯s throat. The old man feared him, but the old man couldn¡¯t do anything about it while she held his throat. He clawed at the old man¡¯s belly, tore him open and readied for the main meal.
He was starving and this man reeked of fear and righteousness.
Ronald growled and cackled as he crept up on the man. His main eyes liquified and drained off into the thousand other eyes which each sprouted like the shoots of a flower.
¡°You can¡¯t... It¡¯s a war crime...¡± The Veytor begged.
¡°My existence is a capital crime to your people. I¡¯m already serving a death sentence,¡± Ash spat.
The thousand tendrils reached out and filled every pore on his face. Two large stalks ¨C sprouted from Ronald¡¯s eye sockets ¨C suctioned themselves to the Veytor¡¯s eyes. She could see it drain him. His body, his mind, his soul. All nought but food for this beast. She could see his lungs liquify first, his entire chest simply collapsed inwards. Then his muscles and fat. Finally, Ronald melted his bones to a broth and slurped them down. Only then did he take the mind. Direwolves kept their prey alive until the punishment was through in its entirety. After the feast was complete, he let the Veytor go, or what little of the Veytor remained. Namely, his skin and nails. A saggy bag of paper-thin, fatless flesh. It deflated and crumbled to the ground with a pathetic slap.
The little battle was won. The time came to take inventory. What had been lost?
¡°Ash...¡± a little voice cried. The shake in her voice tore a hole in Ash¡¯s belly and her head ripped around to face her.
¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Ash called back.
¡°It¡¯s Sujin... He¡¯s hurt.¡±
She crossed the battlefield and came to her knees before the enchanter. He lay with his belly half open and his armour splintered open.
¡°What happened?¡± Ash demanded. She got to work on his wound, holding down with enough pressure to stem the bloodless.
¡°It''s my fault,¡± Ev cried. ¡°He was struggling so I came to help him.¡± Ev pointed a hand out to the fallen Veytor. Ash hadn¡¯t noticed how much damage he had taken when she hit him with her spear. The man was a pincushion ¨C More arrowhead than man ¨C but he didn¡¯t matter anymore. They needed to help Sujin.
¡°Ev, I know it''s a lot, but can you heal any of this?¡± Ash asked.
¡°I tried. The magic ward blocks soul magic too.¡±
¡°It hasn¡¯t blocked me?¡± Ash noted.
¡°Good for you, now what do we do?¡±
¡°Right,¡± Ash considered. ¡°Ronald!¡±
The beast galloped out from some velvet shadow and greeted the trio with a deep bow.
¡°Carry Sujin away from the ward.¡± She slowly ordered. The beast didn¡¯t seem pleased with the idea of touching the enchanter unless he got to take a bite for his troubles, but Ash forced his compliance.
They followed closely behind as Sujin lay atop the wolf. It was not lost on Ash that he had been unresponsive, but she was sure that Evara could bring him back. At least, she hoped so.
The ward didn¡¯t span far, especially not now that the casters were all dead. Ash cut away at his shirt and cleaned out the wound with some boiling water. Then Evara began. Gold flickered in steel, then it consumed her. Her golden glow, radiant as it was, was under her control. There was no risk of a runaway spell like with the flame, but that didn¡¯t stop Ash from worrying. She kept at it for a long while. Too long. Evara should have passed out by this point, but she pressed on. Sweat poured from her brow. Her chest heaved as she gasped for each laborious breath. Her hands shook as violently as though she lifted some impossible weight from his bloody chest.
¡°Ev...¡± Ash worriedly grunted.
¡°I can hold it.¡± She growled back through gritted teeth.
¡°It''s enough Ev, you have to stop.¡±
¡°Not until he- he wakes up.¡± She panted.
Her power was beyond anything she had ever been capable of. Ash saw Sujin¡¯s flesh stitch itself back together before her. The blood still stained him, and he had lost much, but he wasn¡¯t losing any more. It didn¡¯t seem within her golden hands whether he would survive or not any longer. His fate lay at the feet of the gods.
Chapter Twelve: Sing of Spiders
The bard made her strings cry. It was fitting; for she would never cry again. She had already drunk her last cup, sang her last song. She could live ¨C easily so ¨C but she wouldn¡¯t. They never wanted to be saved. Not when damnation was so beautiful. Not when death came with a cherry kiss on cherished lips.
She watched the bard¡¯s deft hands as they danced across her pale wood harp. Such practiced grace, such perfection in her precision. Her delicate hands and her gentle smile, her soft amber eyes and her scruffy pixie cut hair. It all served a purpose. It all hid the monster within.
They locked eyes a half dozen times throughout the song. Promises were made with simple glances, and moonlit bedsheets glittered behind her eyes. The tune carried a final note. A resonant tear, echoing through the candlelit ballroom. It was a moment of awe, a moment of silence, before the thunderous applause rang out.
The worst part of any song was the applause. Why a crowd of fools thought it necessary to be the loudest thing in the room that had moments before been filled with such quiet majesty is a mystery best left for those who cared to study foolish men.
¡°Buy me a drink?¡± the bard whispered. She sat at the other side of the intimate little table and made no secret of her intent. She bore a greedy little grin in the corner of her pink painted lips.
¡°That would make a change.¡±
The bard chuckled at that, ¡°Not used to being on that side of the table?¡±
¡°Not used to actually paying for drinks.¡±
¡°Then I''ll not change your habit,¡± the bard giggled. The noise was false no matter how pretty. She laughed to disarm, to lull. ¡°Darren!¡± She called out. A young man dashed to their side, a cloth in hand and a smile cracking his cheeks.
¡°My Lady,¡± he bowed.
¡°Yeah, be a darling and get me a whiskey. Oh, and something impressively expensive for the raven-haired beauty here,¡± the bard ordered. Darren made away without another word, nor regard for the dozens of drunk gentlemen vying for his attention across the halls.
¡°I didn¡¯t take you for the whiskey type.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not,¡± she chuckled, ¡°I¡¯m just trying to impress you.¡±
¡°There¡¯s nothing less impressive than someone trying to impress.¡±
¡°Your lips say I''m unimpressive, but you haven¡¯t blinked away from me once. Then again, you haven¡¯t asked my name yet either,¡± the bard sighed. She leant forward onto the little table. Her amber eyes caught the candle light as they danced to some unsung tune known only to this woman.
¡°Names mean so little, I know what you are and that¡¯s enough.¡±
¡°Then I''m at a disadvantage,¡± the bard said.
¡°Get used to it.¡±
The drinks arrived in iced glasses. For the bard, a double of some near ancient bourbon, a slice of lime on the dish at its side. Then the server placed a crystal flute of sanguine delight. The smell was obvious, though the bard had little chance to recognize it. She took her whiskey and pretended to take a sip as she narrowed her eyes.
¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me then, darling, if not who you are; then what you are?¡± The bard asked from beneath her glass.
Smoky black lips touched the crystal flute. Darren had done his job well; it was just the vintage she sought. Rich, decadent and well-aged. It would have been perfect, had it not been a man.
¡°I¡¯m nothing but a spider in the attic, darling.¡±
The night carried along. The spider weaved her web. This was a part of society she should have adored. The flowing dresses, the perfectly sewn suits. The beauty and grace of dance and song with the raw heat of passion. Had that been what she saw, she¡¯d have lived in ecstasy, but this was as false as she. Men danced with politically convenient women. Women drank not for the love of wine, but for the boredom of company. The dances were rigid, the passion was stale. Everything was flat, even this bard. She needed no effort to wrap this auburn-haired songstress around her finger. There was no sport in it, no thrill. She twirled her new partner across the floor. The green hem of her gown dusted the dancefloor as she spun. She took her hand, and her waist, and held her close enough to feel the bard¡¯s ragged breath on her neck.
She forced herself to imagine amethyst eyes, and snow-white hair. Tan skin wrapped in scarred leather. She imagined teaching the huntress to dance. She¡¯d be awful at it, but she¡¯d love it. They¡¯d twirl and swing, float and laugh. Her snowangel would step on her toes as she learnt the moves, and she would lock her eyes and make her feel human again. They would make mistake, after mistake, after mistake; and it would be... Brilliant.
¡°Come on,¡± the bard whispered as the song came to its end. She dragged the spider along by her hand as they routed through the shambling crowds and the lamplit streets. They pierced the haze of night and rounded the final corner to the bard¡¯s cosy little home. It was exactly as Darren had said. Small and unassuming on the outside, lavish and luxury within. It didn¡¯t belong to the bard, but to her masters.
¡°Make yourself comfortable, I''ll get us some drinks,¡± the bard said with a hushed wink.
The spider slung her hand across the stone set marble hearth. Dust. It hadn¡¯t been used in a long while. The bard was further along in her illness than she had realised.
With a flick of her wrist, the hearth erupted in a warmth of fire. A flash of red settled to an orange glow across the marble abode. Her home was designed in the Forgeland way, brick walls and oaken struts. A large cushioned seat before the fire, fit for seating three or more.
She peeled off her black velvet gloves and kicked her boots to the wall before draping herself over the couch like a muse in some ancient masterpiece.
¡°So, what do you think?¡± The bard asked from behind her. She circled the couch, her wandering eyes searching for some treasure beneath the spider¡¯s gown.
¡°Cosy.¡±
¡°Indeed it is. Could be a whole lot cosier, though,¡± the bard laughed. She sat herself on the couch and quickly downed her drink. ¡°That¡¯s... terrible,¡± she spluttered. ¡°Want one?¡±
¡°Are you trying to get me drunk?¡± The spider teasingly accused.
¡°I would never be so crass!¡± The bard laughed. ¡°But it couldn¡¯t hurt my chances, right?¡±
It was almost a shame. The woman was beautiful, especially under the firelight. She blushed with every drink, but she didn¡¯t wilt away like some ¡®proper¡¯ lady. Had she chosen another life, she might have made for a fun night.
¡°What did the council promise you?¡± The spider asked.
¡°Wh- who?¡±
¡°Xem Da¡¯ark. What did they offer you?¡± She calmly pressed.
¡°I don¡¯t know what that is?¡± The bard lied.
The spider wrapped a single hand around her neck. The points of her burgundy nails sank into her throat as her palm covered her nape.
¡°Don¡¯t lie to me, Elisa,¡± The spider whispered. The girl stammered some falsehoods and benign denials, but sense caught her tongue after a light squeeze.
¡°How do you know my name?¡± The bard¡¯s voice broke at the question. She could smell the tears as they welled up in her dove wing eyes.
¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you. I still keep tabs on the council, from time to time. I know they sent you to kill Donaleaf.¡±
¡°I- I-¡±
¡°Answers, girl. And remember, I don¡¯t like liars. What did they offer you?¡±
¡°P-Power.¡±
¡°They were to make you full Vampris?¡±
¡°Y-Yes.¡±
¡°So you are still a fledgling?¡±
¡°Y-Yes. P-Please, I don¡¯t want to die.¡±
¡°Yet you wish to become Vampris. To never feel the warmth of sunlight, or the chill of a biting wind again. How is that not death?¡±
¡°I-I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m sorry.¡±
¡°How were you to kill the king?¡±
¡°I- I was invited... To the court. I am to play for his son¡¯s naming. I would poison his wine during the celebration.¡±
¡°How terribly mundane. A holy Champion deserves a grander demise,¡± the spider sighed. She sat herself up behind the bard and wrapped her legs around her waist as she drew herself in towards her slender neck.
¡°Why does the council want him dead?¡± She whispered.
¡°His... His war,¡± she panted thought her tears, ¡°with queen Vias. He has to lose.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Because... The mother. She saw demise wearing a black hand rising in the Forgelands,¡± the bard whispered with a shiver. The spider drew closer. Close enough that her teeth stroked against the gentle golden skin of this would-be assassin.
¡°Demise? Of the council?¡±
¡°Of the world,¡± she squeaked. She tried to edge her head away from the spider, but a firm hand held her in place. ¡°She saw a black cloud blot out the sky.¡±
The spider couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. She wrapped her left hand around the bard¡¯s face and whispered, ¡°Well that¡¯s... Brilliant.¡±
¡°But,¡± the bard whimpered, ¡°you would die with the rest of us.¡±
¡°You haven¡¯t met the snowangel. If she wants the world to end, then it¡¯ll end.¡±
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.¡°You admire she who would bring the apocalypse?¡± The girl accused.
¡°I love she who would bring the apocalypse.¡±
¡°Then you¡¯re as mad as she.¡±
¡°Maybe,¡± she chuckled, ¡°but what is love, but being happily insane?¡±
¡°So, you¡¯ll kill me for your loving insanity? Drain my blood for your insane lover?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll kill you because my snowangel needs Donaleaf¡¯s help, but I''ll not drink your blood.¡± She sighed.
¡°You¡¯d waste a kill? You truly aren¡¯t Vampris.¡±
¡°Thank you,¡± the spider chuckled, ¡°but blood is addictive, and I¡¯ve got a sweet tooth. I can manage a glass for strength, but to drain a beautiful young woman like you? That might send me on a rampage. Now hush, it''s time to sleep.¡±
¡°No- no- no! Please!¡±
¡°Shhhh, it won¡¯t hurt,¡± she whispered. That much was true, at least. Death on a kiss offered the woman fresh bliss. Death as a Vampris offered this pretty fool an afterlife of raw abyss. To kill her now would be a mercy.
She broke her flawless golden skin with a single shard-like tooth. The feeling hit her immediately. Their bodies intertwined; their nerves shared in ecstasy. She could feel the bard¡¯s fear melt away in her embrace. Passion, heat... raw carnal pleasure; they lay down and lavished where survival had wished her to fight.
For so many years, she had abstained. She hadn¡¯t been strong enough to resist the urge back then. Now? She was strong, she was powerful. As the first pulse of blood stained her smoky lips, she knew herself to be great enough to feast without regard. The warmth filled her mouth and every instinct within her demanded her to swallow. The spider¡¯s mind justified the sinful gluttony with excuses of greatness and worth. Just one fresh sip, and she could conquer the world. One deep swallow and she would be strong enough to help her snowangel.
What had been the warmth of the bard touched the back of her throat and the decision had to be final. Power, luxury and pleasure; or she could release her prey and return to her feeble state. She could stay in fear of her own greatness, of her own blessing.
¡°No,¡± she spat. The assassin was gone, there was no reason to keep drinking. A mouthful of euphoria poured down the bard¡¯s cold , blue neck. The urge didn¡¯t fade, the voices didn¡¯t fall silent. She wanted to drink; she wanted to feast. She needed to be greater. There was no reason not to, it would be so easy.
She released her embrace and let her young victim fall to her grave. She was more beautiful as a corpse than she would have been as a Vampris. Her golden skin had faded to a pale blue, her amber eyes clouded as her spirit made for a merciful afterlife. The spider lifted the weightless cadaver and lay her to rest upon her couch. She draped a blanket over it and fixed a stray hair before she lined the fire-dust to catch and burn down the little home. She knew the Forgelander¡¯s needed a pyre to appease their gods, so she would give her a pyre of marble and comfort.
The night air caught her breath. A mist hid the cobbled streets of Ravenfield. The gaslit lampposts emanated a vermillion hue against the sea fog. The city was a marvel, so distinct from the Tenpic shores. Stones paved the long and winding streets. Houses, a single storey high, lined the paths side by side. Every shop had its own building with its own signage. The streets held formal murals, not like the colourful arts of Tenpi, but near real masterpieces. At the side of a bakery, two men stood twenty feet tall within the wall. They presided over some distant battle which an art historian could likely describe in great detail. All the spider could see was the bloodstained blades and the plump men who wielded them.
Raven keep crowned the distant horizon. Green and orange light poured out from within every window, and a thousand tiny marching dots marked its legendary garrison. The Champion of Black would be there soon enough, and she would need every friend she could get. Her huntress wasn¡¯t a politician, and the queen of the castle would eat her alive when she failed to act as a true born lady.
But now she knew a way in. Now a songstress was needed and the spider would become a bard. She strolled along slowly enough. The clack of her heel against cobbled bricks echoed through the ever-lonely night. The lesser moon shone out overhead in her full glory, while her greater sister had already begun to wane.
A man sat outside her home; tall, dark and simple. He hadn¡¯t shed his servant disguise yet. A red vest over black formal wear. Leather shoes trimmed in glass jewels. Darren, her accomplice.
¡°Tebea!¡± He called. His voice shattered the peaceful silence and drained away the romance of night.
¡°You didn¡¯t change, Darren.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± he dumbly smiled, ¡°I forgot.¡± He rose from the doorstep and beamed an eager grin as she approached. ¡°Is it... Did you?¡± He urged.
¡°She¡¯s dead.¡±
¡°Brilliant! What¡¯s next?¡±
¡°Who was the wine, Darren?¡± The spider asked without regard for his own question.
¡°The... at the ball? A nobleman. Matrik, I think his name was,¡± he hesitantly admitted. He tried to link his muddy brown eyes the violent crimson of her own, but she didn¡¯t think to look at him. Her eyes wandered to the dying roses potted before the white oak doorway. She washed a hand through the desaturated petals before she plucked the worst of them.
¡°Why him?¡± She whispered as she admired the corpse of the flower.
Darren considered his words well, ¡°he... struck a young man.¡±
¡°Who?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted. ¡°But it was a vicious act.¡±
¡°How did you do it?¡±
He looked awfully like a child facing admonishment, though he kept his eyes fixed to hers, despite her disinterest. He pouted and his leg never quite settled as his hand struggle to match the stillness of the night air around them. ¡°I followed him back to his home,¡± he said, ¡°he was asleep by the time I snuck in. His wife lay in another bed across the hall, so I simply slit his throat and filled a bottle for you.¡± He paused for her reaction, but none came. She sighed and moved to open her door at last. ¡°Did I do well?¡± He begged.
¡°It was an excellent choice, Darren, but you should have asked me first.¡± She slipped through her doorway and slowly closed it on him.
¡°Of course,¡± he said much too loudly. ¡°Tebea, might I do anything else for you?¡±
¡°Go home, Darren. You¡¯ve done your job; I won¡¯t be needing you again,¡± she dismissed.
¡°What? But... I killed a man for you! I tracked down the bard for you! That¡¯s it?¡±
¡°What would you rather me do, Darren?¡± The spider sighed. She had no delusion about his hungered desire, but had no intention of sating it.
¡°I- I thought,¡± he stammered, ¡°I thought that you would take me in as an apprentice of your craft.¡±
¡°An apprentice?¡± She chuckled. ¡°You want to learn how to sew pretty dresses, Darren?¡±
¡°I thought... It''s just... if you don¡¯t wish to make me vampris, then at least teach me to kill,¡± he pled.
¡°Darren,¡± she sighed, ¡°I am not vampris. I cannot make you something I am not. The same goes for an assassin. I am a tailor, a spider at a stretch, and a monster come the mood. None of these things are you capable of.¡±
¡°But this cannot be it! Before you came, I was naught but a servant. Now I am a killer, a beast. I am so much greater. Do not put me back where I was, I beg you.¡±
¡°Your capacity for violence is not tied to me, ser. You will be as much of a killer come your lonely dawn as you are now. I have nothing to offer you,¡± she insisted. She¡¯d have closed the door on him, had he not pressed his foot against the frame.
¡°It cannot be this,¡± he whined. ¡°I have taken lives for you, aided you as you needed. There must be some reward, surely¡±
¡°What kind of reward, Darren?¡± She sighed. Her eyes finally bothered to match his, though he gave no such courtesy back. His gaze fitted the gaze of most men as they tried to daunt her. ¡°It is a foolish man who lusts for a black widow.¡±
¡°It would be a worthy death,¡± he grinned.
¡°It would be a quick death, no doubt,¡± she spat. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal, give me one single compliment I haven¡¯t heard from someone trying to fuck me, and I¡¯ll fulfil your wish,¡± she groaned. ¡°Otherwise, I¡¯ll just kill you now.¡±
He genuinely contemplated his options, the fool. He lapped her up as though she were a somewhat interesting porcelain doll sat on the shelf as he considered.
¡°I- I love your hair. It¡¯s... luscious. Oh, and your eyes match your dress!¡±
She never once drew pleasure from killing the fools that slobbered over her, but she never once hesitated either. Luckily, he had drawn far enough into her home that the body wouldn¡¯t be spotted by passersbys. ¡°Fucking ¡®luscious¡¯,¡± she scoffed as she dragged his corpse along.
The stench of a slit throat filled her home. It lingered in the air, even after she had disposed of the corpse. It was sickeningly sweet. Disgustingly divine. It was the kind of attraction you hated yourself for having. A yearning for something terrible, something she never wanted to touch but absolutely needed to devour. It drove her half mad as she dove into her simple comforts. She wielded needle and thread as she prepared to take on the role of the songstress.
She had to make something that would draw the Sparrow¡¯s eye, but nobody else. Her first attempt came along well. She patched and stitched for half the night until her red thread ran raw. It was all she had used. Sanguine velvet and crimson stitches. It was a mess, a bloody mess.
She tried again but found the same result. Nothing worked, no patterns or designs. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to focus on anything but that damnable smell.
Every window lay open, every candle was lit, and yet all she could think about was that single scent. She could think of nothing but the boy¡¯s blood on the wind, of the bard¡¯s blood on her tongue, the noble¡¯s blood in the flute.
She stitched with fury. She poured every ounce of effort and focus within her deep into the garb. She moulded leather, fitted it to her frame. She stained satin and stitched cotton with increasingly unsteady hands. Her lips shuddered as though a chill had caught her; her hand shook as though fear gripped her. All of her suffering with one ¨C oh so easy ¨C cure. Resistance seemed so pointless, so fruitless. She pictured that pretty little bard wrapped up in her arms as their nervous systems intertwined. She felt the warmth fill her belly and sate her rabid heart. An orgasm of cruel indulgence.
Sweat dripped from her brow. She felt her makeup run down her face as the sweat pooled on her lips. Her vision faded and her head grew light.
She could step outside, find some drunk fool, and end them with ease. She could be happier than she had been in decades. She could be strong... But that strength came with too great a weakness. If she succumbed to the basest of her instincts; if she let herself become powerful, blood would pour from the streets of every city. The addiction would rule her life, where she had sworn never to be ruled again.
The spider gripped herself. She steeled her will and focused on her promises: she would never succumb, she would never be weak, she would help her friend. The Sparrow needed help; she needed her.
Finally, her vision came unblurred. She looked at the outfit her fever had crafted. Red leather, as thick and padded as armour, with a hole cut out in the belly. It was perfect.
Chapter Thirteen: A Timely Traitor
A man and a corpse are separated only by time. She worried such a time had come for him, but her sister had ensured him a few more days, at the least. The night had been long and they hadn¡¯t settled throughout. The three walked on, Sujin rested atop the direwolf and Evara made for a warm travel pack as her cheek pressed against Ash¡¯s back. Through fresh rain and ancient mud, they trudged. Through the mist of night, and the dew of a new dawn. Under the gaze of the waning moon and her gentle sister; of the crowning sun and the clouds that banished his gifted warmth. The enchanter was deathly silent in his sleep, but Evara had no such grace. The child snored like a banshee as a lick of spittle drooled down her gaping maw. Had it not been for the torrents of rain, she¡¯d have soaked Ash¡¯s back without either¡¯s notice.
The heretic walked on. The mud swallowed her boots as the clouds swallowed the sun. She waded on, the river to her side and her sister on her back. The beast prowled between shadows. He danced between raindrops and strolled across gusts of wind. He left no tracks in the mud or grass as he went, but the scent of wet dog pervades even for an eldritch beastling such as Ronald.
A day''s walk remained, by Sujin¡¯s last count. The port would come to view behind the next dawn.
¡°Ashtik,¡± the enchanter feebly called out. She came to his side quickly as his hand flailed out limply. ¡°Ashtik,¡± he repeated.
¡°I¡¯m here.¡±
He spluttered breathlessly and tried for manners, but all she could hear was, ¡°water.¡±
¡°Here.¡± Ash drew a sealed gourd, stabbed a hole in it, and held it out to his lips. It wasn¡¯t water, but it would help him heal. He tried to drink but couldn¡¯t manage the taste. He spluttered and spat, his sense of taste defeating his dehydration.
¡°Drink, you big baby.¡± She poured a little more out between his painfully curled lips. ¡°It¡¯s tibany oil, good for hangovers and gaping chest holes.¡±
His eyes fell to the sleeping sister as she lay hunched over Ash¡¯s back, ¡°She... saved me?¡±
¡°Hopefully,¡± Ash smiled, ¡°but it''s still too early to say if you¡¯ll be alright. Go back to sleep, you need rest.¡±
¡°I- How am I moving?¡± He whispered.
She thought it mightn¡¯t be the kindest thing to tell him that he lay on the back of the abomination that seemed so determined to liquefy his skeletal system the day prior, but a lie would be easily dismissed.
¡°Ronald¡¯s carrying you,¡± she said as though she didn¡¯t know it would panic him. He made some small attempt to roll from his abominable sick bed with a grand whimper, but no fruit came of his efforts. He was simply too weak to rise.
¡°Calm down,¡± Ash whispered as kindly as she could, ¡°he won¡¯t hurt you.¡±
¡°I saw him,¡± Sujin creaked. ¡°I saw the skin-bag he left.¡±
¡°That won¡¯t happen to you,¡± Ash promised.
¡°I have... better... idea.¡±
¡°Rest, Sujin,¡± Ash ordered.
¡°But... faster... get to port... nightfall.¡± He raised his hand again, but it quickly fell back down. His eyes couldn¡¯t quite find her and his voice seemed to slip deeper and deeper into his sleep.
Ash sighed deeply and asked, ¡°what do you mean?¡±
¡°River,¡± he moaned, ¡°straight from here... raft. Nightfall.¡±
¡°We can raft to the port from here?¡± She urged. He continued on, but none of it was intelligible. The babbling of a sleeptalker.
If he was right, and the river truly did flow straight, it would help them beat the Veytors to the port. She decided to trust him and set her sister down beneath the cover of an old evergreen. Ronald wrapped himself around the sleeping girl to hold back the rains and winds from her.
She had never made use of a raft before, but she knew how to make one. Her father had taught her to survive in any wildlands, from the desert to the seas. She would need to fell some young trees, wrap them together and craft some kind of paddle. It would have to be large enough for three, Ronald could just walk if he wanted to come along.
She borrowed Sujin¡¯s double-headed axe and gathered all she would need. The forest didn¡¯t lack for saplings and young oaks, but the waterlogged mud made for slow work. Her companions didn¡¯t seem to mind. All three of her somewhat unwanted fellows were bundled up together sleeping with blissful grins across their peachy little faces.
She tore apart a length of rope and wrapped it around her assortment of cut logs. It quickly grew heavy as she picked it up and bound it again. She slipped and slid, fell ass over tits, and even ended up face down in the mud once or twice. By the time the third hour of work had passed, she was completely blackened with mud and reddened with blood. Cuts and scrapes littered her hands and knees even despite her armour. Her hair had inverted to a burnt bistre, and between the cold rains and the fresh bruises, her arm and legs were half purple. But the job was done. A seaworthy maiden of oak and hemp lay aground before her.
She stood somewhat proud, her hands on her hips and her chin raised high. Her chest heaved as she panted away the pain, she blew away the rain from her daring little smile and let out a great groan of victory.
¡°Are you okay?¡± Evara whispered from beneath her diabolical fur blanket.
¡°Yup,¡± Ash laughed, ¡°victory is mine, Fishy the boat is complete.¡±
¡°Fishy the boat?¡± Evara sighed. She leant up to get a view of her rain-soaked sister as she beamed over the splinters and rope that lay half-buried in mud. ¡°Fishy is a terrible name for a boat. Makes it sound like it¡¯ll sink.¡±
¡°You gotta be squidding me!¡± Ash grinned.
¡°That¡¯s neither funny nor clever.¡±
¡°I think it¡¯s super tenta-cool!¡± She replied with complete certainty that it would make Evara laugh. She was wrong.
¡°I mean... that¡¯s just a reach.¡±
¡°What can I say, I¡¯ve always been a bit of an octo-mist,¡± she continued. ¡°You know, like optimist.¡±
¡°Yeah, no. I got it. It just isn¡¯t funny.¡±
¡°Someone woke up crabby. Come on, we¡¯re nearly there. We should shell-ebrate!¡±
¡°Wake me up when you¡¯re finished.¡±
¡°Oh fine. I¡¯m done,¡± Ash sighed.
¡°Mhmm, sure you are,¡± Ev doubted.
¡°Nope, no more. I can tell you don¡¯t eel very well!¡±
¡°I¡¯m too tired for this."
¡°Come on! I know the joke was a little fishy... eh, do you sea what I did there?¡±
¡°Goodnight!¡±
¡°Ugh,¡± Ash grumbled. ¡°Fine. How are you feeling?¡±
No answer called back from beneath the comfy mound. Either Evara had managed to pass out already, or she was making a point of her silence.
¡°Come on Ev, time to get on the raft,¡± she finally said. A grumble came out for that and the sister managed to just barely rise. Her legs shook beneath her and she looked to have fallen dizzy. Her left hand held against her forehead while her right steadied herself against Ronald.
¡°We are safe with Ronald, aren¡¯t we?¡± Ev asked.
¡°I should hope so, you¡¯ve just slept with him,¡± Ash answered as she started to pull her raft from the mud.
¡°Don¡¯t say it like that,¡± Ev grunted.
¡°Say what?¡±
¡°¡¯Slept with him.¡¯ It sounds wrong.¡±
¡°But you did.¡±
¡°¡¯Slept with¡¯ has... connotations.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know what that means.¡±
¡°It makes it sound like... Never mind,¡± Ev sighed. ¡°Do you need any help?¡±
¡°No, you take it easy. Check on the enchanter.¡± Ash put her whole body behind a single tug. It was enough to dip the raft in the water but not enough to set sail.
¡°Sujin?¡± Ev whispered to the sleeping man. ¡°Are you dead?¡±
¡°Not as yet.¡±
¡°Good, let me see the wound.¡± She slipped open the buttons of his jerkin and saw the remnants of his mortal wound. It had all but sealed and the dried blood had been wiped away as he slept. A terrible bruise covered his chest and bulbous veins spread out from where the blade had pierced, but he was better than he had any right to be.
¡°Is it healing?¡± Sujin asked through broken lips.
¡°Aye,¡± Ev beamed, ¡°it must be my greatest work yet.¡±
¡°Hopefully you need not top the feat,¡± he said with a choking breath that was meant to be a laugh.
Sujin had the strength to limp, but Evara did not. She had seemed somewhat recovered, but it was a feint. The tiny steps towards the little raft proved too exhaustive for her and, had Ashtik not been there to catch her, she¡¯d have collapsed into the mud. She made some meagre grunt as Ash carried her atop Fishy in protest of the cold autumn rains, but beyond that, she was gripped by sleep yet again.
The enchanter was little help in setting the raft to sail, but he tried nonetheless. It all came to Ash and Ronald to see the party onwards down the river.
¡°I am surprised you thought to make a raft,¡± Sujin noted, ¡°I had the thought myself, but you¡¯ve clearly beaten me to the punch.¡±
Ash shot him a confused glance. ¡°What do you mean?¡± She asked.
¡°The... raft?¡± Sujin repeated, just as confused as she.
¡°It was your idea, Enchanter.¡±
¡°It was?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t remember? You must have been delirious, or talking in your sleep.¡±
With a great heft, fishy set sail on her maiden voyage. Only, she had left her noble shipwright behind. The current caught her quickly while Ash and Ronald simply watched from the shore.
¡°Shit,¡± Ash grunted. ¡°Enchanter, can you steer towards me?¡±
¡°I am doing my best, Ashtik,¡± he called back. He hadn¡¯t the strength in him to fight the tide, but he managed to edge somewhat closer to her. Ash had to sprint along the shoreline to keep pace with the raft, but the mud and bursting banks didn¡¯t make for easy terrain. The distance quickened between herself and little Fishy. She thought she might lose them, that she might be forced to travel on alone until her cute little hellhound nipped at her arm.
She stopped and looked at the Dire wolf as he bowed his head to her. She realised that he wanted her to ride him. Ash didn¡¯t waste time on contemplations. Her boot flew over the prickly ¡®fur¡¯ of his back and she sat delicately upon him.
The beast could outride any mare. He made no tracks in the mud as he went but bucked like a wild bull with every gallop. The huntress could barely keep her grip. Her arms wrapped around his thick prickled neck and held with the grip of a wicked vice.
¡°Ashtik!¡± Sujin called out as she rode. He had managed to angle the raft towards the right bank, but it was still too far to reach. Ronald slowed as they came alongside the raft, but Ash spurred him on.
¡°Keep going,¡± she ordered, and he obeyed gladly. They sprang past the raft and made it a hundred metres ahead before Ash jumped from Ronald¡¯s back, straight into the freezing river. She swam out into the thick of it and managed to clasp a loose rope as the raft passed her by.
¡°There we are,¡± Sujin laughed as he pulled her up. Ash clambered up and felt no dryer in the rain than she was in the river. She stood shivering as she peered out to the tree line. Ronald stood proud, looking out at her with his abyssal little eyes.
¡°Thank you!¡± Ash shouted, ¡°be good!¡±
With that, the beast sang out some hellish howl and sank into the shadows of the treeline.
¡°I- I know it helped us,¡± Sujin shuddered, ¡°but I still think we should burn it with fire.¡±
¡°I doubt we¡¯ll see him again,¡± Ash chuckled.
¡°Indeed, I bet it¡¯ll be too busy eating infants and tormenting damned souls to check in on us.¡±
¡°We did try to warn you. He wasn¡¯t so bad in the end,¡± Ash defended. She drew out Sujin¡¯s pack and took back the large cloak he had brought for her. She wrapped herself, and her little sister, within its warm embrace while the gentleman quietly rowed them onwards.
The stream carried them along ever so gently. The occasional little wave would be ambitious enough to bound over the raft and splash against the trio. The winds would sheer some rain into their faces and a light mist came about with the twilight; but overall, it was as peaceful as the world''s most wanted woman could hope for.
¡°Look there,¡± Sujin whispered. He raised a somewhat limp hand out to the horizon and marked out a beacon of orange light. The port.
¡°That¡¯s our destination?¡± Ash asked.
¡°It is,¡± he smiled. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be more than a couple of hours away.¡±
Ash peeled back the cloak and found her sister balled up beneath, her head resting in Ash¡¯s lap. The young girl shuddered as Ash exposed her to a little slither of the cold world beyond her warming cloak.
¡°Oh my,¡± Sujin gasped.
All around them, the world changed. As the stars rose, so did nature. The flowing water lit a brilliant blue, more vibrant than any of them had ever seen. Every time Sujin¡¯s paddle stroked the water, it would set the surface ablaze with some brilliant explosion of colour.
¡°They¡¯re called night dust,¡± Ash whispered.
¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it,¡± Sujin replied with a similar hush.
Ash peeled the cover back again and stroked her sleeping sister¡¯s face. She whispered in as tender a voice she could manage, ¡°Ev, look.¡±
Her sister grumbled for a moment, but awe quickly wiped her fatigue.
¡°Night dust,¡± she gasped. ¡°I read that it''s not actually dust; but a million, million little creatures. They glow to confuse the fish.¡±
¡°It''s a fish, doesn¡¯t take much to confuse it.¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°Look at that, something you have in common; besides the smell of course,¡± Evara cackled.
¡°What would you do if I just picked you up and threw you in the river?¡±
¡°Probably drown...¡±
¡°Sujin, would you help her?¡±
¡°I...¡±
¡°Don¡¯t forget who healed you!¡± Ev begged.
¡°Don¡¯t forget who holds your vouch,¡± Ash coldly smiled.
¡°Right, yes, erm. I¡¯m sorry, young Evara,¡± he shamefully choked.
¡°Wow! That¡¯s how it is?¡± Evara grumbled.
¡°A wise man. So, young Evara... Did you say something about me and fish?¡±
¡°Only... only that Fishy was an excellent name for a raft.¡±
Ash managed a laugh. Evara snuggled into her sister. She leant her back against Ash, who wrapped her arms ¨C and the cloak ¨C around Evara. The rain had seen enough of the day, and so allowed the open sky to have her time. The three spent at least an hour naming the stars and constellations. It would seem the sisters had been taught different names for each compared to the enchanter. What they knew to be the dancing brothers, Tarik & Hoj, he thought was named the spiked throne. How anybody could mistake two men line dancing as a prickly chair was beyond Ash¡¯s comprehension.
Evara pointed out Opan¡¯s fang, and Sujin countered with the ¡°Duke¡¯s nail.¡± She was half sure he was jesting when Evara offered the simple bident, and he somehow made a horned bull of it.
¡°Hevestiel¡¯s bull?¡± Ev scoffed.
¡°I swear it!¡±
¡°Sounds more like Hevestiel¡¯s bullshit. How can you make a cow of that? It¡¯s literally a straight line with two prongs,¡± Ash laughed.
¡°More importantly, Hevestiel is a forge goden. Why would he need a bull?¡± Evara pressed.
¡°You¡¯ve never heard the tale of Tarut the bull?¡± Sujin said, as though it were some great crime.
¡°Keep it short,¡± Ash mocked.
¡°Well... Hevestiel wanted to marry Taeva, so he bet her that she couldn¡¯t hunt down his prize bull at the stake of her hand,¡± Sujin explained.
¡°Nothing more romantic than a bet,¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°Indeed. Naturally, Hevestiel didn¡¯t play fair. He forged of steel and iron, a great mechanical bull and let it loose into the forests.¡±
¡°What happened?¡± Ev beamed.
¡°Well, Taeva was none too pleased with his deception but was bound to the terms of the bet. She knew that no matter how great a shot she was, or how strong her spear thrust, she would never be able to pierce the steel flesh. So instead, she hid.¡±
¡°Our patron goddess hid? Is this just petty propaganda to say, ¡®ooh look at us, our god is waaay better than their god¡¯?¡± Evara mocked.
¡°Await the tale¡¯s end before you think to criticise the plot!¡± Sujin groaned. ¡°You see, Taeva had a plan. She knew the forest of the gods like the back of her hand, and she knew it was overdue for a rainstorm. So, she waited until the rains poured so heavily that the ground turned to swampy marshes. The bull ¨C being that it was made of steel ¨C simply sank into the mud so deep that it couldn¡¯t breathe. It choked on the dirt, and Taeva was victorious in the bet.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Ash said. ¡°What¡¯s the moral? Tales like that are supposed to have a moral. Is it just, don¡¯t be heavy? Cos¡¯ that¡¯s kinda fucked up.¡±
¡°No!¡± Sujin shouted, absolutely appalled. ¡°It is a strategic lesson! The forgelands are the bull, and obviously the enemy is Taeva. We make excellent armour and are nearly untouchable in open combat, but if we allow ourselves to be drawn into adverse terrain, or into the enemy''s territory; our advantage becomes our coffin. We will choke on our pride, if not the dirt.¡±
¡°Yeah, I prefer Tarik & Hoj,¡± Ash teased. ¡°The moral of that story is ¡®don¡¯t be too embarrassed to have fun¡¯. That¡¯s a proper moral. Not teaching kids war strategy.¡±
¡°You can keep your tales of dancers, but those stars hold a bull I tell you; not a stabby stick,¡± Sujin grinned.
They waded on, and bickered unendingly, as the current took them closer to the great beacon. A swarm of firebugs danced across the surface of the glowing river. Toads and feathered frojka croaked and sang within the reeds, and the owls hooted out their hopeful love songs. Her sister awed and cooed over every little spectacle, but it was clear she could manage no more movement than the bounds of her eyes. Hefting her chest to draw breath seemed a laboured and meticulous action taken with a great deal of effort and care, but she refused to let sleep deprive her of such magic.
The river forked. To the left, nothing. Just a hundred stevs of forest all the way to the sea. To the right, however, was victory. A petty, simple victory, but a victory all the same. A great toll gate parted the river from the port town. Two struts of dark brick arched across the river and a massive wood and wrought iron gate barred entry. A sight around the gates buried butterflies within Ash¡¯s belly. Six guardsmen, all well-armed. If they recognised her, they would not hesitate to kill all three of them. She quickly slid the cloak over her head and buried away her all too recognisable hair.
¡°Ho!¡± A guardsman called from atop the toll house. ¡°We do not permit entry to rafts!¡±
¡°Then we shall walk, ser!¡± Sujin called back.
¡°Very well, moor yourself and find the gateman!¡±
¡°Tis not so simple ser! We have no means to so direct the raft. Believe me, we have tried.¡± Sujin politely laughed.
A pair of guards were kind enough to throw out a length of rope, which they used to drag themselves onto shore.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
¡°Ash,¡± Evara urgently whispered. She locked her eyes to the young girl¡¯s who had locked her own to the mark at her palm. It had become so typical to her that she hadn¡¯t even thought to mask it. The fluttering little sparrow that had made a home of her hand would not be easily explained away. Ash focused on her gauntlet and clenched some invisible muscle hard enough that the steel receded into a little gem at the back of her hand. It was a terrible strain to keep it away, but she would manage. Evara offered her a bandage, which she gladly wrapped around the crystal.
¡°Names,¡± the guardswoman at the gate ordered.
¡°Sujin, ward of Macau. I travel with...¡±
¡°Tebea and Miel, of Duke¡¯s crossing,¡± Ashtik quickly answered.
¡°Purpose for visit,¡± the guard droned on.
¡°Transit, my betrothed and I would like to return to my homeland,¡± Sujin continued.
¡°This is your betrothed?¡± The guard asked, appraising Ash.
¡°Indeed,¡± Sujin confidently lied. The guard looked him up and down, then she looked back at Ash and tutted.
¡°Him?¡±
¡°Options were thin,¡± Ash sighed. The woman cracked a smile, her posture relaxed somewhat and she nodded to Evara.
¡°The kid¡¯s not yours, is it?¡±
¡°Her sister,¡± Sujin answered.
¡°He always talk for you?¡±
¡°No, that¡¯s usually my job,¡± Evara smirked.
The guard marked some page and nodded to a man at the gate. She turned back to the trio and said with absolute disinterest, ¡°enjoy your trip, just be warned; the Veytors are in town. Looking for some rogue magician or something, I wasn¡¯t listening.¡±
The gates parted and unveiled the nighttime city. Ash had expected a couple of boats and an inn or two, but this was something else entirely. The streets weren¡¯t built up, but dug out. Each lane and path was a divot in the stone. Each house was carved into natural marble. The city went lower the further in you walked, until the houses were as far from the surface as the surface must have been to the sky. The river flowed in and wrapped around the layered rings like a moat for each level. Channels made sure that each and every home had access to running water.
There seemed to be three distinct sections. The top layers, with its marble-carved mansions and grassy rooftops where the children seemed to play. The middle layers, where bridges spanned in city-wide networks. Houses were dug directly into the stone walls. She could see hundreds of people walking through alleyways carved into the rockface, where more homes must have been carved. At the bottom layer, she saw the ring of commoners. Unlike the other layers, the homes here weren''t carved into the walls but were thatched together across the base of the crater. People walked across the twig rooftops and slid down tiny holes which seemed to act as vertical doorways. At the centre of it all, with bridges spilling out towards every layer, stood a colossal marble monolith. It stood as tall as a mountain, though so deep was it set that it didn¡¯t even crest the horizon as they approached. A single shard of white stone around which the entire city sprawled.
From the tip of the spire what was almost a fluid, but almost snow, flowed upwards into the sky. She had never seen something so obviously magical.
¡°Welcome to the port,¡± Sujin smirked at the two wide-eyed women as they struggled to keep their jaws hinged. He held an outstretched arm towards the marble spire.
¡°That¡¯s the port?¡± Ash doubted. ¡°I... where¡¯s the boats?¡±
¡°Boat?¡± Ev repeated with half a giggle. ¡°Oh Taeva, no. You thought we were headed to a dock!¡±
¡°Well, yeah... A port?¡±
¡°No, Ash. A port-al. A portal! Not a shipyard,¡± Ev guffawed. ¡°Remember how we got to the conclave?¡±
¡°Well, I assumed that was kinda unique.¡±
¡°Well, it is, just not to the Conclave,¡± Sujin awkwardly injected. ¡°It is a power that the Forgelands use and offers out to the rest of the world. They have something of a monopoly on the ability. It is why we¡¯re so rich.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t...¡± Ash gulped. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can do this.¡±
¡°What?¡± asked Ev. She turned her rosy little face to her sister who had turned as pale as her namesake. ¡°What do you mean?¡±
¡°I- I thought it would be a boat. A portal- I don¡¯t know that I can do this,¡± Ash said with half a tear welling in her eye.
¡°I don''t... understand? What¡¯s wrong?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know... Just, being torn from one place to another. Magic like that, it''s not right. Somethings not right.¡±
Evara had never heard her sister so afraid before. She sounded as though a slight breeze would break her down to tears.
¡°Ash, you¡¯ve been through a portal before. It won¡¯t hurt and I¡¯ll be right next to you the whole time,¡± Ev promised. It didn¡¯t do much to avert Ash¡¯s terrible gaze from the marble monolith.
¡°Can we not sail?¡± Ash begged.
¡°It would take months, sister,¡± Ev said. She took Ash¡¯s hand into her own and did what little she could to comfort her. It was not a role she was overly used to, the comforter. She found herself using many of the same strategies that Ashtik often used on her when fear had gripped her. Evara held her sister¡¯s hand and stroked another against her cheek. ¡°We¡¯ll do this together. You won¡¯t even notice it happened; I swear. There¡¯s nothing to be afraid of.¡±
It would have to be enough. Fear would not rule her so easily, even if it gave her a moment''s pause. She swallowed a tear and locked amethyst to steel. ¡°Okay, let''s go.¡±
They strolled along the beautiful nighttime streets. Sujin told them some silly little tidbits about the city and its origins, but Ash was too filled with dread to listen. Her eyes traced the monolith with every step they took. It did not help that it grew so much larger the closer they came.
¡°Can we get a drink,¡± Ash finally asked. It was the first words she had spoken since they arrived and it seemed to the others like the greatest she had ever said.
Their stop was a rugged little pub in the Ooranic fashion. Heavy red carpet hung from every doorway to keep the draft at bay, drinks were served in bottles instead of tankards, and a smoke den snuggled itself into a dark little corner. The pub was packed, evidently some celebrations had begun for the local community. Ash and Evara made for an empty table while Sujin made for the bar. He returned with three shots of something called ¡°nabuk.¡± It was a thick violet sludge with a consistency not so dissimilar to honey, though it tasted nowhere near as sweet. It clung to her tongue as it made its slow way down. Had it tasted like most spirits, she¡¯d have hated the fact, but this was gorgeous. Some mixture of berries and kisses. She could have drunk them like water, had they not been so strong. One or two of them and she¡¯d have passed out atop a raging bull. She dared not imagine the effect it could have on Evara, who seemed equally infatuated with the drink. A flash of De Javu shot through Ash as she recalled Ev passed out atop the roast pig at the end of Maren¡¯s feast.
A group of bearded men revelled in one corner of the bar, while some older women played a board game with shot glasses instead of game pieces. The beautiful barmaid stole hungered glances at the handsome young knight who feasted with his page in the smoke den. Then a man walked in, massive beyond reason. He made her father look half a dwargon.
Cobalt eyes met her own, then they danced away in search of a drink.
¡°Ladies and gentlemen!¡± A sour voice cried over the merriment. A man came in behind it, clothed in grey robes with a well-pruned beard beneath his hood. ¡°We come in search, cooperate, and we will go easily.¡±
¡°State yourself, ser!¡± The young knight demanded.
¡°I am Aventus, brother sixth. Will you stand in the way of truth, ser knight?¡±
The confidence faded from the boy; his eyes lowered to the Veytor¡¯s feet. ¡°No,¡± he whispered. ¡°Do as you must.¡±
¡°Good folk, we harbour no ill will towards your people. We seek your enemies, heretics! Please, come forth if you have made sight of the so-called Sparrow-Knight,¡± the Veytor demanded. He walked further into the bar as his imperious gaze fell upon every man and woman within.
¡°There¡¯s no heretics here, grey. Get out,¡± the young barmaid ordered.
¡°Will you deny my search, good lady?¡±
¡°Just get out already, there''s clearly nobody here. You¡¯re spoiling the mood,¡± she continued.
The Veytor bowed to her, then drew out a blade and placed it before her.
¡°Those who defend lies waste their tongues. Grant this maid your blessing, oh great Veytor,¡± the grey man prayed. He took up his blade and slowly walked around the bar until he stood an inch from her. He wrapped one hand around her jaw and forced it open as he brought the blade to her mouth.
Ash jolted up. She alone rose to defend the woman while her fellow patrons sat in silent terror.
¡°Ashtik, no,¡± Sujin whispered, holding her back.
¡°He¡¯s going to kill her,¡± Ash spat.
¡°We cannot risk discovery,¡± he quietly insisted.
¡°He can¡¯t report us if he¡¯s dead.¡±
She broke free of his grip and made for the bar as quickly as she could.
¡°Let her go!¡± Ash demanded as she drew close enough to strike.
¡°You would oppose my lord of truth?¡±
¡°I¡¯d slit your fucking throat before you can hurt her,¡± Ash spat.
¡°Such courage,¡± the Veytor sighed, ¡°but wasted... on a heretic. Greetings, Ashtik. We have been-¡±
His words caught in his throat, as did a little blue knife. He garbled and choked on his own blood, but he didn¡¯t panic. His mind was clear and his actions, swift. His hand raced to beneath his cloak where he drew a thin metal rod.
¡°Stop him!¡± Sujin shrieked. It was too late, the Veytor snapped the rod and a terrible screech rang out. It echoed off the sky and through the many halls of the stone city. ¡°We need to run!¡± Sujin insisted.
¡°Sparrow, come with me,¡± a new voice offered. It was the overlarge gentleman with his cobalt glare. He pulled free his little knife from the Veytor¡¯s throat and motioned for her to join him.
¡°Who are you?¡± Ash demanded.
¡°A friend, I hope.¡±
They were too late to run. A small horde of grey men had gathered around the bar¡¯s exit. Ten, maybe twelve of them.
¡°Wait here,¡± the blue-eyed giant whispered. He picked up a massive blade from the bar top and pulled it free of its sheath. It was as large as she, yet he wielded it as though it were as light as a twig. ¡°When the chance comes, run.¡±
He stepped out alone as the dozen Veytors held their blades towards him.
¡°Stand aside, ser knight!¡± The eldest of the Veytors demanded.
The blue giant smiled through his greying stubble as he slid his helm over his head. ¡°Should any of you survive to return to Yrdgent, tell Vias that I live. Tell her the Champion is under my watch. Tell her... to run.¡±
The first Veytor struck in a panicked frenzy. The knight made no attempt to block, and the blade simply bounced off his chest. He slowly unhooked the pearly white chain to reveal the thick steel plate beneath his cloak. As the cloth fell to the ground, he slid his foot beneath it and coiled to strike. He raised his left arm like a hawk¡¯s wing and rested the long blade atop of it, pointing at the eldest Veytor.
¡°Grant him the lord¡¯s blessing,¡± the eldest whispered. Six Veytors charged as one. They swung their blades in a perfect flurry, but not one strike landed. The knight thrust his blade into the ground and caught the strikes of two, while he punched another and dodged two more. He rounded the blade and slashed clean through one young man. He gripped the base of his own blade and thrust the pommel into the nose of another charger before he tore the blade back and took his head clean off.
He threw out another small knife, which landed in the thigh of one Veytor, while he gripped another man by the throat and lifted him a metre from the ground. The Veytor struggled wildly. His blade thrashed out against the knight¡¯s steel skin, but it was utterly futile. His neck snapped and crunched within the knight¡¯s gauntlet.
He bound and swirled with a delicacy and grace unbecoming of his size. He fought with measured precision, and with utter brutality. He would duck one blade, and punch another mid-swing. He tossed and threw the holy warriors around like they were nought more than sacks of grain.
The elder Veytors proved somewhat more of a challenge, and didn¡¯t die in a single lazy slash like their juniors. They used tricks and magics to garner something of an advantage. The eldest raised his hand out, from which a small nozzle burst with liquid flame. The knight covered his face with his arm as he approached through the dragon¡¯s breath. No matter how painful the ordeal looked, he didn¡¯t slow. He reached out a single hand and gripped the Veytor¡¯s own, twisting and breaking it, before he cut it clean off.
Two men remained, and two men broke themselves against him. To call it a slaughter would make it sound so violent, but in truth; it was near painless. Each Veytor died in an instant, and what few didn¡¯t, were allowed to live.
The old knight stood alone under the breeze and stars. His heaving breath showed even through his steel skin, but he was utterly uninjured. The man returned quietly into the bar and raised his hand for the maid to pour him another drink.
¡°Who are you?¡± Ash whispered in awe.
¡°A friend. I have been searching for you, Sparrow,¡± the man sighed. He removed his helm and a mound of black hair flowed out. His temples held long grey streaks, apart from an old scar where no hair grew at all. He turned to Ash with a warm smile, obscured by a scraggly greying stubble.
¡°My name is Amell. It is an honour to meet you at last.¡±
¡°Ashtik,¡± the enchanter quietly gasped. ¡°We need to leave. Get away from him.¡±
¡°What are you talking about? He just saved us,¡± Ash protested.
¡°He fought for the blood queen Vias. He is the traitor of blood,¡± Sujin whispered.
¡°You are Amell Fielder?¡± Evara gasped. ¡°Ash, he burnt a city to the ground while his own men slept within.¡±
¡°Is that true?¡± Ash asked.
¡°It is,¡± he coldly admitted.
¡°You burn your own men, and yet you seek friendship?¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°Tis¡¯ more complicated than that, but this is not the venue for explanations. Please, I ask that you trust me for but an hour.¡±
¡°Why would we trust your kind?¡± Sujin scoffed.
¡°Because he¡¯s just saved us,¡± said Ash. She motioned towards the mound of dead monks that lay a few feet from them. ¡°Amell, what would you have of us?¡±
¡°I have a shelter here, come with me and I¡¯ll help you get to wherever you need to go.¡±
¡°And you¡¯ll explain yourself?¡± Evara injected.
¡°If that is your wish,¡± he bowed.
He finished his drink and led them out of the bar, but Ashtik was held behind by the barmaid for a moment.
¡°You are the Champion of Black?¡± She asked.
¡°I guess.¡±
¡°Then,¡± she gulped, ¡°thank you, Champion.¡± The maid lay a gentle kiss on Ashtik¡¯s cheek before parting with a pleased smirk. Ash had no such grace, as her usually dark skin burst out in shades of embarrassment and pride. ¡°Thank you for saving my life,¡± the maid winked.
¡°But he fought the Veytors,¡± Evara corrected from the doorway. The maid¡¯s smile didn¡¯t break, nor did her gaze upon Ash. Her only acknowledgment for Evara was a coy shrug.
The party, now twice its size despite being only one man larger, walked along. Given the terrible risk of walking through a city filled with Veytors after having just killed a dozen of their fellow, Ashtik ought to have been more alert. It would seem that the blood usually allocated to her brain had rather filled out her blush. They had walked for a good ten minutes, and she was still as red as the midday sun.
¡°Have you a fever, sister?¡± Little Evara asked. She hopped up on the balls of her feet to place a hand against Ash¡¯s head.
¡°I am fine,¡± Ash curtly insisted.
¡°You are bright red, Ash,¡± Ev insisted.
¡°Me thinks, little mae hero has a crush,¡± Sujin smirked as they walked along.
¡°Ashtik... A crush...¡± Evara doubted as a grin of realisation overcame her. ¡°No,¡± she gasped.
¡°Nothing like that,¡± Ash sharply insisted. ¡°It was just embarrassing, being called a Champion and being thanked so overtly. I¡¯m not used to it.¡±
¡°Sure,¡± Ev teased.
¡°Let''s not have our new compatriot think we are gossiping children, please,¡± Ash pled, her blush never wavering.
They arrived at a dark alleyway at the bottom of the pit. Amell had to squeeze through sideways, but the sisters managed to walk side by side. At the end of the alley, a shack was sealed by a heavy iron board instead of a door. The massive man struggled to move it, but such seemed by design. If one of his inordinate strength could barely budge it, no wandering thief would have a hope of entry.
Within was a home of two days. The older day, and the new. The walls were peeling and mouldy. The wooden struts had cracked and crumbled. But then at the centre was an ornate campsite. A luxury wool bedroll. A small framed painting next to a heat charm. A bespoke carved stool beside a cooking spit. Evara quickly dove atop a mound of cotton and silk, making a nest of it and falling back to sleep while Ash and Sujin both stood on their guard.
Amell took a seat beside the big stone at the centre of his camp which bore the sigil of ignis. He held his steel-cased hands over it.
¡°One would think you¡¯d had enough flames for the day,¡± Sujin snarled.
¡°There can never be too much warmth in one''s life,¡± Amell gently retorted.
¡°I know a couple of bandits who might disagree,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°Now will you explain yourself?¡±
¡°What do you wish explained?¡± He smiled. When it was said that Amell Fielder smiles, it was not meant as a toothy grin, nor a cheek-cracking twinkle, for his lips did not move. The smile, as vibrant and full as it was, existed entirely within the blue of his wrinkled old eyes. It existed in his sun-kissed brow and in the way he looked at you with all the warmth of the sapphire sun.
¡°You killed your own men,¡± Ash accused.
¡°I did. I cannot tell you why, but know that I was betrayed and I acted from pain, not spite,¡± he whispered in the gravelled old voice of a wartime leader.
¡°You do not look like a Bloodlander,¡± Ash said.
¡°I am not. I was born to Kovayeshi parents. My father was a farmer, and my mother a miller.¡±
¡°So how did it come about that you fought for this, Queen Vias?¡±
¡°I was a young, and very strong, man. A company of mercenaries came through our village and one spotted me as I was going about my duties. They offered me a job and I took it. The next thing I knew, I was winning wars on the opposite end of the continent. One day, my company was hired by a powerful benefactor, on the condition that our champion was to defeat their own. Naturally, I was selected.¡±
¡°And you won?¡±
¡°Gods no,¡± he laughed, ¡°the benefactor failed to mention that I would be facing the blood queen herself. It was the first defeat I had ever faced, but she decided that I was worth keeping around. She took me into her personal guard, and made me into a nobleman. The first of house Fielder.¡±
The old knight pulled a strap on his breastplate, but it remained stuck. ¡°Forgelander, would you be so kind?¡± He asked. Sujin hesitantly crossed the camp and undid the buckle, allowing the armour to fall to the ground. It landed with a terribly deep thud. It didn¡¯t rock, nor did it shiver from the impact. It just landed hard enough to crack the slate floor beneath it.
¡°Thank you,¡± Amell bowed. He gladly stretched out, having shed such a massive weight.
¡°Why did you seek me?¡± Ash finally asked. The old man chuckled and pointed towards the stool across from him. She sat lightly upon it, but remained somewhat coiled to pounce.
¡°In truth, I dreamt of you,¡± he admitted, somewhat embarrassed.
¡°You¡¯re too old for a cheesy line like that,¡± Ev grumbled from beneath her fortress of comfort.
¡°I assure you; I have no untoward intentions and I do not lie. I dreamt of a great black snowcapped mountain; it spoke with a woman¡¯s voice, your voice."
¡°And what did I say?¡±
¡°You said, ¡®help me, Amell... Please,¡¯¡± he recalled. ¡°In truth, I had hoped that maybe your patron would have foretold of me too.¡±
¡°He did,¡± Ash whispered.
¡°He did?¡± Amell repeated in elation. ¡°So, I am not mad?¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡±
¡°But what did your Goden say of me?¡± He begged.
¡°That you had taken your last breath, and kept living. That you dream your way through life, and that our fates would intertwine.¡±
He paused to consider something. His eyes lingered on the little framed painting that stood beside his bed. Within, a red-haired woman held a blue-eyed babe as she stood in the arms of a much younger, and much happier, Amell. A deep sigh carried his resignation and doubts out of his body and into the open air. He rose to his feet and towered over Ashtik before he fell to one knee with his head bowed as deeply as it could go and said, ¡°I don¡¯t know what my fate is. I don¡¯t know if you truly are the Champion of Black, or if this is all some grand madness. But I know that you need help. I know I can be that help. That you can be my purpose. Champion, Ashtik, I pledge my life to you and your quest, if you would have me.¡±
¡°You needn¡¯t pledge your life, Amell. Just... come along,¡± Ash awkwardly said as the giant bowed still before her. ¡°But if it is your wish, then okay. I accept your pledge, but I won¡¯t hold you to it.¡±
¡°Thank you, Ashtik,¡± he smiled. ¡°Whatever you need of me, I will be there. Oh, and one more thing!¡±
¡°Yes?¡±
¡°A message, from a friend,¡± he beamed as he rose to his full height.
¡°I don¡¯t have any friends,¡± Ash laughed.
¡°This one seemed sure. She said that she¡¯s proud of you. She told you to kick some ass and that she would see you soon.¡±
¡°Who?¡±
¡°She never gave a name, just ¡®the spider in the attic¡¯,¡± recalled Amell.
¡°The spider? Raven hair and black lips?¡±
¡°Aye, that was her.¡±
¡°Tebea...¡±
Chapter Fourteen: Forgelands.
A blood-soaked giant with cobalt eyes. A nameless sister and a paid for friend. All here before a spire of ice and marble so grand that it threatened the grace of the gods. All here for her.
The giant had spared three cloaks ¨C torn from one of his own ¨C to better disguise the party. Her own was more use as a head scarf than a full disguise. The ashen white of her hair had been gathered into a top bun and hidden beneath.
The city bustled, despite the hour of the owl having long since passed. The giant walked a fair distance behind the party, he was too conspicuous to blend in alongside them. His hulking armoured frame left a radius where none of the crowd dared enter. Ash clung to Evara¡¯s little hand and dragged her along, never letting her fall more than a metre behind. Her sister didn¡¯t make it easy; she fawned and cooed over every little thing. She laughed as some children played with hoops and sticks, she gasped as some mummer performed acts of false magic, she lapped over every little thing with that either shimmered or sparkled.
It reminded Ash that despite everything, despite the danger and the fate they faced, Evara was still just a child. She barely seemed to grasp that a small army of men actively sought their deaths; or if she did, it took less precedence in her mind than simple toys and trinkets.
She should have been allowed to play. She should have found some other teenagers and stole drinks from the tavern, or laughed about crushes... or whatever girls that hadn¡¯t spent every waking moment in the forests typically got up to.
They came upon the bridge marked as ¡°Tosh¡¯s.¡± It crossed from the market district, over to the spire¡¯s three hundredth floor.
¡°Let me do the talking,¡± Amell whispered as they came upon the tollgate at the bridge¡¯s base. A small que awaited permission from the disgruntled young man who sat within the booth. They stood in near silence for at least an hour before the young Tollman called out.
¡°Next!¡±
¡°Colin Parish,¡± Amell introduced.
¡°Participating in the tournament?¡± The Tollman intuited after looking over Amell¡¯s arms and armour.
¡°If they¡¯ll have me.¡±
¡°Very well, is it your first time travelling to the Forgelands?¡±
¡°Not exactly.¡±
¡°Okay, party size?¡±
¡°Three adults, one child.¡±
¡°Duration of stay?¡±
¡°In all likes, a single day; mayhaps two.¡±
¡°Very well, ser. A cultural ambassador is available upon arrival, free of charge. Please take no act to embarrass our kingdoms, and keep in mind that the Forgelands have a different culture. If any crime is enacted upon you, please report it to the embassy immediately after reporting to the local law enforcement. That will be three disks and twelve plates.¡±
¡°Lovley, thank you,¡± Amell smiled through his helm. He dug within his belt and drew out the coins before turning back to the others. They didn¡¯t speak until they were far enough along the bridge to remain unheard.
¡°I could have paid our way,¡± insisted Ash.
¡°It doesn''t really matter. Save your metal for the tavern,¡± Amell laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll let you buy the first.¡±
¡°Ser Fielder?¡± Evara politely called from beneath the giant¡¯s gaze.
¡°Call me Amell.¡±
¡°Of course. What did the Tollman mean by tournament?¡±
¡°I have no idea,¡± he admitted. ¡°It seemed like an easy way in, though.¡±
¡°It¡¯s the international tourney,¡± Sujin interrupted.
¡°I thought that took place in the summer?¡± Said the giant as he slipped past a group of half-drunk travellers. They all wore uniforms of sorts, maybe a way to display nationality or support for some tourney champion?
¡°It usually does,¡± Sujin agreed, ¡°but this is likely a smaller version; meant for lesser knights to prove themselves.¡±
¡°They don¡¯t seem to mind a lesser affair,¡± Evara pointed out.
They walked onwards with the crowd of merrymakers until one of them thought to stop Amell in his tracks.
¡°Oy, big fella!¡± The drunkard hiccupped. ¡°You fighting in the- the tourney?¡±
¡°I may do,¡± Amell politely said.
¡°Wouldn¡¯t wanna get in- in your way. Feel bad for whichever grey has to inspect you.¡±
¡°What do you mean?¡±
¡°The... yeno¡¯! The- the Victors, those inquisition larks.¡±
¡°The Veytors?¡±
¡°Yeah! That¡¯s the one. They hav- they''re inspecting all of the travellers. Tryin¡¯a stop some... heretic sod.¡±
¡°I see, thank you,¡± Amell smiled.
¡°Yeah, just win your fights. I¡¯ll be betting my house on you.¡±
It became immediately noticeable that the group slowed in their walk. A light panic had Sujin and Evara while Ash and Amell¡¯s eyes skirted every window and door of the great monolith. They figured through some possibilities of plans. Some smoky wisps of an idea. Neither sprouted flame.
¡°They¡¯re blocking the ports,¡± Sujin stressed. ¡°How do we get past? They¡¯ll recognise us in an instant. Maybe we should have sailed!¡±
¡°Calm down,¡± Ash ordered. ¡°Is it really that surprising that they would block the port?¡±
¡°To a degree, aye,¡± Amell breathily pondered. ¡°This is neutral land, but Veytors aren¡¯t a neutral faction. To enter the tower is an act of aggression. The Forgelanders will not take kindly to this.¡±
¡°Then that¡¯s our advantage,¡± Ash said with a hesitant smile.
¡°How so?¡±
¡°Once we get to the other side, the Forgelanders will help us. They¡¯ll hold back the Veytors.¡±
¡°But we¡¯d have to get to the other side first,¡± Ev pointed out.
¡°Some of us would. Evara, you and Sujin should be able to cross without issue.¡±
¡°And leave you behind?¡± Ev protested.
¡°No, warn the Forgelanders that a group of Veytors will chase us through. Me and Amell will punch through them and hope for the best.¡±
¡°How do you intend to ¡®punch through¡¯ them?¡± Amell questioned.
Ash considered for a moment, before settling her eyes on the enchanter. ¡°Sujin, can you make a smoke charm? Like the ones in the woods.¡±
¡°Easily enough,¡± he hesitantly said.
¡°That¡¯s it then, you two walk through and drop a smoke bomb in front of the portal, then we will charge while they¡¯re blind and distracted. Right?¡± Ash plotted.
¡°It could work, it probably won¡¯t. I love it,¡± Amell grinned.
There were no doors, no bars, no gates. Only men, a hundred men. Each had a blade and each blade was drawn. Each had deathly glare, and each glare slaughtered an imagined threat. They would find her quickly. They would not hesitate to kill her.
Ash ran her thumb over the little slither of silver. The rune that lay atop it had depth, texture. A bumpy cloud with a number beneath it, but it wasn¡¯t any number she knew. It must have been a symbol unique to the Forgelands.
Evara walked up to the guardian cultist. She hopped to the tips of her toes as she handed over her entry ticket. The Veytor looked her over greedily. He tore the cloak from her head and, upon discovering the fall of white hair, took her hand and scoured it with a renewed interest. Ash nearly charged him, but Amell kept her back. It was only after the Veytor found no mark of Championship, nor the Black steel gauntlet, that he permitted her to leave.
She wobbled along, and crossed through into the great portgate without issue.
It was beautiful. Two rounded pillars of ice met at the apex. Within, a waterlike surface rippled with every entry. It reflected like silver mirror, and gave no hint as to what lay beyond. The portal at the Conclave had been very different, just a tunnel to another place. This was a barrier of liquid silver suspended in the air. Ev pressed her hand into it first, but there was clearly no resistance from the thing. She took a final breath of her native air and disappeared into the next place.
Sujin granted the passage no such gravitas. He kept his head down and quickly strolled through. She didn¡¯t even see him drop his silver slice as he passed the threshold.
¡°Are you ready?¡± Amell whispered as they grew closer to the guards.
¡°No,¡± she whispered back. ¡°But I¡¯ve no choice, have I?¡±
¡°There¡¯s always a choice, it''s just not always a good one.¡±
One of the Veytors pointed out at Ash as the que came to an end. ¡°You!¡± He demanded.
She clung a little tighter to her silver shard as she approached on unsteady feet.
¡°Remove the hood,¡± the Veytor ordered.
¡°I don¡¯t want to,¡± Ash replied.
¡°What?¡±
¡°If I do that, we¡¯ll have to fight.¡±
¡°Remove the hood,¡± the Veytor grimly ordered. He raised his steel and bared his teeth.
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ash whispered.
Ser Stabby exploded forth with a thunderous bang! He caught in the Veytor¡¯s throat before Ash retracted the tip and threw out her silver. There was no time to consider anything. Smoke filled the room, and monks swarmed around. She took up her spear and charged towards their line before they could realise what was happening. Amell got ahead of her and flipped a Veytor over his shoulder before gripping Ash¡¯s spear and tearing her forth like an arrow. She landed within the chest of a Veytor, but didn¡¯t have time to pull her spear free before another swung for her head. She ducked behind the silver spear shaft and drew her dirk, planting it firmly into the Veytor¡¯s thigh.
¡°Go!¡± Amell ordered as he held a small army back. She took her chance and made for the gate. Two or three men tried to impede her, but she didn¡¯t have time to entertain them. Using her spear to thrust herself in the air, she sailed over each of the swings and stabs sent her way. She landed with a roll and but saw a dozen more men before her. Men wearing armour, steeled and mighty. They all held out halberd to her throat and she knew she wouldn¡¯t get past them easily.
¡°Ash!¡± A little voice cried. ¡°Stop!¡±
Her eyes jolted from the armoured guards to... Evara?
She looked behind herself and saw the shimmering silver with its icy frame. She had passed through and not even noticed. These men weren¡¯t Veytors, they were Forgelander.
Ash immediately raised her hands and dropped her spear, but jolted away again as the armoured giant fell backwards through the shimmering portal, straight atop of her.
¡°They¡¯re coming!¡± He shouted, baring his blade to the portal. He used his free hand to drag Ashtik away while keeping his steel pointed towards the port.
The Forgelanders didn¡¯t know whether to stop him or help him, but their decision was made easy as ten or more grey men stormed through the port.
¡°Halt!¡± The Forgelander demanded. His men moved their longarms from Amell, out into a wall of blades. ¡°Step no further, Cultist! This is a violation of a thousand different treaties!¡±
¡°Hand over the Black Heretic,¡± the eldest of the Veytors quietly seethed. His brethren reared to charge as he paced up and down the line of spear tips.
¡°They will be held for investigation and the duke will determine if extradition is needed,¡± the Forgelander stated.
¡°We will not allow the heretic to go free.¡±
¡°You will return to your mountain and send an official extradition request. Any more hostilities will create an international incident and sanctions will be taken against your Conclave.¡± ¡°You stand in the way of truth.¡±
¡°I stand in the way of chaos. I stand in the way of fanatics. I will abide by the law, and so will you. Leave, grey.¡±
The Veytor elder marched back and forth along the spear wall with transparent hatred. His eyes burnt into Ashtik. His gaze tore out her heart, but he knew he had to back down. He turned his back to the Forgelanders and whispered some order to the youngest of the Veytors. The boy looked up to him with almost pleading eyes, but ultimately turned back and exited the portal alone. The rest of the greys fell to their knees while the elder looked over them.
¡°Our goden will accept no defeat. He will not abide his own beloved men retreating from a heretic,¡± the eldest said as his gaze fell back to Ash. ¡°May the lord grant his blessing upon you as he will, us.¡±
Each Veytor took up their own blades, and with a single musical breath each, plunged them deep within their own hearts.
¡°I will suffer you not, Sparrow. My brothers will avenge me, and my lord will forgive my failure. You will never be forgiven. You will never understand divinity. You will die, screaming and begging.¡± The elder did not draw his own blade, but walked slowly towards the line of soldiers.
¡°Halt!¡± The Forgelander captain demanded.
¡°I shall fear no blade, for a false blade cannot cut true flesh. I shall fear no man, for in every man is a liar, and in every lie is abyss. Lord! bless these men, that my blood might fill their abyss and bring them the truth.¡± He walked slowly into the blade. He did not slow as it pierced his flesh, nor did his splutter as the blood flooded his lungs. He did not react at all, until the blood loss took him, and his goden embraced him.
They were not gentle as they dragged her along. It took three guards to restrain her, despite the fact that she hadn¡¯t resisted in the slightest. A bag covered her head and chains rattled with her every step. She had been dragged by the arms when her weighted feet failed to keep pace.
They slammed her into a metal chair and bound her wrists to the table before lifting the hood and exposing her to the overbright gas lamps that flooded the little room in a violent red hue.
She sat there alone for at least an hour. She studied over every detail of the room. The padded cotton walls, the grey scrapes where her heavy iron chair had been moved. The carved initials that covered every free inch of the strange red wood table. Four indistinct walls, one with a cracked old mirror set into it. She wondered why a prison cell would need a mirror, though she was half glad of it. She could see how wild her hair had grown after wearing the cloak, and after being black bagged.
She licked down a couple of excessively wild hairs, and wondered to herself how Evara managed a hop as long as hers.
The white windowless door slid open with a near silent squeak. A man walked in on his own and didn¡¯t so much as look at Ashtik as he sat across from her. He marked through some papers, but didn¡¯t say a word to her. She didn¡¯t really mind, any opportunity for silence was welcome, even one as strange as this. She sat and looked into the mirror while he fiddled around for a while longer. A part of her wondered if she came off as terribly vain, but a larger part wondered why this man hadn¡¯t said anything. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
¡°Whe-¡±
The man dropped his page as soon as her first syllable had parted from her tongue.
¡°You speak common?¡± Was all he said.
¡°I- I think so?¡±
¡°Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth?¡± He asked in an annoyed tone.
¡°I do.¡±
¡°So, you speak common,¡± he repeated.
¡°If that¡¯s what that means.¡±
He seemed more and more angered with every breath. He asked, ¡°Your name?¡±
¡°Ashtik.¡±
¡°Your house?¡±
¡°It¡¯s... pretty small. A wooden door, and set into the dirt. It¡¯s burnt down now, though.¡±
¡°No, your familial house.¡±
¡°Oh, I don¡¯t have one of those. I¡¯m a huntress, so Sai-Weleg is my last name.¡±
¡°A huntress wearing master quality battle armour?¡±
¡°I... thought I¡¯d dress up?¡±
¡°Cut the cute shit. Why are you here? Why are the Veytors after you?¡± He demanded.
¡°Now, now,¡± a second man tutted from the doorway. ¡°No need for all that.¡±
He entered the cell carrying two tankards of water and a beaming smile. ¡°Why don¡¯t you take a walk?¡±
¡°I can handle this,¡± the first man protested.
¡°I¡¯m sure, but I¡¯ll take over anyway,¡± the second said with a beaming smile.
The first man grunted and slammed a fist into the table before rising to his feet. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he seethed.
The door slammed shut, and Ashtik sat quietly with the new man.
¡°Are you thirsty?¡± He offered, placing a tankard before her. His warm eyes stole her confidence and her tongue along with it. She refused with a simple shake of her head.
¡°So, Ashtik right?¡± The man asked. She nodded in reply. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m captain Anh. I have a few questions, and it would be a great help for both of us if you would answer them.¡±
Ash nodded again, loosing an attempt at a smile.
¡°Okay, so as my partner so rudely asked, what brings you to our fine kingdom?¡±
¡°I need to meet the... the king,¡± she quietly replied, fully aware of the absurdity of a prisoner demanding an audience with a king.
¡°The king? Why in the world would you need to meet the king?¡±
¡°I¡¯m...¡± Ash hesitated in her answer. Her eyes fell to the crystal she had, for so long, been holding shut. He noticed her gaze, and followed it.
¡°You¡¯re what? I can¡¯t help you unless I know what¡¯s going on, Ashtik.¡±
She didn¡¯t know if she was supposed to tell him. The Conclave was convinced that people knowing the truth would incite panic. That to admit the truth would destroy the world before the apocalypse could even begin. But she also knew that she had no choice. If there was any hope of meeting this Donaleaf, it was through her gauntlet.
She sighed a breath of relief as she unclenched the invisible muscle at her hand. The gauntlet sprung out and broke away the bandages that covered her mark. The captain flinched, as one would if plate metal armour sprouted from the flesh of some young girl before you.
¡°My name is Ashtik Sai-Weleg,¡± she whispered. ¡°But people have come to call me the Sparrow-Knight. Others, those less kind, call me the Black Heretic. The Conclave and the gods have another name for me. To them, I am the Champion of Black. She of dreams and sorrow; harbinger of the apocalypse.¡±
¡°I... I see.¡± He couldn¡¯t say any more than that. His eyes were transfixed on the fluttering little sparrow that danced beneath her skin. On the oily black gauntlet, and its seamless form. He seemed to fear her, dread her. What had been a kind smile, became abject terror. His eyes refused to meet hers, his hand refused to stay still.
¡°I need to meet your king,¡± Ash whispered with a dose of shame.
¡°And... the Veytors, they chase you? Why if you are Champion?¡± He asked in a tone that suggested he wanted to catch her in a lie that he knew she hadn¡¯t made.
¡°The Conclave has declared me Heretic, that panic might not spread. If they acknowledge me, they would be admitting the world is soon to end,¡± she coldly answered.
¡°I-¡± he hesitated, ¡°I have a son... Not a year old. If the world is ending...¡±
¡°Get me to Donaleaf, I have to do whatever I can. With his help, maybe we can stop this.¡±
¡°I- Yes, yes of course. The- the duke! I¡¯ll arrange for you to meet the duke. Once he realises who you are, he¡¯ll take you.¡±
¡°Thank you, Anh. What about my friends?¡±
¡°Yes... I¡¯ll have them released now.¡± He rose from his seat and nearly walked out of the room before he remembered to free Ash from her own chains.
She stood up and walked behind him. He wore full plate armour and a long flowing white cloak over his right shoulder. A mace hung from his hip and a small metal shield, no larger than his head, hung the thigh below. The other guards all wore blue cloaks where he wore his white, except for one or two who wore red.
¡°Ash!¡± a little voice shouted from across the hallway. She charged headfirst past a pair of guards, straight into Ash¡¯s arms. ¡°Are you okay?¡±
¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°You?¡±
¡°Peachy.¡±
They continued on into the room Ev had appeared from. Five or six desks were scattered along the room, each with a brow-beaten book keeper that seemed to desperately avoid looking towards Ash or her party. Sujin and Amell sat next to each other in what must have been an awkward silence. The larger man had kept his helm on, though she could see him sweating beneath. Only then did she remember that he was technically an enemy so far as the Forgelander¡¯s were concerned. Here he was sat, at the centre of a massive guard post beside a Forgelander native who had made no secret of his distrust.
¡°Sujin, C-Colin?¡± Ash greeted. The two men nodded back, and Amell made no protest over the use of his pseudonym.
¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Ev whispered.
¡°We¡¯re going to meet the duke,¡± she answered with a liar¡¯s smile.
¡°If that¡¯s the case,¡± Sujin offered, ¡°allow me to fetch my sponsor. She will be of great political utility while speaking with the duke.¡±
¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, journeyman.¡± A man entered the room at Ash¡¯s back. Each staffer he crossed stopped in their tracks to greet him with a strange salute. One young mae even dropped a stack of papers in her respects. Sujin rose at the sight of him, and gave him the same salute as the rest.
He wore a cloak, like that of the guards, only his was a rich purple and not set over yellow plate armour, but fine blue dress robes. A ribbon of yellow and blue hung from his chest and a thin sabre with an inwardly curved hilt dangled from his hip. A fine white coronet with five extrusions made to resemble a castle wall sat upon his hairless head. The centre extrusion bore no insignia, but the other four each held a unique mark. The left two held a hammer and an anvil, respectively. The right two held what could have been a portal and what must have been a woman.
He stood no taller than Sujin, but still tall enough to look down on Ash through his finely pruned moustache.
¡°You are this... Sparrow-Knight, or Champion, or heretic?¡± He glared.
¡°I- I am.¡±
¡°I wonder if you¡¯ll accrue some new moniker in the time it takes to confirm your old.¡± He glanced at her hand, then at her timid eyes and loosed half a sigh, half a chuckle. ¡°Come along. I will see for myself.¡±
¡°Would it not be proper to introduce yourself first, ser?¡± Evara protested.
¡°Ser?¡± The man repeated, almost indignant. ¡°Of course, you are of the Veil. You cannot be expected to know our ways, my apologies.¡± The bald man took a deep and courteous bow before continuing, ¡°I have the pleasure of being duke Garret Ngyuen the second. Warden of the north, and master of the gate.¡±
¡°It is a pleasure, my lord. You speak with Ashtik Sai-Weleg, she who is called Sparrow-Knight. The Champion of Black and lady of dreams,¡± Evara introduced in as sophisticated a voice as she could muster. It sounded off to Ash¡¯s ears. She spoke deeply and slowly, with great care in each noise. It was so different to the excitable and ever youthful tone she held as native.
¡°And you would be her announcer? Her bard?¡± The duke smiled. He was transparently entertained by Evara¡¯s theatrics, but utterly confused none the less.
¡°I would be her sister, my lord. The Champion is a lady of action, not words. Hence my presence.¡±
¡°That may be,¡± he grinned, ¡°But the Champion must accompany me alone. I ask that you wait here with your fellows.¡±
¡°My lor-¡±
¡°It¡¯s okay, Ev. Stay here,¡± Ash ordered. ¡°Colin... Take care of her.¡±
¡°Of course.¡±
Eight-thousand nine-hundred and sixty-three steps. That is the distance from base to tip of the marble monolith. No god, nor quest, could compel her to climb any of them. Fortunately, the duke held the same determination. They came upon a steel basket in an iron corridor, only the corridor wasn¡¯t long; but high. It must have stretched from the dirt to the stars, though the top was either too dark or too distant to see.
The duke stepped in first, then Ash toed forth behind him. It was clear that no ground existed beneath the basket, and it was even more clear that the basket was suspended over the infinite chasm by a single steel rope. There was space enough to run laps within, but she refused to step anywhere but the very centre; reasoning that she wouldn¡¯t be able to tip it over if she stood directly beneath the rope.
A man, who must have been an attendant, pressed a button on the wall. Another rope beneath the button lit up with a brilliant blue light and with it, the basket shifted. First it was but a little jolt, then it slowly began to rise, then it rose rapidly climbing swiftness. She struggled to keep afoot as it flew higher and higher into the tower. The duke barely seemed to notice any movement at all, yet she stood with her knees buckling beneath and her heart left on the floors below.
It didn¡¯t last long, maybe a minute or two, before it slowed and stopped. Despite the brevity of the journey, it was immediately clear that they had travelled a great distance. She imagined that if she found a window, she might look down even on mountains. It wasn¡¯t quite true, despite the vast height of the tower, it was still a construction of man. The tip was likely as tall as a building could be, though it held no majesty when compared with even some small formation of the gods.
The duke had no words for her as they disembarked the flying bucket and set through the near corridor. They came upon a terrible doorway. Dust caked the handle and an overwhelming sense of dread consumed her at the sight.
It was simple. White wood with a leaf pattern engraved within. She had no reason to fear, and yet she did.
¡°Enter alone,¡± the duke quietly ordered.
¡°What¡¯s in there?¡±
¡°A ghost.¡±
The door creaked open and a layer of dust unsettled with the action. It swirled in the air before her. It caught on a sunbeam.
Ahead of her was a great circular window that faced the rising sun. A desk of old mahogany bathed in its light. Ten rows of bookshelves crossed to her right, and thirty stood to her left. A ladder near the door would take her to the upper level, where a kind of seating area was set out.
She couldn¡¯t see too well from the ground floor, but it looked like one of the glasses had an iced drink within.
Ashtik walked carefully further into the room. Every step left a print in the otherwise undisturbed dust. She could track her every step, and was otherwise glad to see that no other tracks were to be found.
A breeze caught her hair, and stroked at her neck. How could there be a breeze?
She turned on a heel to see what could have touched her, but nothing was there so she carried on. She came upon the desk, and ran a finger along the dusty surface. It marked a line, so she marked another to make an ¡®X¡¯.
A letter rested on the table; it¡¯s wax seal broken. She opened it, but couldn¡¯t read the strange blue letters within.
¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Ash whispered. The breeze harassed her again, but this time it stroked against her arm. The gauntlet didn¡¯t seem to like that. A single spark of purple lightning shot out as the breeze grew stronger.
She could have sworn the air spoke. It must have said, ¡°Champion,¡± but that wasn¡¯t possible.
¡°Champion,¡± nothing repeated much more definitively.
¡°Who¡¯s there?¡±
¡°Champion...¡±
¡°Come out!¡±
¡°Skin. They took my skin. You did this. Champion.¡±
¡°Who are you? What are you talking about?¡±
¡°I screamed for days, but I didn¡¯t die. He wouldn¡¯t let me.¡±
¡°Who wouldn¡¯t?¡±
¡°Champion. You.¡±
¡°A Champion hurt you? Who are you?¡±
¡°Alone. Afraid. Alone. Afraid. Al...¡±
¡°Show yourself! I want to help you.¡±
¡°Help me?¡±
¡°Yes!¡±
¡°Champion. Help.¡±
¡°Yes, just come out. I mean you no harm.¡±
¡°Champion. Makes it right.¡±
¡°If I can, I will!¡±
¡°Champion gives me what he stole. I have it back.¡±
¡°What did he steal?¡±
¡°Skin.¡±
It was faceless, it was wrong. A spirit, and a curse. It did not linger, but lunge. It screamed with the torment of damnation through its skinless lips. A bone hand, and the tendons holding it together, reached out for Ash.
Ash couldn¡¯t move. It wasn¡¯t fear, but something more. A power. It held her in place as the creature caressed her cheek. The creature¡¯s nail dug into her cheek and drew a first blood.
¡°I watch the window,¡± the thing wailed, ¡°I watch the lights. I watch them dance and play. I watch what I will never have. I watch what you denied me. I watch and watch and watch, now you will too. You can see everything like me; can¡¯t you, Ashtik?¡±
Ash couldn¡¯t reply for her jaw refused to open and her eyes refused to shiver. She was stuck in place, stuck in terror.
¡°Why did you do it, Champion? If I upset you, then why did you smile as you cut me? Why is your smile burnt behind my eyes? I see it in the dark. When the night is still, and the clouds have parted, I look up to the stars and I know that you are up there, while I''m stuck here. I will suffer for so long as I must, but please... where is my skin? I¡¯m so cold without it. I¡¯m so bare. Was it truly so beautiful that you had to take it with you into the stars? Am I so terrible that I could not come with it?¡±
The creature drew its finger down her cheek and took with it, a token of blood. It came closer, close enough that Ash could see the pulsing veins behind its eyes. Close enough that she could hear the screams that ran through its heart in place of a simple beat.
It drew close enough that her gauntlet reacted again.
A beauty of power. A snowfall of purple shards, and a lightning storm of raw destruction. She could move her arm, her gauntlet, but nothing else. She raised her fingers towards the creature as a flurry of black and purple power flooded out. The strikes tore through the bookshelves and left gouged scars in the marble floor. The dust around them floated in the air without movement as a new wave of power built within her outstretched hand.
It was not some valiant effort. Her face had been frozen, like the rest of her body, in a state of abject terror but it did not matter. Fear did not matter.
The power came forth and purged the creature, and the wall behind it... and the wall behind that.
When the rubble settled, and Ash had control of herself yet again, she whispered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±
Chapter Fifteen: Strength.
Have you heard a tale of a princess atop a tower of ice? A knight battling at its base, a dragon guarding its skies? A tale of escape, a tale of romance. Ashtik stood alone in her tower of ice, but she did not feel romantic. The creature, the princess, had not been saved. It dispersed as dust, though its wails lost their ghostly gravity. There was no slain monster; but a woman, a girl, tortured and slaughtered. Now it had been Ash who had killed her at last. Was it a mercy? Was it kinder to finish her, or was that just an excuse?
The creature was gone but its cries remained. It¡¯s blood-soaked tears and skinless shudders echoed through whimpering air. The study looked to be empty, but for her, and yet it felt as though every book and every painting judged her as the tormenting Champion.
¡°She was my ancestor,¡± a grave voice whispered from the doorway. Ash dashed her head around to look at him. It was not the man who had led her up; it was some other, less regal, fellow. ¡°Brought to harm by a Champion of Green. Nobody knows why, but there can be no justification for such an act against a young woman like she.¡±
¡°Who are you?¡± Ash asked in a daze.
¡°I have the pleasure of being the duke,¡± he smiled.
¡°I met the duke, it wasn¡¯t you,¡± Ash accused.
¡°Indeed, we are a triarchy. Three heads, one crown. But you are not here to discuss systems of governance,¡± he said with hollow amber eyes.
This ¡®duke¡¯ took a delicate step into the ancient study. His boots were the first of his line to disturb the dust for centuries untold. He looked around, appreciating every crevasse and corner, as he slowly approached Ash. She could see the marks of office he bore as he drew closer. Rather than the coronet his fellow had worn, this duke equipped a set of royal rings. One, of ruby-encrusted silver, held the seal of the ghost in the tower. The next, a ring of platinum and emerald, bore the mark of a hammer and anvil. The ring on his middle finger held no sigil at all, while the ring at his index showed a shimmering portal of sapphire and gold.
He wore simple clothes. A black suit with a white rim, in the style of Xio Vien. Leather boots with steel caps, better suited for a field worker rather than a ruler.
Ash looked to the silver pendant at his collar and asked, ¡°Why did she attack me, the ghost?¡±
¡°She always attacks Champions and only Champions. We had to seal the floor off many lifetimes ago, as to protect your kind from her wrath,¡± he answered.
¡°Then why did your fellow have me enter?¡±
¡°You make an incredible claim as the Champion of Black. It requires equally incredible evidence. She was that evidence.¡±
¡°So, her attacking me was a test?¡±
¡°One you passed, Champion.¡±
¡°Then you will help me?¡±
¡°I will be of any, and all, assistance you require. The full services of myself and my colleagues are at your disposal. My city is yours, should you wish it,¡± the duke said. He fell to one knee and held his gaze at her boots.
¡°You would give me your city?¡± Ash doubted.
¡°I would give you my everything, my life should it be of help.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°You are the Champion of Black,¡± he whispered. ¡°The fate of the world rests upon your shoulders. There is no worth to my titles and lands if the land is destroyed, and my realm forgotten. I refuse to bury myself in a casket of gold and honour.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t need your city, ser,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°But I do need to meet your king.¡±
¡°Then it shall be.¡± The one-third duke crossed the ancient mahogany desk and looked out over his fief. ¡°A marvellous view, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±
Ash hadn¡¯t really noticed it. She had been much too occupied in the ghosty vision to appreciate the vast and open planes of these Forgelands. It looked so different than her homeland. There were no thick forests, no vast mountains. Rivers split a thousand times to reach a thousand farms. Endless fields of red grass and gold crops. She could see the city beneath the clouds, and the million men that could have been ants.
She imagined this was what the gods could see. Every man, every story, nought more than an ant. It was no wonder they seemed so apathetic; how could they notice the suffering of a spec?
¡°It¡¯s... big,¡± was all Ash could manage.
¡°Biggest city in the world, most populus too. Four million men, women and children. Too many for one ruler, so we split them between the three of us,¡± the duke said with an abundance of pride. It was the most emotion she had heard in his voice.
¡°I¡¯ve never heard of a ruler splitting up so much power,¡± Ash said.
¡°It¡¯s a rare thing, I suppose. But this is a unique city and requires unique oversight. I am the Duke of men; you have met the Duke of force and will no doubt meet the ducissa of finance soon enough. We each preside over what we can, but no man is great enough to manage millions alone.¡±
A heart-shaped cloud shattered against the spire of ice. She hadn¡¯t expected it to part so amiably. She had always expected clouds to be somewhat sturdier, but it flowed like a fog where she had expected it to ripple like a wave.
¡°I will send for the king, Champion, but it will be some days before he can return from battle. In the meantime, your compatriots shall be placed in an apartment at the emerald palace. I insist you enjoy our city as fully as you are able. Allow me to be the first to say: welcome, to the Forgelands.¡±
The air was thicker than she was used to. It was as though lightning reared to strike but could not let loose its wrath. A warm and humid nation, one she was glad to experience. The duke had led her, and the others, towards a royal exit. It was gated from the masses and studded with guards. A viridian rug marked the path onwards where two pikemen hefted open a grand iron gate.
A woman stood waiting there. Shorter than even Evara, though two massive dark pools sat in place of eyes. Ash had never seen a woman of her kind before, but she had heard of them. A Dwargon lady. People confined to mines and caves for generations. Famed for their hardy workmanship and strength, as well as their capacity for soul magic. Though it was known that they tended to make for poor hunters and archers on account of their stocky, dense stature and short limbs.
This woman looked up to Ash with all the admiration and fear one could possibly hold in eyes so large. It was a look not of reverence, but dread. Brilliant, terrible dread. The dread of a weapon capable of destroying her whole world, but one that she knew would be entirely necessary to save her life. Her awe and fear did not detract from her confidence, however. She locked her massive gaze on Ash and seemed to feign apathy as the Champion drew near.
¡°Sparrow-Knight,¡± the dwargon woman curtsied. ¡°My name is Jesseck. I am to be your guide. It is a pleasure to meet you!¡±
She did not speak with a Forgeland accent, or at least she did not speak like Sujin. Her voice held a stronger tone. Not a sound of flowers and luxury, but of hard work and agony. Each word was a syllable short and spoken in half the time it would take Sujin to say.
¡°Hello, Jesseck,¡± Evara answered in Ash¡¯s place. ¡°That is very kind of you.¡±
¡°Oh, of course,¡± Jesseck stammered. Her gaze darted between Ash and Ev, clearly unsure of to whom she ought to direct her admiration. ¡°If you would then, my lady,¡± the short woman offered.
Houses as thin and tall as towering trees, roads and pathways as smooth as seastone, lanes of crimson grasses where mounts and steeds awaited their absent masters. The tower was clearly the centre of the city. A ring of gilded entertainment surrounded it, a cultural marvel on full display.
Through the vast crowds in the near areas, she could barely spot a single human. Hulking grey-skinned women with pointed tusks that reached nearly to their own hearts risked eclipsing even Amell as they marched by the dozen. Dwargon traders and tourists waddled in their respective packs, either hoping to shed some trinkets and wares or hoping to find some to show off back home. She passed a lanky young man with flowing blue hair and deep black eyes the size of her fists. A fur-clad yellow fellow made some attempt to flirt with a grey-skinned giantess, though he was quickly trampled and forgotten.
She heard a thousand tongues speak in ten thousand languages. Some sounded so familiar, they may as well have been her own; while some sounded so foreign, they may as well have come from another world.
The guide, Jesseck, brought them to a carriage station where a large cart stopped before them. It was not like the carts of the Veil. This was long and thin with a hollow interior and enough seats to fit fifty. The beast that carried it along was no horse, but a massive silver-skinned animal with a single horn jutting out from its nose and four shimmering eyes which seemed to catch on her. The beast was filled with some strange pride. Its master treated it as a son, and it treated its burden as a job. It was a concept she thought too complicated for a beast, but one she could see was true.
They mounted the carriage with thirty other beings of all stripes and kinds. It carried them along the straight and smooth paths as they left the entertainment quarter and found what must have been a middle-class residential area. The houses weren¡¯t quite so thin, nor stacked so closely, but they were all just as tall. Red bricks, white planks and green mortar made the majority of the houses, while occasional others were made of many different resources.
This was not to be their stop, though the bulk of their fellow passengers dismounted here.
She could see why, a stadium of grand design. It towered above every other building but the spire itself. An octagon of spiralling, twisting glass, rimmed with a pearly white frame and colossal struts of the same design. Every creature under the sun, no matter how great or small, stood ready around this temple of man.
¡°We are further along yet,¡± Jesseck said. It was the first thing Ash had heard from the woman, despite the fact that she had been speaking nonstop. She had been telling tales of local lore and legends. Telling the names of individual bricks and buildings. Giving tips on activities to attempt during their visit. Doubtless, Evara had hung on every word and would be reciting it incessantly for the remainder of the trip,
The coach travelled quickly, but it still took near on two hours to cross the city. They finally arrived at the outskirts. Manors and garrisons studded the giant white jade walls. Purple veins sprouted from within the white stone, almost in the same way they had on Ash¡¯s arm when she gained her mark.
Fields of grass and farmland surrounded the massive manor houses. Each house was a unique design and each structure held the history of a different culture. There were homes of stone and iron; of bark and mud; brick and straw. There was even a home in the style of the Veil. An artificial mound had been erected and a ten-meter-tall doorway had been dug out. She could only imagine what the home looked like beneath the dirt, but above seemed as natural and forested as her own childhood home had been; if a little larger.
They carried on past a stone bunker set into the ground where a small force of Dwargon warriors trained for battle. They crossed a tent garrison where Vamish archers trained to fire their magic arrows. Finally, a strange tower blocked the end of their path. A large slanted stone base lifted the building five or six meters higher than the ground. The tower itself was made of a porous beige block with a faded red skirt and roof. Vibrant orange lanterns hung from each corner of the square tower¡¯s skirts, and a different skirt marked each floor within. Thin slits in the walls obscured the hundred eyes that peered out from within.
¡°Taob!¡± A man called, though Ash couldn¡¯t see him from within the carriage.
Jesseck bowed out of her conversation with Evara saying, ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me a moment,¡± before she dismounted the carriage and presented some sealed papers from beneath her olive robes.
¡°Xie tu-mem. Ak kuoloq?¡± She asked.
¡°Cahi tu-mem? Xinhu?¡± The man replied with a level of shock.
¡°Hu tu-mem xiandao,¡± seemed to be the end of the conversation. Jesseck returned the scroll to her robe and settled back within their cart.
¡°Everything okay?¡± Ev asked.
¡°Of course,¡± Jesseck smiled. ¡°Those will be your guards for the duration of your stay. Some of the delegated men-at-arms from Xio Vien. I assure you that they are possibly the greatest guardsmen on the continent.¡±
The carriage moved onwards and the men came into view. Each man and woman stood at six feet tall with a great two-handed silver steel glaive. They wore armour so very unlike that of her own. Where her chest plate was smooth and polished black steel, they wore gold and crimson snake scales with a single metal disc over at the centre of their chest. Their helms did not cover their faces, but a single strut fell over their noses, and a spear tip rose from the top of the helm.
Three bands of larger scales layered over each other and surrounded their necks like a rigid scarf. The women wore a vambrace over their left arms while the men stored a small dagger in place of the leather pad. Each was ornately decorated with runes and engravings, and polished to the point that Ash could barely see past the glaring sun as it reflected into her eyes.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
They all seemed to admire her as much as she did them. She felt the eyes of the senior most guards burn every feature of her face into memory as they rode past.
The house matched the style of the tower, only this place was huge. Larger even than the baron¡¯s own keep. It would take an hour just to circle the whole building, let alone the fields and grounds that surrounded it. A massive, multi-storey, palace of beige stone with vibrant red skirts and a hundred magic lanterns hanging from each. Glass windows looked over the grounds and suggested a small army of servantry rushed around within.
¡°We understand that this is not the style of accommodation you are used to, but I¡¯m afraid that it is all that was available at such short notice. The nobleman who owns the manor was honoured to lend its comforts to such an esteemed guest,¡± Jesseck beamed.
¡°The whole building?¡± Ev gasped.
¡°Of course, my lady.¡±
¡°But... that¡¯s so much for so few of us.¡±
¡°You would struggle to find any other accommodation this close to the tournament, especially a humbler sort.¡±
Any protestation was purely for show, Ash knew. Her sister had always dreamed of a palace, of being a princess in her own kingdom. This was every fantasy the child had ever dared dream of, come true. It must have taken every ounce of reserve and ¡®propriety¡¯ to stop the young girl from bouncing in place like a little rabbit. Ash took Ev¡¯s hand in her own and felt her pulse racing.
¡°Everything you could possibly need is contained within these grounds. The garrison holds a training area which is open at all times, and a blacksmith which closes at sundown,¡± Jesseck said to Amell and Sujin. ¡°There is a bathhouse for the men in the east wing, and one for women in the west. The library is currently undergoing renovation and, while it is still accessible, it isn¡¯t terribly safe. I would advise avoiding the area for the time being,¡± she continued towards Ev.
A bathhouse sounded like heaven, and she had no doubt a little danger would deter Ev from exploring the undoubtedly vast library.
¡°If you would,¡± the dwargette ushered.
They climbed the ten-or-so stairs into their new temporary home. Two cherrywood doors swung open, their silver knockers rattling as they went. To each side of the doors lay eight-and-eight servants. They bowed so deeply that they lay on their knees with their faces buried against the smooth wooden floor tiles. The eight to the left were all women, long flowing black hair cascaded over white and red silken robes. To the right, bowed the men. Each kept their hair in a strangely short way. So thin at the sides that they may as well have been bald, yet so long on top that they had to slick it all the way back. The men wore less elegant garb when compared to the women. Deep red leather over a rough, yet pristine, white shirt. It was clear the men were meant for more physical work in this household.
Jesseck was kind enough to guide them to the ¡®family wing¡¯ of the house. This was where they would stay. A large open room sat at its centre, while corridors splintered off in all directions to every room they could possibly need. The centre room, this communal space, was filled with cushions and plush seats. A table lay at the far end, and twelve chairs surrounded it. A lowered section of floor was covered in a thick purple carpet and at least a hundred felt and velvet pillows were scattered within the space.
The left corridor led to the women¡¯s rooms, while the right led to the men¡¯s. Straight ahead would have you at the bathhouse, beside the men¡¯s area lay the kitchen, and beside the women¡¯s lay the library.
A servant lit a bundle of incense atop the rear table and the smell of fresh ginger filled the room.
¡°I¡¯ll... erm, let you get settled,¡± Evara said, her eyes affixed to the library. She shifted closer, though she seemed almost guilty in her immediate abandonment of the group at the sight of a mere book depository.
¡°Have fun,¡± Ash smirked, and with the blessing, her sister vanished through the door.
¡°I too, would like to take my leave; If I may?¡± Sujin asked.
¡°Of course, you don¡¯t need my permission,¡± Ash scoffed. ¡°Are you off somewhere?¡±
¡°No, I would simply like to find some tomes on magic. To see if I can better understand what happened with your sister in the forest,¡± he bowed.
¡°Oh,¡± Ash gasped, ¡°right. Thank you.¡± Her worries for Evara hadn¡¯t faded entirely, but the incident at the forest had been somewhat drowned out in her mind given everything that had happened before and since. She was... warmed, that he would so quickly focus on Ev¡¯s troubles, even after she had all but forgotten.
Jesseck turned to take her own leave, but looked to Ash one last time and said, ¡°The manor is guarded at all times. You are safe here, as is your family. I will... pray for you, Champion.¡±
Then there were two. Ash sat atop a long, cushioned purple couch and buried her face beneath her hands. She heard, and felt, Amell sit at the other end of the couch, but he didn¡¯t speak to her as she drew a single lifelong breath.
¡°Stressed?¡± He quietly asked.
¡°A touch,¡± she scoffed.
¡°I can¡¯t say I blame you. Be proud of yourself, though. You¡¯ve been incredible so far. There aren¡¯t many folk who can take on a Veytor checkpoint and live to tell the tale.¡±
¡°They weren¡¯t the first Veytors we killed.¡±
¡°Aye, I found the first while I was tracking you. Those were the first, right?¡±
¡°Yeah.¡±
¡°Were those the first men you¡¯ve...¡±
¡°Killed?¡±
¡°Yes, were those the first?¡±
¡°No, the first was a few weeks ago. A bandit.¡±
¡°Tell me about it.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
He looked at her for the first time and she even managed to look at him. His eyes seemed so much warmer than the cold blue ought to allow. It was remarkable how much he reminded her of how Tilak, her father, had once been. He drew a breath through his split lip and said, ¡°It would tell me a lot about you. About who you are. I would like to know who I fight for.¡±
Ash tried to recall the battle, and its prelude. She remembered the warmth of the blood and how grateful she was for it under the icy rains. She remembered his crooked and broken smile as he drew his hidden blade.
¡°You won¡¯t like what you hear,¡± she whispered.
¡°And yet, I¡¯ll stand beside you.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know, in truth. Maybe you remind me of my son, or maybe your Goden is forcing me to protect you. It matters not, for the result is the same. I wish to know who you are, beyond sparrows and fancy gloves.¡±
¡°Okay,¡± Ash sighed, ¡°he was... a scout, I suppose. He wanted to know what kind of defences the village had.¡±
¡°Did you realise?¡± Amell quietly asked.
¡°No,¡± she laughed. ¡°He told me he was a trader, and I believed him; fool that I am. Anyone else would have seen through him right away, but I guess I¡¯m just not that good with people. Who could¡¯ve guessed?¡±
¡°What happened?¡±
¡°A... real trader, Vamet, called out. He told me the man was a bandit, I think his name was Avante,¡± Ash recalled.
¡°Avante?¡± Amell repeated.
¡°Yeah, I think.¡±
¡°Avante just means ¡®hello¡¯,¡± Amell chuckled softly.
¡°It does? I called out, ¡®who goes there?¡¯ And he said, ¡®Avante, white-hair.¡¯ then something to do with having wares to sell.¡±
¡°I think he was just greeting you,¡± Amell said in a way that suggested he was trying to be gentle. ¡°But, please, continue.¡±
¡°He, er, drew a blade,¡± Ash sighed as though it were a casual conversation, ¡°after realising his cover was blown. I remember... black teeth. He was snarling. No, he was grinning. Smiling from ear to ear as he slashed for my heart. I barely managed to dodge before he slashed again, and again. He was savage, hungry for the kill. But, as strong and fast as he was, he was unskilled. I managed to beat him, get atop of him. I- I stabbed him. Again, and again, and again.¡± Ashtik paused for breath as the memory became more vivid. She could feel it again; the rain, the blood, the steel. She felt her dirk expertly slip his ribs, and she felt his heart pop against its tip.
¡°You were scared, nobody can blame you for a kill of emotion,¡± Amell tried to comfort.
¡°But that¡¯s just it,¡± Ash scoffed, ¡°I wasn¡¯t scared. It wasn¡¯t a passionate action. It was cold and calculated. I slipped the dirk perfectly into his lungs, then I dragged it right until I felt his heart. I plunged it down to shatter his sternum and quickly slit his throat. Then I just... stopped. I could have finished him quickly, but there was no point, he was beaten. I just listened as he begged for a life I could no longer save, even if I wanted to,¡± she sniffed but felt no risk of tears, ¡°I have never been scared in a fight. Never feared for my life. I¡¯ve been calm, and reasoned... and efficient.¡±
¡°And how do you feel about that?¡±
¡°I... hate myself. A monster should revel in death, a hero should mourn it. But me? I don¡¯t care, I haven¡¯t cared once. That¡¯s not even the worst of it; do you know what phoenix ash is?¡±
¡°War flame,¡± he answered sadly.
¡°I burnt men, and boys, alive. I have no idea how many died and to be completely honest, I don¡¯t care. They were going to hurt Evara, so I burnt them all with apathy. What does that make me?¡±
¡°There is a word for that,¡± Amell whispered. ¡°For doing what is necessary, for killing who you must to protect those who cannot protect themselves.¡±
¡°A Champion?¡± Ash sardonically guessed.
¡°A Queen.¡±
She sat alone in the great marble bath. It was closer to a lake than the dinky little tub that had been in her childhood home. She could swim laps in it but chose instead to float in the steamy waters as, for the first time in weeks, her mind was empty. It was as close to meditation as she could get without the woods, but it served just as well. She felt the stress of Championship bundle into little beads of sweat as they ran over her belly and were swallowed and forgotten by the baths.
Ashtik drew a single, perfect breath as she opened her eyes and inspected her new condition. As a huntress, she had garnered a few scars, but as a Champion; she was already covered. The worst of them lay at her hip. A large and garish slash against the dark and otherwise smooth flesh. A small one lay over her heart, where the Champion of White had tried to end her with his skinny little blade, and countless other little scratches had decided to stick along for the rest of her journey.
She looked to her left arm, or what little of it remained. The gauntlet was halfway up her bicep by this point. It had already consumed the smith¡¯s inferior armguard that had lay there previously. Soon enough it would be her shoulder, then Godens only knows.
She didn¡¯t panic at the sight. It wasn¡¯t like an all-consuming cancer, but a muscle that she had trained and improved with each and every passing moment. Truthfully, she wasn¡¯t sure if that really was what she believed, or if it was just the easiest way to cope with the existential threat that was slowly consuming her.
None of it mattered. Beneath the steam and above the water, she lay. Each breath, a reward for her perseverance. Each muscle, loose at last. Each blink, slower and slower. She could almost fade away, almost.
¡°Cut through the throat and split the balls.
¡°Don¡¯t say it like that.¡±
¡°Okay, separate the head from the body, and the head from the jewels.¡±
¡°You¡¯re disgusting.¡±
¡°You¡¯re the one with its balls in your hand.¡±
¡°Why do I have to do it like this, anyway? You don¡¯t have to...¡±
¡°...Castrate.¡±
¡°Yeah, you don¡¯t have to ¡®castrate¡¯ a deer.¡±
¡°Does that look like a deer?¡±
¡°Well, no. It¡¯s a... Yaruk?¡±
¡°Close, the same family. This is a northern urai, see the extra horn?¡±
¡°How do you always know? Do you just know every animal?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know every animal. Just the ones in these forests. You¡¯ll get there one day, Snowy.¡±
¡°No, I won¡¯t.¡±
¡°What do you mean?¡±
¡°It¡¯s just... Evara¡¯s half my age but she¡¯s twice as smart, and Damen! He¡¯s only a couple of years older than me, but he¡¯s almost as big as you. What¡¯s the point in practising with my spear when Damen will always be stronger than me? Why learn every animal, when Evara knows everything?... I¡¯ll never be as good a hunter as you, Dad. I¡¯ll never be as capable as Damen, or as bright as Ev. What¡¯s the point in me?¡±
¡°Snowy... I- Look, Evy has a brilliant mind, Damen will probably grow to be twice my size given enough time, but neither of them are you. Neither of them see the world in the same way you do.¡±
¡°Great, that sounds like a participation trophy. ¡®Oh, you¡¯re not as good as anyone else here, but at least you aren¡¯t blind!¡¯¡±
¡°Just... Look at this Urai. Tell me about it, Snowy.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Do as you¡¯re told.¡±
¡°Fine. It¡¯s old; a father. It¡¯s got a scar on its hind. Probably got it fighting a predator... No, the marks are small, three claws in a rising attack. It struck from low, but not beneath. It wasn¡¯t an adult, but some young buck... His son.¡±
¡°Why were they fighting?¡±
¡°I... think the son wanted to take over the family, he attacked the father to show dominance.¡±
¡°What happened?¡±
¡°The buck was too young, too weak, but the father didn¡¯t want to discourage him. He allowed the buck to strike, that he would learn how far he had yet to rise. That he would learn why the father had to stay in charge.¡±
¡°You are brilliant, Snowy. You don¡¯t have to be as strong as a man because you can be better than him. You don¡¯t have to be as intelligent as a scholar because you are wiser and you are kinder than them. Now stop wasting time and snip his nob off. I¡¯m hungry.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not eating its nob.¡±
¡°So fussy. Alright then, just get rid of it.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°Come on, get a move on.¡±
¡°No... That¡¯s not right. You wouldn¡¯t get rid of it.¡±
¡°Cut it out, I''m too hungry for this.¡±
¡°My dad wouldn¡¯t waste anything... This isn¡¯t how it happened... What¡¯s going on?¡±
¡°Stop playing Snowy. Just get to snipping.¡±
¡°Why can¡¯t I see you? Where even are we?¡±
¡°What are you talking about? We¡¯re in the woods, look, it¡¯s the urai.¡±
¡°There¡¯s nothing there. We¡¯re talking about something that isn¡¯t there. I¡¯m talking to you, but you aren¡¯t there. What colour is the urai?¡±
¡°It¡¯s... green? Are you feeling okay?¡±
¡°I- this isn¡¯t real. I¡¯m not here. You aren¡¯t my dad.¡±
¡°Calm down, Snowy. Just sit back down.¡±
¡°How do you know if I stood up? What are you?¡±
¡°I... Just wanted to talk... in a way that made sense.¡±
¡°Who are you?¡±
Nobody important.
Chapter Sixteen: Valour.
The clash of heels against marble echoed through the halls. Delicate steps that came closer and closer. It couldn¡¯t be Evara, she¡¯d have fallen flat after her first step in heels. She doubted the dainty sound could be Amell, though it would be a sight to see. The steps didn¡¯t stop as they grew louder still.
A little wave rippled over her bare arm, it lapped across her aching calf and took up the weight of her skull.
The heels didn¡¯t walk, they sauntered. She could hear the sway of her hips, the confidence of her stride. A silent beckon, an unspoken promise. A white lie and a smoky kiss carried on lilac winds. A lover at first sight, a friend come the next, and maybe something even more after that.
¡°You are going to wrinkle.¡±
Ash jolted awake. It felt like she had been falling, her belly tore through the ground while she tried to keep above the water line. She stood straight, the tips of her toes finally finding the tiled floor beneath the stirring waves. Her eyes focused past the thinning steam to see a dark-haired figure standing at the far end. Her heart fluttered at the thought: could it be her?
By instinct, Ash covered herself. She dropped lower in the water as she wiped away the drops that clouded her vision. Dark hair, red robes, but bright pink lips and cold dark eyes.
¡°I did not mean to startle you, Champion,¡± the figure whispered. Her voice was all too soft, her smile all too forced. ¡°It is simply that the day grows long, and you have slept for some time. The night won¡¯t accept you if you waste your day.¡±
¡°I... What is the hour?¡± Ash stammered, trying to mask her embarrassment.
¡°That of the doe, sixteenth of the day,¡± the woman replied. She turned and slid noiselessly across the bathhouse to fetch a towel for Ash.
¡°Were you-¡± Ash tried to ask, but the question caught in her throat. ¡°Heels, were you wearing heels?¡±
¡°No, my lady. I could, if you wish me to.¡±
¡°No, it¡¯s- it must have been a dream.¡±
¡°Very well, my lady. Shall I have the staff prepare you something to eat?¡± The woman asked as she held out a fluffy blue towel for Ash to dry herself with. It must have been apparent that Ash was uncomfortable as the woman began to avert her eyes, even going so far as to turn her bowed head towards the opposite wall.
¡°I- erm. No, thank you. Do you... know where my sister is?¡± Ashtik asked. She took the towel with a whispered thanks and quickly gathered her modesty.
¡°I believe she is still within the library. Sister Rose tells me that she has created something of a bunker for herself. I doubt she will be joining us for some time yet,¡± the woman smiled, now facing Ash again. She was of a height with Ash, though stood as though she were much taller. A cold kind of confidence dripped from the woman¡¯s dark, dove-wing eyes like tears would from another woman¡¯s.
¡°Oh, I see. Thank you, but I didn¡¯t catch your name,¡± Ash said. She quelled her timidity for a moment and matched the woman¡¯s gaze. Ash could see the mask she wore. She was not truly so cold as her eyes pretended. There was a warmth greater than that of the water in which she yet stood, sealed an inch behind the near black of her iris.
¡°Mei, my lady. I am the prime maid of the house, and shall act as your personal attendant for the duration of your stay,¡± the dark-haired woman bowed.
¡°Oh, right. Thank you, Mei, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll need an attendant. It¡¯s nice to meet you, though,¡± Ash awkwardly smiled, fully aware of every bead of water that dripped from her hair and down her towel.
¡°It is a pleasure to meet you too, my lady. I will be nearby at all times, should you change your mind.¡±
With the uncomfortable dismissal, Mei made away to make the most of her remaining day. Ash thought she really ought to do the same.
Her armour had been taken by some attendant while she bathed, in its place lay a fine cotton robe and a pair of strange fluffy shoes. The soles were so thin that she doubted there would be any point in wearing them, so she opted to don the robe and made for her reserved chambers.
It took all her will, and all her strength, not to collapse down into the goose-down bed and sleep the day away. The room had been well-lived in, but the bed looked to be brand new. She found scuffs along the thick pile carpet where the frame must have been dragged along. The first sleep, in a brand-new bed, in a brand-new nation. It would have to wait until the day was done.
A quicksilver mirror lay in the far corner, framed in ivory. She caught a glimpse of herself and had to look again. The girl who had been a huntress was already gone; this was some new woman.
Her slender, athletic build had quietly been replaced with this much more muscle-bound body. It reminded her of a dream, one in which she was a queen; an empress. She had looked like this then, if a little broader and a much older.
She did not think her trials had been so demanding as to give her the frame of a warrior so soon, but she could not deny her eyes as she dropped her robe. Smooth curves and slim lines had come to be harsh and angled. Scarred and battered.
The amethyst of her eyes hadn¡¯t yet faded to the grey of the empress, but they did look hollower here. That Evara hadn¡¯t made mention of the transformation gave Ash hope that it was all in her mind, or that she was suffering some trick of the light. She even laughed as a thought found her; maybe the mirror was magic. Maybe some insecure nobleman had his mirror enchanted to make a more manly, muscled visage of himself.
Ashtik gathered some acceptable clothes that had been left within a set of draws and laid them out. The clothes were all in the fashion of Xio Vien, and not particularly to her liking. Colourful patterns and beautifully stitched flowers laced into flowing silk robes. She had grown so used to leather armour ¨C or even her new steel ¨C that she doubted she would remember how to even attach the garbs.
She settled on a white top with a neck that covered her own and a spiral of buttons flowing down and around her entire body. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to don the skirts, not out of distaste for skirts themselves, but because they trailed much too far behind her. There must have been two meters of additional material behind her. It may have looked elegant, but if Ash decided to turn around, she¡¯d have to do a lap of the room.
Fortunately, in the next set of draws, she found a pair of black pants. She put them on first and found that they were also of Xioan design. A kind of sash ¨C or belt ¨C wrapped around her waist and came higher than her naval, though it was hidden beneath the top as she slowly buttoned it up.
Her hair was still far from dry, though she hadn¡¯t had time to properly maintain it in weeks. The tattooed vines at her temples had entirely vanished beneath a tuft of white. Though it wasn¡¯t nearly as long as Evara¡¯s hair, it was still much longer than she was accustomed to.
She decided to braid her hair again, but she would do so in the library so Ev could give her a hand.
That was until three quiet knocks broke her thoughts.
¡°Hello?¡± Ash called out to the big red door.
¡°Are you clothed?¡± A man asked.
¡°Amell?¡±
¡°Aye,¡± he replied. ¡°I was thinking we should head out for a while.¡±
¡°Where?¡±
¡°I was going to check out the tourney, see if we can¡¯t put a few knights on their asses. Come along, if you aren¡¯t busy.¡±
The tourney did sound interesting, though she didn¡¯t relish the idea of walking through all of those crowds. A chance to test herself, and how far she had come, did sound like a worthy waste of an afternoon.
She crossed the room and slid the door open where the giant stood beneath his lapis cloak.
¡°Do you know how to do a braid?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Sure,¡± he laughed.
The grand stadium held two ques. One line, vast as an ocean of drunkards, was meant for the audience. They bore the paints of favoured athletes as they sang and danced their way within. There seemed to be no end to them, though Ash did not doubt that the arena could hold all of them.
The queue Ash made for consisted of a much more eclectic band, though not nearly as many as the other. Maybe two-hundred warriors in all. Giant grey swordsmen, dense dwargon scrappers, elegant tenpic fencers. A few even bothered to spar, though it mostly seemed in good spirit. A scaled man and a tusked woman clashed heads with an echoing boom while others cheered them on. A silver-skinned Tenpic woman danced around the gentle strikes of a Quitevi marksman. She even saw some strange Baji artificer tooling with his gadgets.
She felt thoroughly out of place. A northern huntress had no home in battle, especially not a battle of recreation. She even felt somewhat overdressed, which truly was a foreign feeling for her. However, she couldn¡¯t help but notice that Amell was wearing fairly similar clothes. For the first time since she had met him; he had shed his steel skin and its black underlayer. Now, he wore a fine white buttoned shirt with a strange collar and a stranger symbol embroidered within. She imagined it was some Kovayeshi style of outfit and that perhaps the symbol was some mark of his countrymen.
¡°You okay, Ash?¡± The giant asked.
¡°Yeah, just nervous.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t be. You¡¯ve beat Veytors, a couple of Oda cavalrymen won¡¯t do much harm.¡±
¡°You say that but... I mean, aren¡¯t you a wanted man?¡± Ash whispered.
¡°Well, yes,¡± he admitted with a sly simper, ¡°but nobody will be looking at me. Not when the Sparrow-Knight shows up. Besides, most believe I¡¯m dead. They certainly won¡¯t think to find me here.¡±
The assurances felt hollow but he spoke them as if they were absolute. She had little time to ponder him before a grand bell rang out. Every man, woman and child knew what it meant. All as one, they marched forth. A stampeding swarm with surprisingly synchronised steps.
¡°Off we go,¡± Amell chuckled.
It tore through the air. It came close enough to shave her brow, but it wouldn¡¯t be enough. She twirled her borrowed blade around her hips and drew it to her right hand, where she thrust it into the foot of her opponent.
¡°I yield!¡± The great mound of meat whimpered. He was just in time, as well. Any longer and he¡¯d have become intimately familiar with the point of her left-handed dagger.
The crowd roared; it was the upset of the decade by the sound of it. The felled beast must have been a favourite, though she had torn him apart in moments.
¡°Ladies and gentlemen!¡± A magical voice echoed through the stadium. ¡°The first bout is over, the winner ¨C by natural decision ¨C is ¡®the Silken Smile¡¯! Please collect your winnings while the next match is prepared, and don¡¯t forget to pick up some refreshments while you¡¯re up!¡±
¡°She¡¯s good,¡± Ash awed.
¡°She¡¯s too exuberant. She¡¯d never last in a slug out,¡± Amell smiled.
¡°Exuberant?¡±
¡°Flashy.¡±
¡°Oh. What should she do instead?¡±
¡°Plan her moves ahead of time. Everything she did was reactive, good reactions are important but you shouldn¡¯t be in a position where you have to rely on them. She should have angled herself with the sun to her back and kept some distance until she was ready to strike.¡±
¡°But she won, right? Why does it matter?¡±
¡°Because you¡¯re going to beat her, it helps to know her flaws.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t beat her!¡±
¡°Course¡¯ you can. Now, come on. Let¡¯s sign up.¡±
They followed the last of the crowd up to a long tent booth. Two women, one a dwargon and one a green-skinned human, sat behind a little wooden table. They drew two clipboards and handed them over with an utter sheen of bored disgust.
Amell got to work quickly, he scribed some strange runes and numerals across the paper while Ash just stood there dumbfounded. She desperately tried to parse some of the page, even going so far as to read some of the letters aloud ¨C if under her breath. It was of no use. Not only did the symbols hold no meaning for her, they even seemed to dance across the page as she tried to focus on them.
¡°Ash?¡± Amell whispered. She caught his confused gaze as he finally seemed to notice her quiet struggle. ¡°Are you okay?¡±
¡°I, erm,¡± Ash stuttered. A flood of red found her cheeks and she struggled to admit what had been typical back home. ¡°I can¡¯t...¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Amell smiled warmly as the realisation hit him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I just assumed because of Evara... Here, I¡¯ll do it for you.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ash half whispered as she handed him the paper.
¡°Nothing to be sorry for. Right, first off; name?¡±
¡°A-Ashtik?¡±
¡°Yeah, I know that,¡± he laughed, ¡°but any middle names or maiden names?¡±
¡°Oh, yeah. Ashtik Sai-Weleg.¡±
¡°Right, age?¡±
¡°Nineteen.¡±
¡°Nine-and-ten. Gods, I forget how young you are. Next, do you agree to battle till the first blood only? Any additional damage may be subject to legal recourse.¡±
¡°What does that mean?¡±
¡°Stab em¡¯ till they bleed, then stop,¡± he chuckled.
¡°Okay.¡±
¡°Right,¡± Amell cleared his throat in some attempt to avoid the awkwardness of her overly curt answers. ¡°Equipment request? A spear, dirk and light armour. Right?¡±
¡°Yeah.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll just sort the rest out then. That should be all good.¡±
¡°Oh. Thank you, Amell,¡± Ash meekly smiled.
¡°Colin,¡± he corrected with a sly wink. The two turned back to the slumped-over women and Amell handed over the forms with a beaming smile.
¡°Right,¡± the dwargon woman grunted. ¡°Tourney titles?¡±
¡°Hmm, I hadn¡¯t thought of one,¡± Amell said. He turned to Ash with a face that begged for help.
¡°The blue-knight?¡± Ash suggested.
¡°Suitably humble, I like it. And the lady is the Sparrow-Knight,¡± Amell bowed.
¡°Sparreh¡¯ ey?¡± The human woman repeated. ¡°I eard¡¯ that name before. You been in tourneys before?¡±
¡°I- no,¡± Ash replied.
¡°Swear I eard¡¯ tale of some Sparreh¡¯ knight over in¡¯t west,¡± the woman insisted.
¡°Aye, yer¡¯ right inall¡¯. Those lads from Duke¡¯s crossing said there were meant to be some Champion called the Sparreh¡¯,¡± the shorter dwargon woman agreed. ¡°Tha¡¯ meant be you, darlin¡¯?¡±
Ash didn¡¯t know if she was supposed to tell them or not, or if they would even believe her. She had just fled her homeland at risk of death over the secret, now she was considering using her title in a renowned tournament. She faced Amell with the question in her eyes, it was as though she hoped he would have some wiser answer to offer them. He just smiled and said, ¡°She¡¯s a Champion, alright. Champion of the feast, nobody can out drink the wee lass.¡±
¡°Oh aye,¡± the human woman scoffed.
¡°For truth!¡± Amell said in a falsely posh Kovayeshi voice. ¡°The lady is unrivalled in the revels. You ought to bow before her divine skullduggery.¡±
¡°Mhmm, so tha¡¯s the ¡®Sparreh Knight¡¯ and the ¡®Kovayeshi Clown¡¯. Yer permitted one piece of personal equipment ¨C most choose a weapon ¨C but otherwise, yer¡¯ gear¡¯s over there and yer start in ten,¡± the human droned on.
Ten passed in one and her battle commenced. It was not so agonising as she had expected. Half a dozen separate matches occurred at the same time so the crowd was far from invested in watching her of all people. While she walked up to her battle circle, so did Amell off at the other end of the stadium. It seemed he had been matched against some swordsman who couldn¡¯t have been any older than Ash. Though he was fairly well built for his age, he was so transparently outmatched by Amell in his thick plate armour.
Ash¡¯s opponent stepped up to the starting line. A man, two meters tall and about half as broad. He cast her in shadow as he took up his position but he did not try to menace her. In fact, he smiled and bowed before her. Ash returned the gesture, though somewhat more awkwardly.
¡°May your blade sharpen in defeat, that it might cut in your next battle,¡± the man smiled as he sealed his face away behind his great helm.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.For once, Ash had a helmet of her own, though it fit more like a mask than a true helm. She wrapped her braids within and slipped it over her face.
¡°Contestants!¡± The magic voice boomed. ¡°Draw your blades!¡±
Ash drew her borrowed spear from her back and took up a fighting stance. He hefted a blade near as tall as she over his shoulder as he took a slow step backwards.
¡°Begin!¡±
She wasted no time. The goal was not victory, but blood. All she needed to do was cut him. She feigned a thrust but swirled the spear around. It clipped the side of his helm, rattling him and sending him reeling for an instant. She took the chance to tear her spear back and thrust it properly this time. She aimed for the slits in his helm, hoping to at least catch his cheek.
The great warrior roused himself and ducked to the side of her strike, though he was too late. The spear caught a groove in the steel of his helm and sent it flying from his head. He was still in the fight, though. He managed to wrap his hand around the spear and yank it from Ash¡¯s grasp.
His blade tore through the air three, four, five times. Each strike bore his full strength, and his full wrath. Ash just kept backing away though she was quickly running out of space to retreat into. If she left the bounds of her battle space, it would mean defeat.
The beast slashed and then threw out a wild left punch towards her. She just barely managed to get her own left hand to it and parry it away, which was when she remembered her one advantage. The gauntlet.
In a split second, her eyes danced over the clawed knuckles of her black steel hand as it cruised past his punch. By instinct, more so than strategy, she twisted her hand just enough to catch his arm with the piercing end of her claw.
A drop of blood came with the torn flesh at his arm, and it marked an easy victory.
She stepped away and lowered her hands, but the beast did not. His rage had grown with each missed strike and now he saw an opening. He tore forwards, his blade pointed at her belly until a small sting broke his focus and sense caught up to him. She saw his gaze jolt from her blooded gauntlet over to his own arm. His rage dissipated in an instant, and a gracious smile comforted his defeat.
¡°A dirty trick, well played,¡± he darkly chuckled.
¡°Fighters!¡± The voice immediately announced. ¡°In this round, we have three victors! The Kovayeshi clown!¡± The crowd roared at the name. Clearly, his battle had been an entertaining one. ¡°The Soft Specter!¡± The announcer continued, and again the crowd erupted again. A young man raised his hand in victory and shone a cocky smile to his slain opponent. ¡°And... Huh? The- err... Sparrow-Knight! By sheer technicality.¡±
It wasn¡¯t as much a cheer, as it was confusion. It seemed the entire arena had bet against her and was utterly baffled as to how they could have lost their money. She awkwardly nodded to her fallen foe as he walked away with his head held low.
¡°And... now for the next contestants!¡±
It was a dwargon man at Ash¡¯s feet this time. He equipped a strange crossbow and readied it with a bolt.
¡°Dumb luck won¡¯t save you this time, girlie,¡± the dwargon cackled. Then the fight came, and all the bolts in the world couldn¡¯t save him from a broken nose.
¡°The round is... over? The Sparrow-Knight survives yet again!¡±
To call it tense would be inappropriate. Nobody seemed angry at her victory, but not a noise was made and neither jeer nor cheer called out. It must have been sincere shock, or maybe contemplation. One victory could be luck, or a dirty trick, but to win a second round in such an easy way had to mean something...
¡°And a natural victory for the Kovayeshi clown! A mighty showing for a mighty merrymaker!¡±
The crowd took a moment to awaken from their stupor, but the sheer power of Amell¡¯s performance managed to breathe new life into them. That life sprouted as raw mania. A torrent of spilt ale and scattered snacks. A thousand-voice chorus singing of the Clown commander, the Kovayeshi killer, the blue behemoth.
The third battle had yet to be completed. He who was named as the ¡®soft spectre¡¯ battled a flame-haired shield sister, though the eventual outcome was fairly obvious. The spectre was more so toying with his foe than battling her. He skimmed and pranced around her like some sort of Renbic ballerina. He was an elegant man, as soft-stepped as his name would suggest but she doubted his fleetfooted stance was from where his moniker was drawn. Instead, it must have come from his gentle face and slender frame. Despite his height and apparent skill, he was no muscle-strapped warrior. He was barely broader than Ash, despite being nearly twice her height. He was also the first man she had ever seen without even a wisp of a beard. Where most men seemed proud of the roughness of their jaw, his skin seemed smoother and shinier than even his fingernails.
He wrapped his shortsword around his foe¡¯s shield and gently slapped her with the flat of the blade. It served no purpose but to enrage her, and he seemed to glow under her wrath. The flame-haired mistress struck her mace down with all her vast might. He simply stepped aside and let the mace shatter the stone stage on which he danced. He stole her chance to strike again by running the dulled edge of his blade across her cheek with a gentle twirl which ended in a terribly exaggerated bow.
¡°And another natural victory for the soft Specter! It seems some strong contenders shall vie for the crown this eve! Whom shall it be, by night¡¯s fall? The hulking beast from the east with his overwhelming power? The gentle strider and his delicate murder? Or... could it possibly be this ashen spear maiden and what can no longer possibly be dismissed as sheer dumb luck? Man and fellow folk, I contend that this competition is only just beginning! But for now, allow your bets to be made while our fighters take their well-deserved breaks!¡±
Amell took the cheers in stride, but he didn¡¯t bask in them. His focus remained on Ash, for some reason. He looked almost worried, though he never lost the grin in his eyes. The ageing man crossed the field of petty war and stood before her with his borrowed helm barely containing his glee.
¡°Good work, Spinny,¡± he beamed.
¡°Spinny?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone spin around that much in a fight,¡± he chuckled. ¡°It was a sight to behold.¡±
¡°Is it a bad thing?¡± Ash grimaced.
¡°Not at all. It''s a uniquely huntress style, meant for dodging massive beasts that are too large to block. Most wouldn¡¯t be able to translate it so well to real combat, but you move so purposefully. Though your footwork does need improvement, and you need to improve your close fight tactics,¡± he explained with an excess of passion. This was not an old and reluctant master imparting his painful knowledge onto a naive and ultimately doomed student. This was the glee of a father who had found a shared interest with his distant child.
¡°Is... that why you brought me here?¡± Ash accused. ¡°So you can train me?¡±
¡°I... I intended on helping you improve your skills. I thought this would be an... interesting way to-¡±
¡°Study me?¡± Ash interrupted.
¡°To see what makes you different,¡± Amell somewhat shamefully corrected.
¡°I thought we were here to have fun,¡± Ash sighed, ¡°get away from everything like that for a while.¡±
She didn¡¯t know why, but she was upset. It actually took some focus not to get angry. He hadn¡¯t cared to spend time with her without an ulterior motive, without the thought of their quest. She couldn¡¯t escape it. Every waking moment spent in service of the supposed apocalypse. Why was it so urgent to everyone? She could look around and see no grand darkness, no great enemy. No dark lord rose from the ashes to bring damnation to the world. Yet every waking second she had spent since getting the damnable mark, had been focused entirely on the quest. This... tourney, was the first distraction she had been allowed; the first time she had really wasted. Yet it was no waste at all. It was Amell¡¯s attempt to better focus her training. It was preparation for some future battle and conquest.
Amell couldn¡¯t have known how she felt, but he did have the wisdom to look ashamed. He took the risk of raising his helm so that their eyes could meet before saying, ¡°You¡¯re right, Ash. I¡¯m sorry. I know you¡¯re under a lot of pressure; I shouldn¡¯t add to it here. Don¡¯t worry about training, just do your best and have fun. I¡¯ll stop appraising you, I promise.¡±
¡°I-¡± Ash tried to say after a while of cold quiet. ¡°I don¡¯t... mind ¡®Spinny¡¯,¡± she finally managed to whisper, though she said it as though it were some great shame. He smiled at what he saw as an olive branch before sealing his helm shut again.
¡°Good, though I fear you have little choice either way,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Now come on, ashen spear maiden, let''s get some drinks.¡±
¡°Is it wise to drink before a fight... Clown commander?¡±
¡°Ha! Always! Keeps you brave and loose,¡± he laughed.
¡°Excuse me, Sparrow was it?¡± A strangely musical voice called from behind Amell. He stepped aside to reveal the Soft Spectre and the woman who had won the earliest bout. Ash recalled her moniker as being the Silken Smile. The two held a striking resemblance, completely identical twins despite their differing genders. She and her pixie-cut auburn hair matched his own shaggy auburn mullet. Both had piercing copper eyes and bore a wide toothy smile. If it wasn¡¯t for the apparent difference in height, Ash might have thought herself as seeing double.
¡°Sure, or Ash,¡± she answered.
¡°A pleasure,¡± the man snickered as though some joke were told.
¡°We go by tourney names here, keeps things from getting personal. After all, it''s all just a game; right?¡± the woman grinned.
¡°Sure,¡± Ash simply answered.
¡°Quite. Now I won¡¯t bother you long, we were just hoping to have something of a word before our little bout,¡± the sister said.
¡°Sure,¡± Ash repeated.
¡°Hmm. Well, tis¡¯ simply that I saw how you won your first bout. Not a victory of class, but sufficient enough. It would be a shame to end our own fight so... anticlimactically. I would beg an agreement. We wouldn¡¯t want others to say victory was won through ill means.¡±
¡°Sure.¡±
¡°Excellent! Then shall we agree that victory is called only via a true strike of the blade?¡± She offered out her left hand and Ash was forced to return the gesture with her gauntlet. The auburn woman made no attempt to hide the fact that she simply wanted to get a better look at the item as they shook hands.
¡°Sure,¡± Ash agreed with a sigh. She stood unmoving for a moment while her opponent gracelessly scoured over the oily black metal at her hand.
¡°I suppose we shall be facing too, clown,¡± the brother smirked up at the older man. ¡°I hope your age shall not deny us a contest.¡±
¡°And I hope your age shall not deny you the wisdom to learn from defeat,¡± Amell politely replied.
¡°You truly believe you can keep up? A lumbering old man like you? I¡¯ve seen younger mountains and faster trees. Though, it certainly would be an impressive sight.¡±
¡°A housefly has seen a pot of flour and boiling kettle. Doesn¡¯t mean it knows the heat of a volcano nor the smell of a fresh crop. Live a little longer, you¡¯ll see more impressive things than I.¡±
The brother didn¡¯t know how to react but kept his sly smile as he and his sister drew away.
¡°See you soon, Toodles,¡± the sister called as she turned her back.
¡°Right,¡± Amell sighed. ¡°By the wrath of gods, I need a drink.¡±
¡°Couldn¡¯t agree more. I¡¯ll buy,¡± Ash chuckled.
¡°Aren¡¯t you going to say ¡®sure¡¯?¡± He smirked.
¡°I really don¡¯t know what that was about,¡± she half cried and half laughed. ¡°I just forgot every other word.¡±
¡°Incredible. Such raw majesty and grace.¡±
A little kiosk stood at the centre of the stadium. A sign might have read ¡®fighters only¡¯ but Ash couldn¡¯t possibly know. What could be seen was a bundle of fifty or more battle-ready killers all vying for a single barman¡¯s attention. A powder keg waiting for a spark, and by the vile glances, such a spark may well have been the filthy Sparrow-Knight.
Amell seemed utterly unaware of the dark looks as he gladly sauntered along towards the bar. Few stood in his way as he politely moved along. The same couldn¡¯t be said for Ash. What tide had parted for the old knight, crashed shut before her.
¡°I¡¯ll just get you something!¡± Amell called over the contemptuous crowd.
The little Champion retreated from the villainous glares and found for herself a quiet little nook at the far end of the grounds. It didn¡¯t take long for Amell to make his way over, two iron tankards in hand. He sat himself down on a stone table while she sat on the floor with her back resting against it.
¡°What is it?¡± Ash asked before taking a swig.
¡°Awful,¡± he chuckled.
She snorted gently before taking a deep swig. It truly was awful, and yet she went straight in for another gulp. It was best described as a pint of shrimp whiskey by taste, but a thick milky creme by texture.
¡°Have you ever had a drink that wasn¡¯t?¡± She asked, looking up at him as he appraised his drink with astonished disappointment.
¡°Everything''s great... when you¡¯ve had enough of them.¡±
¡°Aye, but what about something great at first taste?¡±
¡°Hmm,¡± he scratched his bristles as he considered. ¡°Yes,¡± he finally realised. ¡°My... wife, would make this concoction. Lavender, violet and some other herbs from the garden. The smell alone was worth waging a war for. And that taste! You could drink them like water and never realise you were getting thoroughly pissed.¡± He paused for a while with an ever-weakening smile before he continued on, ¡°But I was too much of a ¡®man¡¯ back then. Good taste is for women, men drink swill and enjoy it! It¡¯s funny how little, things like that come to matter as you age. If I wasn¡¯t so proud, I¡¯d have burnt the recipe to memory. I¡¯d drink it every day.¡±
¡°Your wife... How did she...?¡± Ash quietly asked.
¡°I was... punished, for my ¡®valour¡¯. Too busy conquering the continent to remember that the whole world lay within my home. Some felled foe from some pointless battle saw fit to set my home afire while I slaughtered his countrymen,¡± he mournfully recalled, though he did seem to try and laugh at his failings.
¡°I¡¯m... sorry, Amell. I can¡¯t imagine.¡±
¡°Of course you can,¡± he all too lightly said. ¡°Is that not why you fight? You fear losing young Evara so you rage against the apocalypse. It¡¯s why you¡¯ll hold together the crumbling horizon; so she¡¯ll have ground to stand on.¡±
¡°I guess.¡±
¡°Am I wrong?¡±
¡°Not... entirely. I don¡¯t know. I fight for Ev, that I know at least. But there¡¯s something more, something worse. I think... I enjoy it.¡±
¡°The thrill of conflict? The purpose of destiny?¡±
¡°Hurting people,¡± she shamefully admitted.
¡°Child...¡±
¡°Not... I... There was a boy, in my village. He was a hornblower for the bandits that attacked us. I... tortured him. I smiled. I felt so... confident; so in control. He was an evil man, he hurt my friend and he was going to hurt my sister. He even threatened to rape me for gods¡¯ sake. I... cut his finger off and barely noticed. I had the smith crush his hand, one knuckle at a time. After a while, I stabbed him through the heart and left him in the mud.¡±
¡°You were traumatised. Nobody can blame you for deviled actions against the devils themselves.¡±
¡°And what of the Veytors? I had a direwolf drain a man. His mind, his soul, his organs. Even his bloody bones, and again I didn¡¯t care. I- I''m a huntress, I-I- I know sometimes you need to kill to survive. But those times are almost sacred, certainly filled with regret. Every time I was sloppy and got caught by a wolf, I hated that I had to kill it. Yet I see a man willing to die for his convictions ¨C a priest so sure of my wickedness that he would throw himself on a spear rather than walk away from me ¨C and I kill him in the worst possible way.¡±
¡°They wanted to do you harm, Spinny, you had no choice.¡±
¡°But how long is that excuse going to last? How long before I realise that I¡¯m just a vindictive bitch; that I enjoy hurting people?¡±
Amell didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he drew the dirk from her holster and pointed the grip towards her.
¡°Take it,¡± he quietly ordered. She obeyed with a resigned sigh, gripping the pommel tightly. He, in a flash, pulled her hand closer to him so that the blade slashed across his exposed palm. A spurt of hot blood gushed over her hand and stained her blade.
¡°Amell! I¡¯m so sorry! Are you okay? What was that?¡±
¡°Did you enjoy that?¡± He asked with a sly smile.
¡°Of course not! Show me your hand, we need to bandage you up,¡± she nearly shouted. She tore a strip of cloth from the skirt of her armour and wrapped it around his hand frantically. ¡°Stupid old man,¡± she grumbled.
¡°Then,¡± he winced, ¡°you don¡¯t enjoy causing pain. Simple as that.¡± He wrapped his unharmed hand around both of hers and brought a stop to her panicked tending. ¡°Look at me.¡±
She did. His big blue eyes tore through hers and, where she had expected pain or even shame, she saw two jewels of absolute beaming pride. ¡°You have been through more in the past few weeks than most go through in a lifetime. You went from an idyllic and a ¨C quite frankly ¨C sheltered life to being steeped in godly dread and bloody death. I don¡¯t think even you understand how hard it''s been on you. How many times have you felt alone in this? How many times have you had to act without Evara, to protect her or to allow her some... ease? Ashtik, the forgotten Goden speaks in your head; a feat even the greatest of gods cannot claim. It is beyond a miracle that you have not been driven utterly mad.¡±
¡°But if I do turn out mad? Amell, I¡¯ve had dreams where I''m an empress. More than dreams. I can¡¯t do that if I¡¯m some... monster.¡±
¡°I will be at your side,¡± he promised. ¡°As will Evara. All the way. Trust in her as your moral guide, if you do not trust in yourself.¡±
¡°So that¡¯s it? I turn into an evil queen while Ev begs me to stop or you put a knife in my heart?¡±
¡°I would never. Your fate is my own, no matter how dark. But destiny is not so simple as good and evil. You are not on a path to become some dark sovereign. You are on the path to becoming Ashtik Sai-Weleg, and only you get to decide what that means. So try; try to be kind, try to be gentle or try to be brilliant. You will fail, time and time again, but so long as you keep trying; you will never be truly evil.¡±
¡°And when I enact some more ¡®righteous¡¯ murder? When the people claim me to be a hero for my villainy?¡±
¡°Then feel bad. Regret. Sometimes the difference between what is necessary and what is cruel is as simple as regret. Make yourself regret that your hand was forced to do such evil. That regret will drive you to improve, to ensure that you needn¡¯t make the same terrible action ever again. When some new action comes, equally as terrible, and you are forced to partake; regret it. That is all I can offer you, child, I''m sorry.¡±
¡°How can I regret killing killers? Am I supposed to mourn murderers?¡±
¡°Cherish life, Ash. It can be beautiful and it can come from terrible places. A terrible killer can be a father to the most... wonderful little son. Every life has some worth, not just the kind ones.¡±
¡°Fighters!¡± The magical voice interrupted. ¡°Take your stands!¡±
Chapter Seventeen: Courage.
Two foes, hating each other for nought more than sport, toed the battle lines. Amethyst eyes never cared to meet the copper of her enemy but from across the two meters, and the lifetime of experiences, that stood between them; they awaited as one, for the final battle cry.
Her plan began before the fighting had even commenced. This woman, the Silken Smile, was a duellist by her very nature. Her face; unreadable. Her form; impeccable. She stood both rigid and loose. Both at ease and coiled to pounce.
Her borrowed blade seemed a little bulkier than she was used to, yet she wielded it expertly. It was a dainty little thing, with a spiralling cupped hilt and a slightly curved grip. A tool meant for flourishing and stabbing, with very little power to its slash and cut.
It seemed foolish, a sword meant for the thrust would never work against the significantly longer spear Ash carried. Though Ash couldn¡¯t help but notice that her foe seemed utterly disinterested in her spear, while utterly enraptured by her gauntlet.
¡°Warriors!¡± The magical voice boomed over the vast crowds. ¡°Begin.¡±
There was no rush, no charge. Both seemed to take the same caution, the same hesitance. This silken woman was not going to go down easily and Ash¡¯s only obvious advantage was her superior range. Charging in would nullify that in an instant.
The Sparrow-Knight brought her spear high, the back of the shaft coming past her head while the tip pointed low and forth. It was a spear-fishing stance, meant for precision, small movements and quick thrusts.
Ash took the first tentative step. She coiled low to the ground and held her weight on her front foot as she approached. It was only as she drew near that the Smile finally moved. First, she took a deep and flourishing bow, before she sprang into action.
She dashed towards Ash with an impossible grace, both feet nearly lifting entirely from the ground. Her blade spiralled, its point circling as it tore towards Ash¡¯s throat. Ash moved to parry the blow but, in a flash, the Smile¡¯s boot rounded against the spear. Ash barely managed to keep it in hand, but she was forced to drop it as the blade inched towards her face. The spear fell to her left while Ash dove to the right, but it was almost too late. The blade clipped against her leather mask and took a chunk to remember her by.
Ashtik rolled backwards and sprung up to her feet. She coiled on her right foot as she drew it behind her and held her gauntleted left hand out towards her foe.
The Smile grew teeth as she twirled back and slashed her blade out again. Ash dodged back and then to the side. Once or twice, she even managed to swat the blade away with her steel-skinned hand, though it felt all too risky each time.
A voice in her mind criticized her opponent. It was Amell, he mocked her extravagant movements and excessive flourishes. He teased her for twirling and spinning in a manner more fit for a late-night dancer than a killer. She took a deep breath and formed a plan of attack.
The Smile stood in the way of her spear, and would likely hold the angle for as long as she could. Luckily, it fell to the southeast while the sun shone from the west. Ash rolled on one hand to put the late-day sun to her back in hopes of blinding her foe. It worked well enough. The woman scrunched up her nose from beneath her open-faced helm as she squinted the glare away.
¡°Feel free to yield. It would be a shame to ruin such a pretty face,¡± the Smile taunted.
¡°Funny. I was just about to say the exact same thing,¡± Ash replied.
¡°Oh, so you can say more than one word.¡±
¡°Sure,¡± Ash mocked. ¡°Come on, get on with it. Lest you¡¯re too scared of an unarmed woman?¡±
¡°Scared? Never,¡± the Smile scoffed. ¡°I would simply rather not waste the energy required of beating you.¡±
¡°And here I thought bullshit bravado was a male affliction. You should just stick to looking pretty; you haven¡¯t the gall for violence.¡±
¡°Awfully bold for the little girl who was too scared to so much as speak earlier.¡±
¡°Nah, I just didn¡¯t want to confuse you. I know you ditsy gingers tend to struggle with big words.¡±
¡°Ditsy ginger? Do I look like a ginger?¡±
¡°I mean, bitch you ain¡¯t a purple. Now hit me or kiss me, just shut the fuck up.¡±
¡°Very well, pigeon. Have at it,¡± the Smile snarled as she struck. The bait was easier than she had expected. Ash twisted on her right heel and pushed away the thrusting blade with her left hand while her right sought a grip on the Smile¡¯s finely armoured chest. Once she secured a hold, she pushed herself into her enemy, and her enemy into her. She wrapped her left hand around the flailing blade and sundered it from the Smile¡¯s grasp.
The two women tumbled to the ground in a grasping, striking bundle of breathy curses and blatant attempts at biting. The objective remained the same as before, draw blood. Ash realised that her foe had something of an advantage in that regard. Her clawlike nails struck out for Ash¡¯s face, but when she couldn¡¯t get her hands around Ash¡¯s mask, she tried instead to tear away at Ash¡¯s armour. First, she struggled against the straps of her vambrace but Ash denied her any chance to tear it off.
The white-haired huntress managed to roll atop the auburn fencer. In a contest of strength, there was no contest at all. Ash pinned the woman¡¯s left hand down beneath her outstretched boot and her right beneath her knee.
¡°Yield?¡± Ash offered. ¡°Or do I get to cut that pretty face? I mean, ¡®have to¡¯ cut that pretty face.¡±
¡°Fuck you,¡± the Smile spat.
Ash pulled back her right hand and cocked it for a punch. ¡°Just yield,¡± she whispered.
¡°Not going to use your gauntlet?¡± The Smile asked with a strangely unreadable expression. She struggled beneath Ash and nearly managed to roll her off until Ash wrapped her left hand around her throat and held her still. The warm metal dug into her soft flesh and left each of her breaths laboured and difficult.
¡°Just yield,¡± Ash repeated with an almost compassionate tone.
¡°No,¡± she grinned. ¡°Make me bleed, Champion.¡±
¡°Champion?¡± Ash gasped. That she knew, and that she hid so, was a more powerful blow than any she had suffered since the fight had begun. The strange shock of it threw her balance, and the Smile seized her chance to escape. She brought her boot to Ash¡¯s chest and pushed her away with all the might she could muster before dashing away to the nearest weapon. It wasn¡¯t her little toothpick, but Ash¡¯s spear.
Once sense caught her, Ash did the same. She slid away and caught the thin rapier as she went.
The crowd erupted the competition returned to the battlefield. She had all but forgotten they were there, but suddenly became very aware of them now that her Championship was known.
The Smile held her spear like an amateur. Ash was glad no mirror was present to hand her the same accusation. She did her best to mimic the stance that her auburn-haired foe had held. She slid her right foot forward with the matching hand held out and the blade pointed high.
The Smile held her spear by her hip, her left hand used for leverage and her right used for power. Her left was too far forward, it denied her the range advantage, while her right was too rigid. She would have no way to properly manipulate the tip as they fought.
Ash shone a cheeky grin from beneath her mask and called out, ¡°Wanna swap?¡±
¡°By all means, you first,¡± the Smile grinned back.
¡°Ladies first.¡±
¡°What would that make you?¡±
¡°A rough northern lass. No elegant lady.¡±
The Smile let a far from lady-like cackle escape her, but quickly masked it with a cough. She looked at Ash again with a veiled smirk. ¡°Well, lassie,¡± she called in a false vaguely Maester Veil-ish accent, ¡°Toss out the blade, and I¡¯ll toss out your spear.¡±
¡°Toss the spear? You¡¯ll probably aim for my head,¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°How dare you,¡± she gasped, feigning indignation. ¡°I was going to aim for your heart!¡±
¡°How about you stick it in the ground, and I¡¯ll do the same thing?¡± Ash offered.
¡°Sure,¡± the Smile snorted in the same way Ash had.
Ash made the first offer. She plunged the tip of the blade just barely into the seam between stone floor tiles before releasing the blade.
¡°What could be stopping me from rushing at you now?¡± The Smile asked.
¡°You wanna know who¡¯d win in a fair fight. You wanna be able to claim you beat a Champion.¡±
She clearly considered for a moment. Her gaze fixed to Ash¡¯s gauntlet as her face slowly filled with the lust for glory. Her smirk grew all the greater and she plunged the spear deep into the seams. It sank much deeper than Ash¡¯s sword, so deeply in fact that it might take a severe effort to pull it free. An effort that would take a small framed woman, like the Smile, much too long. Possibly long enough to cross the distance with a blade in hand.
Ash bowed her head as she said, ¡°You¡¯re here for a fair fight. It seems I was right in saying you lack the gall for combat.¡±
Ash tore the blade from the ground with such speed that the tip snapped and shattered into a jagged edge. She ran with the swiftness of the torai, and the raging charge of the rhino. She stormed, her blade coiled, like an army of one towards the Smile as she tried in vain to free the spear.
A single, all too gentle, slash brought an end to the battle. A bead of delicate blood rolled over her sharp cheekbone and stained over the pink of her blusher.
¡°Fuck,¡± the Smile grunted. ¡°Fuck!¡± She rushed around to lay eyes on the victor of the bout. Pure, undiluted wrath filled her cheeks and quivering lips. ¡°What the fuck was that?¡±
¡°You wanted a fair fight,¡± Ash said meekly. ¡°I wanted to win.¡±
The confidence of battle-blood drained away as the crowd unsettled and began to roar. The warrior who had bantered with her foe so effortlessly fell back into the darkness, while Ashtik stood under the beaming magical arena lights.
¡°You¡¯re no fucking Champion,¡± the Smile, if she could still claim the name under such a sour expression, spat out at Ash. ¡°Didn¡¯t even have the grace to use your God-power. Am I truly so pathetic in your eyes?¡±
¡°My what?¡±
¡°Fuck you,¡± the Smile repeated with raw bile oozing from her tongue. She granted Ash no further notice, and made away for the fighter''s section.
¡°Wait!¡± Ash called out. She did, if for a brief moment, though she didn¡¯t turn to face Ash. ¡°How did you know I was a Champion?¡±
The Smile turned back to Ash with pure hatred in her eyes. She tore a hole in the tan leather of her thigh pad and revealed what lay beneath.
An olive tree sprouted across the surface of her skin as a pair of lovers held cups beneath flowing streams of purple wine. It moved and animated across her skin in the same impossible way Ash¡¯s own little sparrow did.
¡°You¡¯re a Champion?¡± Ash realised.
¡°Fuck you,¡± she simply spat again.
And then she was gone, and Ash was left to the ravages of the endless crowd. It seemed they were as displeased with her as the Smile had been.
¡°The winner, by... ¡®natural¡¯ victory, is the Sparrow-Knight!¡± The magic voice finally declared with all too little enthusiasm.
The crowd erupted in boos and jeers yet again as Ash made her way down from the stone stage. She found Amell surrounded by aspiring blade masters as he seemed to be giving them each tips and advice for their upcoming bouts. They all seemed earnestly and utterly wrapped up in his wisdom, and hung on every last word he graced to impart upon them.
¡°... And so, you do not swing, but slash! Unless you¡¯re facing me, then you run,¡± he finished. The lads, some no older than sixteen, all broke out into applause while some politely chuckled at some unheard jest. He turned from his adoring followers and just caught sight of Ash as she neared with her head held low.
¡°Spinny!¡± He bellowed. ¡°Oh, ah. Excuse me, gents. Best of luck!¡±
The lumbering giant squoze through the encircling listeners and caught up to Ash. ¡°A brilliant fight!¡± He beamed.
¡°Tell that to the crowd,¡± Ash grumbled.
¡°A BRILLIANT FIGHT!¡± He shouted out to the roaring spectators. Naturally, none paid him any mind as the next bout had already begun, but it made Ash chuckle a little. ¡°But earnestly, you were brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. A warrior, not a tourneyman. You battled in the mind and won, that is a nobler victory than any bloody slugfest.¡±
¡°Thanks, Amell,¡± Ash said, though she wasn¡¯t sure she believed him.
¡°Now look, your next fight is coming. What¡¯s your plan?¡± He encouraged.
¡°My plan?¡± Ash snorted. ¡°I¡¯m out of my depth here, Amell. I¡¯m probably going to forfeit next round.¡±
¡°Absolutely not,¡± Amell declared. He drew his sword and held it in an offensive stance as he kicked a spare spear over to her. ¡°Losing is one thing, but to give up? Nonsense!¡±
¡°It''s not that big of a deal,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just a little tourney.¡±
¡°No. It¡¯s you giving up because you don¡¯t think you¡¯re good enough."
¡°I¡¯m not.¡±
¡°You¡¯re in the semi-finals.¡±
¡°Because I used dirty tricks and basically cheated. Not because I¡¯m better.¡±
¡°Victory means you are better, the route to victory is irrelevant. You think every war is won by men in honourable combat? No! They¡¯re won through cunning and trickery. By fighting the enemy where there is no enemy. By breaking the enemy without ever shedding blood. These people are fighting to overcome, you are simply winning. Keep that up. Win the battle first, then start the fight.¡±
¡°That sounds very deep,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°But what am I actually supposed to do?¡±
Amell swivelled his head around until he found a well-built man wading through the crowd. ¡°Him there, do you see?¡± He pointed to him.
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°Describe him.¡±
¡°He¡¯s tall, well built. His armour has a sigil, so he must be a nobleman. No sleeves, either trying to show off his arms or hails from somewhere too hot for full armour. Ebony skin, so he¡¯s probably eastern. He¡¯s got his hair in long jata and a fair few scars across his face and body. I¡¯d guess he¡¯s a second son to some desert lord, looking for glory in battle,¡± Ash summarised.
¡°That¡¯s good, but look closer. His right arm, a slashing scar across his elbow. He¡¯ll be weak on that side. His hair is long and easy to get a hold of during a grapple and he isn¡¯t acclimated to such a humid nation so his stamina will suffer. Your style of avoidance and distance keeping will serve you well against him, so long as you can keep the pressure on his right side,¡± Amell reviewed. He looked away from Ash again as he scoured the crowd for another appropriate target. He finally found one after another moment or so.
¡°That¡¯s my next foe. Describe him,¡± he smirked.
¡°He¡¯s... large,¡± Ash realised. ¡°Maybe as large as you.¡±
¡°A clash of the titans. I expect the event organisers to be quite pleased with this match-up. But he is in fact, larger than I.¡±
¡°Not by height, but he¡¯s certainly more muscular. No offence,¡± Ash awkwardly chuckled.
¡°Not at all, now go ahead. Review him,¡± he smiled.
¡°As I said, he¡¯s strong. I¡¯ve seen bulls with less rippling muscle. He¡¯s going to hit hard, and he¡¯s using a blunt weapon. Looks like some kind of mace?¡±
¡°A Morningstar,¡± he explained.
¡°Right. That¡¯ll shatter your armour, so you¡¯ll have to be quick with your dodges. Your sword is longer, though. Maybe you should keep some distance and hope for some careful cuts. Oh, he isn¡¯t wearing a helmet! Whenever I cut my forehead, I bleed enough to serve a vampris birthday party. Slash his forehead and you win, right?¡± Ash reviewed. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
¡°That rule no longer applies, I''m afraid. It¡¯s no longer first blood, but first to yield. It seems folk weren¡¯t too pleased with your utilisation of the rules,¡± he chuckled with a strange pride.
¡°Okay, but the blood should still blind him. It¡¯ll give you a chance to get in close,¡± Ash finished.
¡°That¡¯s really good,¡± Amell said. ¡°Everything you said was right, but you missed one thing.¡±
She looked the warrior over again. The veins in his arms seemed as though they were battling to burst. Like a splinter would spring a gushing leak, a fountain of unceasing blood. He was a man of raw meat and muscle, but she couldn¡¯t see any great flaw like Amell apparently could.
¡°His muscle, which you believe to be his great advantage, is actually what will lose him this fight.¡±
¡°How so?¡±
¡°Muscles like those are earned one way, and one way only; by picking heavy things up and putting them back down again. They are muscles of show, not muscles of work and war. He will hit hard, but very slowly and his heart will have to work triple time to keep enough blood flowing. His stamina will last three strikes before he is left panting and sweating on the floor.¡±
¡°Three strikes? That¡¯s all?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll make it a bet, three strikes before he¡¯s panting and heaving. Five before I win.¡±
¡°Deal. Loser buys the drinks.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± Amell said with a cruelly cocky smirk. He looked out to his future foe for a moment before he noticed Ash hadn¡¯t looked away from him. He matched her gaze and half expected her to wilt away as their eyes met, but she looked to gain confidence as they joined.
¡°What?¡± He uncomfortably chuckled.
¡°I¡¯m... describing you,¡± Ash said as she seemingly scanned over each crease and wrinkle on his face.
¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got to hear this,¡± he beamed.
¡°You¡¯re grey, and old. Like a wolf, the older they are; the stronger their bite, but the quicker they tire. I¡¯d offer you a battle of at- atrac- ato-... What¡¯s the word?¡±
¡°Attrition?¡± He offered.
¡°Aye!¡± She smirked. ¡°I¡¯d keep far away and jab at the joints in your armour. Eventually, either they¡¯d buckle and trap the limb, or you¡¯d buckle and give in.¡±
¡°Ha! Well, let us see. Make it to the finale, and we can test your theory.¡±
It looked like the old man had something else to say, but he lost the chance when the announcement rang out, ¡°And a yielded victory for the Matarn Matron! Next up, the fight of the night! The titanic panic! The... Fucking big one! Ladies and gentlemen, my personal sweetheart ¨C and the man I wish to marry my daughter off to ¨C The Kovayeshi Commander!¡±
¡°Not a clown anymore?¡± Ash teased.
¡°No, I miss it,¡± he chuckled.
He gave her a final nod as he climbed the metal stairs up to the great stone stage. He was not so graceful as to hide his thorough enjoyment of the limelight. He basked in the adoration, his face cracking smile beamed through his shadowed helm as he held his arms high and slowly strolled to his starting line.
¡°And, not to discount, our very own beastly bull! The Forgeland fighter! The vascular vandal! Ladies and gents, please give it up for; THE MAKO!¡±
The crowd was in ecstasy. The promise of the colliding mountains brought an orgasmic frenzy upon them all. Waves of drooling drunkards singing songs of beautiful battle. Half called for Amell; the others raved for his blood. All were in agreement; it was going to be the true finale, regardless of whoever either victor had to fight in the final round.
Amell drew his steel and planted it in the stone as a salute to his foe. The other man returned the respect by bowing his head as he pounded his steel-clad chest.
¡°Fighters, warriors, heroes...! Begin!¡±
The Mako charged headlong. He granted Amell no affection as he swung his spiked twohanded mace. He bore it with both hands and swung with his whole body in a strike so powerful it shattered the winds ahead of it. An actual shockwave rippled through the stadium as he lashed out.
All it took was a slight backstep, and the attack was null. It floated lazily past Amell¡¯s head and ended up taking the warrior full circle with its momentum. Amell could have ended it there - with the Mako¡¯s back turned - but for some reason, he allowed the Mako another strike.
She realised quickly why he hadn¡¯t ended it. The bet. If he won after one strike, there would be no way to prove he was right.
The Mako struck out again, this time heaving the massive Morningstar overhead and crashing it down on Amell. The old man simply placed the edge of his blade to the handle of the mace and let it ride down its length.
The cracking of stone rang through the whole stadium as the mace landed and shattered a massive section. Enough dust and debris flooded the stage to completely cover the two men¡¯s feet. It might have covered up to anyone else¡¯s shins, but this was not so petty a calibre of man.
Amell said something then, but he was too far out to hear. No doubt it was something more cutting than his blade¡¯s edge, by the reaction of his foe. A part of Ash hoped he would swing a surprise strike and clip Amell¡¯s helm, that she might be the victor in their little bet at the least.
The Mako did strike, but it was neither so sudden nor so subtle as she had quietly hoped for. It flew for Amell¡¯s ankle, but the old man just did a strangely little hop. It was the most agile she had ever seen him, though the act clearly stripped him of some tier of pride. She could even see the dust around him unsettle a little too frantically. He must have been panting. So much effort in one little jump.
¡°Finish him, Colin!¡± Ash cheered, making sure to use his false identity.
The Mako stood tall as he could, while Amell seemed to slouch a little. He wasn¡¯t coiled, but hunched. He was an older man, Ash wondered if his age could have caught him by surprise.
Mako moved forward, heaving his chest as he hefted his mace. Any doubts about Amell¡¯s condition were put to rest in the instant between the Mako¡¯s swing, and the Mako falling to the ground.
It was almost too fast to see, but Ash just about caught it. Amell had gripped the blade of his sword and shattered the pommel against Mako¡¯s forehead. A torrent of blood gushed out in an instant and the warrior collapsed down like a demolished building.
Amell kicked the mace away, but Mako still reached out for it. She realised he couldn¡¯t see, that the blood had blinded him exactly as Ash had said. He rolled away, not really even knowing where he was in the ring. Eventually, he managed to rise to his feet while Amell stood and watched on from a few paces away.
She could see Amell whistle a tune, but she couldn¡¯t quite hear it over the crowd. It drew Mako¡¯s attention and he charged again, hoping to land a tackle against Amell.
¡°Cease the combat!¡± The magical voice ordered. ¡°And a shocking victory by disqualification for... The Kovayeshi Commander!¡±
Mako tried to look around through the sheen of blood. Eventually, Amell offered his fallen foe a cloth with which he wiped away the blood and realised that Amell had stepped out of his way and allowed him to charge directly out of the combat area.
The crowds roared his name. The stadium shook for his victory and trembled beneath his might. It was a day of legend-making. A day of tale-telling. A day all in attendance would remember... at least until the morrow¡¯s hangover disabused them of the night¡¯s affairs.
The victor took his proud promenade back to his young companion. The smugness in his saunter, the wink that shone through his helm, the cocky wave as he drew near. She knew he was about to be utterly insufferable, yet she couldn¡¯t help but grin as he took his exaggerated steps down the stage with his arms flailing at his side with each swaying movement.
¡°Your armour, let me help you,¡± Ash offered. He seemed confused but she ignored him. She tousled with some strap at his back and made it seem like she was tightening it.
¡°I believe I counted three strikes,¡± he grinned as he slid his helm into his hands.
¡°I didn¡¯t see him panting,¡± Ash protested.
¡°I was too excited to try out your tip. I suppose I forgot to give him a chance to show his weary ways. Yet the bet is still mine!¡±
She had some protest in mind. An undeniable argument, sure to see him off in shame, but alas it was not to be. As her lips parted to offer the remark, the voice that rang out wasn¡¯t her own; but that of the magical announcer.
¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± it called out in a much more sombre voice than seemed typical. ¡°Due to an undisclosed violation in the rules, under article twelve ¨C section eight: No enchanted or otherwise magically enhanced equipment may be brought into battle. Including; weapons, armour, accessories, etc. For this violation, the Desert Prince is no longer permitted to take part in our competition. We apologise for this regrettable...¡±
The Desert Prince. It must have been the warrior that Ash had been matched up against. She had no idea what part of him could have been magically enchanted, and she didn¡¯t understand why such a well-made warrior would need to cheat in the first place. Then her eyes drifted to her gauntlet, and a sense of irony overtook her. She stroked a finger along the claw that had won her first round, and the surface scuffs from where she had swatted away the Smile¡¯s blade.
¡°Well,¡± Amell awkwardly laughed. He certainly noticed her fidgeting with steel hand but made no mention of it. Instead, he scratched the back of his head and said, ¡°I guess it''s just you and me then.¡±
¡°Is it?¡±
¡°Aye, the finale. Best of luck Spinny. May the best man win... or, you know.¡±
It was not fun. It was not a game. It was her first mountain; it was a chance to prove herself beyond a shadow of a doubt. If she could beat him, she could beat anyone. All she had done, all the scraps and battles won, prepared her for this.
Amell had been right earlier; Ash fought in the mind and only when she had deceived some advantage would she do battle.
The old knight took up an aggressor''s stance. He remembered what she had said ¨C that a battle of attrition would be her victory ¨C so he would deny her the opportunity. He would charge, he would expect to catch her off guard, and he would fail.
¡°Fighters!¡± The announcer called for the last time. Ash fell to one knee, as though to fasten her boot. ¡°Begin!¡±
Amell charged while Ash yet knelt. He barrelled closer, his blade shimmered in the dusklight and the whole world fell silent.
She focused on every breath as it unsettled the thick layer of dust beneath her. She listened to every step as it echoed through the lonely hordes. Her left hand brushed against the ground. It was so sensitive. She could feel every vibration, every disturbance. She could feel the chainmail rattle beneath his plate armour. The little chunks of stone scatter and roll across the surface as he kicked them up.
She took some in hand ¨C a pile of dust and stones ¨C and readied to strike. All she needed was for Amell to take one... more... step.
She sprung out; her spear thrust low. So low it hit the ground instead of him. He had to drag his foot back mid-step to avoid the spear plunging into it. It took him off balance, and she took the chance to jump atop of him and smash the dust into the air holes of his great helm.
He spluttered and coughed until he managed to get a grip of Ash. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and threw her away with the same effort it would take to toss a baby kitten rather than a grown woman.
He tore off his helmet and spat out the dust and rocks. Ash wasn¡¯t so kind as to let him catch his breath. She pounced again while he was still keeled over and gasping for air. She couldn¡¯t make any use of her spear in such close quarters, so she drew the dirk from her boot and tried to draw some cuts. Amell managed to get his hand to her wrist and stopped the attack, though she persisted with her free arm and even her boots.
¡°What happened to attrition?¡± He laughed through the flurry of punches.
¡°I lied,¡± Ash grunted. ¡°Your biggest weakness isn¡¯t your age. It¡¯s that you trusted me.¡±
Ash kicked her boot down hard into a strap at his back. The same strap she had severely loosened after his last fight. It came completely open and with it, came the entire back of his cuiras.
¡°You sneaky...¡± He used the hand he had kept a hold of to throw her again, this time with the intent of sending her out of bounds. She managed to drag her spear along the ground and catch herself just short of the line.
¡°Now... I keep my distance,¡± she smirked.
¡°You did that right after my fight?¡± Amell realised. He tried to reach over his shoulder to feel the missing armour piece. Ash didn¡¯t reply, but her vicious grin should have been confirmation enough.
¡°Well, not much use in this then,¡± he groaned gladly as he stripped the rest of his chest plate. It seemed a strange decision. Each fighter had been allowed one personal effect. Ash had her gauntlet, and he had his chest plates. Besides, the front of his armour provided much more protection than the back and was still safely secured. There seemed no reason to shed it.
He stretched out to his full height, having shed what must have been forty kilos of steel by the world-shattering crunch it created as it bricked upon the ground. She hadn¡¯t realised how well-built he truly was without his armour or his cloak to hide himself.
Where his breastplate had been round and thick, he was shockingly slim and harsh-edged. For a man undoubtedly as deep into his cups as Amell Fielder, there was no trace of a drinker¡¯s gut. Though he wasn¡¯t so cut and vascular as his last opponent had been, he was certainly much closer than she had realised.
He rotated his shoulder as if he was trying to find the exact position and combination to unlock it. Then he started stretching his legs out as though preparing for a cross-country run.
¡°Shall we?¡± He offered at last.
¡°If you can keep up,¡± she smirked.
He slashed his blade through the open air, then he brought it to a high guard and started slowly moving towards her.
Once in range, she thrust out at his chest but diverted the strike as his blade came careening through the air in an attempt to shatter the spear. He moved at thrice the speed he had in his armour. He slashed again, and Ash ducked beneath by a matter of inches, but he was far from done. He circled the blade around yet again and slashed from high with a strike so fast it cracked the sound barrier, and so strong it pushed a rush of air out ten meters ahead.
¡°You tryna kill me?¡± Ash panted as she just barely sidestepped the slash. His answer came with a decapitating blow which forced her to fall flat on her ass, or risk a little more than a bad haircut.
¡°I¡¯m trying to win,¡± he grunted as he hefted yet another powerful slash at her.
It wasn¡¯t like the other brutish types she had faced. He did not sacrifice speed for power. He struck faster than the Smile had done, and harder than even the bandit giant she had faced all those weeks ago.
He did not lack for grace, nor precision; power, nor ferocity. He would answer each of her petty strikes with a faster, harder counterattack. Every time she dared poke her spear more than arm''s length away, he snapped at it like a beast to meat. He would have enjoyed nothing more than to cut her spear in half, and if he managed; the battle would truly be over.
Her range advantage was marginal ¨C a few inches at most ¨C but it was all she had. He allowed her no time to focus, to plan. Everything she did was done through instinct and reflex. Each parry felt more like luck than talent. Each dodge felt more and more pathetic. Each strike he so effortlessly deflected grew more and more grating.
He did not sweat. He did not pant. He did not falter. The man was a beast of war. A king of combat. A killer, a true Champion. That was why her goden had sent him. Something to aspire to. A hollow man without a family or a cause. A vessel of violence, wrapped in a suit of steel skin; designed more so to contain him than protect. This... slashing, torrenting, horror was her destiny and she could not keep up.
He was everything she had to be; everything she didn¡¯t want to be; everything her goden planned for her. It was not the attacks that drew her ire. It was not the sustained injuries that garnered her wrath. It was the destiny of it all. The fate that permeated everything and everyone around her.
As she bubbled and stewed, she noticed him slow. He did not look tired, but the battle pace became laxer. His strikes did not land as hard. His blows were not so impossible to parry, nor was he so quick to slash her spear away.
In fact, everything seemed to slow. The crowds danced and sang his name in an unnatural tempo. The sweat dripped from her brow as though it were so thick as honey.
Then she noticed the scorches across the stones. The long crackling burns that stretched so far as the stands and all seemed to follow back to her.
The purple and black lightning that sprung forth like wicked, writhing tentacles. Creatures of abscess will, searching out for some invisible dark conduit. One tendril jolted out and shattered like a wave against Amell¡¯s blade. Another seared his cheek as it tore past.
He did not let up. He struck again, though now he did so on his backfoot. She managed to push him further and further back. It felt good to be in control of the battle. To be faster, stronger, than him. She sent her spear at him time and again, but even as quick as she was, he was just a better fighter. His blade always seemed to be in the right place to catch hers, even as he retreated all the way back to his discarded chest plates.
¡°HARDER!¡± He ordered and she gladly obliged. She struck, again and again and again. Eventually, she struck so quickly that the force of her push snapped her spear in half before it could even strike his blade. She spat and threw it away, throwing out a left hook after a right hook.
¡°FASTER!¡± He ordered again. He returned to the offensive now that she was unarmed. It did not matter. She had gone beyond him. The slash seemed to travel at a snail''s pace. She stepped aside and punched clean through the blade. It crumbled like ash. She watched the steel ripple like a wave, her reflection catching at the apex, before it shattered a thousand times like a broken pane of glass.
It was time to finish the fight. One final strike. All of her anger, all of her fear, all of her anxiety, all into her left hand. She saw Evara burning in a forest. She saw her father collapse and seize as the cancer gripped him. She heard the words from her mother, that she didn¡¯t love her. She heard the admittance that she hadn¡¯t dared tell anyone; that she wasn¡¯t the chosen one. That she was just a stupid fucking mistake.
It all gathered in her gauntlet, though the name was no longer fitting. She watched as black ink spread along her arm and wrapped itself along her bicep. She watched the oily black metal spread and consume even more of her. Watched as it took away more of Ashtik and replaced her with the Champion.
She screamed as an amethyst tear fell and the punch froze the world around her. It moved so fast that the raw lightning that dogged its back struggled to keep up. She could do nothing but watch as it sailed through the air and clashed with unmitigated power against... steel?
The chest plate cracked and caved completely. The damage was not so much in the punch, as it was in the blowback. Shards of lightning followed the rush of wind. They circled the ruptured chest plate and whipped out behind it.
¡°Good,¡± a distant voice whispered. Ash tried to see him, but for some reason, the whole world had started to spin against her. She couldn¡¯t tell if Amell was a meter from her, or back in Maester Veil. She pulled her hands high, ready to carry on the bout, but try as you might; gravity is not a foe you can punch through. Down, down, down she went, and dreams of victory were all she held claim to.
¡°Good work, Spinny.¡±
Chapter Eighteen: And Other Sins.
A clash of iron forced a flood across the lands. Smiling soldiers drowned with delight. Men did gleeful battle at every corner. A shanty sang out, its lyrics randy and bold. The battlefield was an old oaken table; the warriors, old broken men.
A young man bore his own iron with a pearly grin. He clashed with the iron of his oldest friend and cackled as he drowned beneath the glad torrents.
¡°The hero of the hour!¡± A grizzled old veteran of these well-worn fields called out.
She stumbled in her daze. It was hard to keep a grip of the slickened ground beneath her leather boots. The first assault suffered was the smell of corpses, though none before her were so lifeless as to be forgiven for the stench. It was an older, and less healthily proportioned, man who bore the blatant signature. Death hung on his breath in the same way she imagined it would on a demon. Though she also imagined that no demon could look so heinous as he.
He was in good company here, amongst the elder patrons of battle. All seemed to bare his same onerous corpus and lecherous gaze.
One man, bearded and built, handed her an iron of her own. Icy cold to the touch and almost as pungent as the men around her; though for this, at least, she was glad. She drowned herself within the iron bounds. If the finest of drinks were the nectar of gods, then this was the piss of the devils. It was no wonder the men around her were of such poor display, the drink had drained them of any virtues and offered them as sacrifice to Taitu ¨C the goddess of revelry.
It was not the first iron tankard she had downed this night, but it was most certainly the worst. As it was with drinks like these; once it was finished, the next would taste impossibly better.
¡°Hail,¡± the drunken master cried. ¡°To the Kovayeshi Commander!¡±
The tavern erupted. The drinks flowed and the men were in hedonistic glee. The boys at the corner had stopped playing with their cards to raise a toast in his honour, ¡°The man who beat a god!¡±
The killer of the hour barely managed to mask his smile. He looked around the room with a false stoicism. It was clear he wanted to bask in the revelry but also sought to forge something of a laconic visage for himself.
¡°Sparrow-Knight,¡± a younger voice called out from behind her. ¡°Join us.¡±
It was a table of men and women, though they could only be called so with an ounce of generosity. In truth, not one of the men had yet to shave their first stubble and not one of the women looked as though they had ever faced a pale of ale before in their lives.
Had she been sober, she¡¯d have never had the inclination to join them. But at this late hour, that of the witch, and this deep into her cups; she laughed and sat at the head of their table.
¡°I watched your fights! You were holding out, but then that last one! Damn! Is it true what they say?¡± A pretty, young man enthused.
¡°And what is it ¡®they¡¯ say?¡± Ash slurred.
¡°That you¡¯re a grand Champion!¡± A freckled girl finished.
¡°Yup,¡± Ash hiccupped. ¡°Big scary Champion! Beware my wrath.¡±
The young men and women seemed in awe at the admission. One, a young redheaded woman with darkly tanned skin, scrambled to her feet with a bottle in hand. The girl closest to Ash slid a fresh wooden wine mug towards her and the redhead poured some out.
¡°That¡¯s amazing,¡± the redhead beamed. She came behind Ash and leant over her to pour her a drink. Her perfume filled Ash¡¯s nose as she stretched over her. Caramel and sweetness mixed a little with the wine on her lips.
Once the cup was poured, she pushed the lad to Ash¡¯s left away and stole his seat. ¡°What are you the Champion of?¡± She asked as she took up his seat.
¡°D- dreams,¡± Ash hiccupped again.
¡°Wow, do you know what I dream about?¡±
¡°Sure,¡± Ash chuckled. ¡°You dream about a gorgeous white-hair sw- sweeping you off your feet.¡±
¡°Heh, when I said I was looking for the woman of my dreams, I didn¡¯t mean it so literally,¡± the redhead winked.
¡°So, Champion,¡± an eastern looking lad interrupted. ¡°What brings you to the Forgelands? Here to study?¡±
¡°Nope, I''m here to... here to meet the king. He¡¯s gonna give me a big ol¡¯ castle. What about you lot?¡±
¡°Ah, we¡¯re from Raven keep,¡± the redhead smiled. ¡°But it¡¯s Poli¡¯s twenty-third, so we thought we¡¯d make the trek here, celebrate.¡±
¡°Twenty-third?¡± Ash repeated, half shocked. They all looked so young, yet they must have all been older than she. The redhead, with her hazel eyes that seemed to burn through Ash¡¯s cotton shirt, looked as though she had not long since turned eighteen. It seemed folk aged much more gracefully here, be it due to some miracle skin routines, or the relatively stress-free life of a city dwelling student.
It was no wonder folk had asked if Ash was Evara¡¯s mother. In their eyes, Ash was probably in her thirties or forties.
¡°I¡¯ll say, you made it a most excellent celebration!¡± The eastern lad, who must have been this Poli, laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything so... raw, as that last bout!¡±
¡°Aye,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°But in the end, the best man won.¡±
¡°Nonsense!¡± Amell cried over his crowd of worshipers. He waded through with a drunkard¡¯s grace and came upon her table. ¡°Never have I faced a battle so brilliant!¡± He boomed in a voice much louder than the little tavern could contain. ¡°Did you see the sheer speed of her strikes? The raw power of her hits?¡±
¡°And yet I lost,¡± Ash said from within her mug.
¡°You shattered my great sword with a punch! Who does that? Who else could possibly do that? Thats not just impressive, it''s insane!¡± He clasped both hands around her shoulders and squoze her in something of a distant hug.
¡°Not to mention your breastplate, ser,¡± the redhead smirked.
¡°EXACTLY!¡± He bellowed.
¡°What happened to your breastplate?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Well... before you collapsed, you let loose one remarkable strike. I had to shield myself with my discarded armour. Let¡¯s say... it¡¯s seen better days,¡± Amell smirked. He hefted his massive pack from beneath his cloak and dropped it atop the table. He loosened the tie and let it fall away where his armour plate was revealed.
Purple, glowing fissures webbed out across what little surface remained around the massive hole at its centre. The jagged metal caved inwards far enough that, had Amell being wearing it, she would have punched clean through his ribcage.
¡°I¡¯ve seen cannons do less damage!¡± Amell laughed. She didn¡¯t know what a cannon was but she assumed that it was a complement.
¡°How did you do it?¡± Poli asked, his eyes as wide as his skull would allow.
¡°I... Don¡¯t know,¡± Ash awkwardly chuckled. She took a moment to finish her mug, where the redhead dutifully topped her up soon after. ¡°I just... wanted to win, I guess.¡±
¡°Was it a power of your own, or your god gear?¡± The redhead asked.
¡°My... God gear, I think.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t see what a big punch has to do with being the Champion of dreams,¡± one of the boys pointed out.
¡°Maybe it¡¯s just to knock them out. A punch so powerful it could put gods to sleep!¡± The redhead giggled.
¡°Yeah...¡± Ash snorted much too harshly.
¡°Do you actually have any ¡®dream¡¯ powers?¡± the brunette woman asked.
¡°I erm,¡± Ash stuttered. ¡°I made my sister fall asleep once.¡± She paused to consider. ¡°And I have visions while I sleep. Oh, and I saw someone¡¯s memory once! Though, that was also my sister, come to think of it.¡±
¡°Whatever your ¡®powers¡¯ may be, you¡¯ve a bloody strong hook even without the gauntlet!¡± Amell laughed. He raised his cup high and all of the students instinctively joined along.
¡°Sparrow-Knight! Champion of Dreams! Ashtik. Let us toast to you child. Let us tell the world of your greatness, of your might. A grand Champion for less than a month, yet the grandest of women from the first breath! Mark this as the last day you shall ever taste defeat!¡±
¡°Atariim!¡± The students all called out as one before sinking their drinks.
¡°Atariim,¡± Amell softly said as he clinked his cup with Ash¡¯s own.
¡°Atariim,¡± Ash offered back with a reluctant grin.
¡°Ashtik, hey?¡± The redhead whispered. ¡°That¡¯s a name I could get used to saying, or... screaming.¡±
¡°Screaming?¡± Ash repeated dumbly. ¡°Are you in danger?¡±
The redhead just smiled broadly as she ran a finger along Ash¡¯s gauntlet. ¡°I¡¯m Cara, by the way. Not that you asked,¡± she smirked while feigning offence.
¡°Right,¡± Ash coughed, ¡°Cara. Hi.¡±
¡°Hi,¡± Cara snickered.
¡°Come now, Commander, this is the girl who you claim all but defeated you? She looks like a stiff breeze would have her at an end!¡± Another obnoxiously loud voice bellowed.
¡°The gods themselves could send all the winds in the worlds at her, and she¡¯d not so much as flinch, ser! I swear it!¡± Amell blustered.
¡°Bah,¡± the other man scoffed. ¡°It sounds to me like you kicked a little girl¡¯s ass and now you have to make it sound as some noble feat, rather than an ungentlemanly act.¡±
¡°I swear it, ser. Offer her any challenge, and she shall prove greater than it!¡±
¡°Very well,¡± the man scoffed. He brandished a knife and for a brief instant, it seemed like he intended to use it. ¡°Here,¡± he finally offered. He spun the blade so its hilt came to Amell¡¯s hand. He took it and seemed to measure its balance.
¡°A throwing knife?¡± Amell realised.
¡°Indeed. Both of you shall throw the blade at the board. We shall score your capacities against each other.¡±
¡°What do you say, Spinny?¡± Amell asked.
Ash downed her drink yet again and rose to unsteady feet. ¡°You said it yourself; I¡¯ll never lose again!¡±
Three blades each, and three times a perfect score. It was a common game, even in Maester Veil. A square board, maybe a metre wide, with depictions of different creatures across it. The aim of the game was to simply call your shot and hit it. The more specific the call, and the more accurate the shot, the greater the score.
It seemed the drinks had done nothing to lessen her aim, though the same couldn¡¯t be said of her capacity to stand. More than once, she had nearly fallen atop of poor Cara; though she clearly didn¡¯t seem to mind.
¡°Ashtik,¡± Cara whispered. ¡°If you can hit an eagle eye, I''ll give you a kiss.¡±
¡°All too easy!¡± Ash cackled. Amell finished his round and, yet again, scored a boringly perfect score. He plucked the blades from the square board and offered them to Ash.
¡°You might as well give up, Spinny. Back home, they call me the angel of love, for I only strike hearts.¡±
¡°Well over here, we call you the Kovayeshi Clown, mostly cos¡¯ your big ass nose, to be honest.¡± She toed the throwing line and readied to throw.
¡°Boo!¡± Amell shouted in an attempt to startle her. Frankly, she was much too drunk to move so quick as a flinch. All she afforded him was a venomous dose of side-eye until she returned to her strike.
¡°Eagle eye,¡± she called. The blade floated through the air, and found nothing but wooden eye. ¡°Eagle eye,¡± she repeated. Again, the blade floated ever so elegantly towards its target before nestling itself deeply within the same eagle¡¯s eye. Not a centimetre parted the two knives.
Sense told her to aim elsewhere, but as she looked to her right and saw the beaming grin of the redheaded Cara, sense took a backseat.
¡°Eagle eye,¡± she called again.
Amell cackled at the boldness of the move, but he knew that pride had beaten sense within his opponent. ¡°Best of luck, Champion,¡± he wickedly grinned.
¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, old man. Once I win here, we¡¯ll put you down for your nap.¡±
She angled the blade to fly straight, unlike the rotating throws she had done previously. If she was to make it work, she would need to slide the knife into the hair of space that separated the two blades.
¡°You¡¯ve got this, Ashtik!¡± Cara cheered.
She nestled the blade between the steel fingers of her gauntlet and, with a flick of her wrist, she saw the blade off.
The crowd fell silent. Not a breath was taken, but for Amell who blew jokingly at the careening blade. Then, with the chink of metal, was the round decided.
The knife had landed between the two blades, but it had not been so well placed as to hit the board and, after a brief and pathetic fall, Amell was hailed as the victor!
¡°Even in my old age, I prove too great a foe for the grand Champion!¡± Amell boasted over the cheering tavern.
Ash, at the least, was graceful in this defeat. She reached out a hand and Amell gladly clasped it.
¡°Just you wait till I¡¯m sober,¡± she grinned. ¡°You¡¯ll be begging for mercy.¡±
¡°Well, I best keep you drunk then. Barman, another!¡±
It seemed that the events of the night had finally convinced the bar owner to pull out some of the good stuff. That, or she had simply grown too drunk to taste the horror in her cups.
¡°Hang on!¡± Ash shouted to Amell. ¡°I have one final challenge. Something fair, to determine the grand victor!¡±
¡°Is that right?¡±
¡°Aye, what do you say? A final challenge, all or nothing?¡±
¡°And what would this challenge consist of?¡±
¡°A... test of physical ability.¡±
¡°Ha! You¡¯re on!¡±
¡°Brilliant,¡± Ash said with a vile grin.
¡°When it comes to physical ability, do you truly believe you can compete with such a fine specimen as I?¡± Amell boasted. He rolled back his sleeve to expose his admittedly impressive arms while he stood flexing for a moment, clearly for the benefit of the captive crowd.
¡°I¡¯m sure such a mighty man as you will have no problem defeating little old me,¡± Ash smirked. ¡°Stand like this.¡± She straightened her back and lifted her arms high over her head. He had to move from under a rafter to do the same motion, but he did follow along.
¡°Then, keeping your legs straight, touch your toes,¡± Ash explained. She made sure to catch Cara¡¯s eye before she folded over and touched her hands against the tips of her toes with a beaming smile.
Ash slowly unbent, tracking her legs with the palms of her hands while keeping her gaze locked to Cara. Then, with a sly smirk, she looked over to Amell. He huffed and he puffed, then he fell all the way down. It took six men to catch him, and six more to help him back up.
¡°I believe that makes me the victor of the night,¡± she said with a smug pride filling her smile.
¡°Oh, I''d agree,¡± Cara whispered closely into Ash¡¯s ear.
¡°Nonsense, I won two out of three competitions!¡± Amell jokingly protested.
¡°And yet the final bout was quote, ¡®all or nothing,¡¯¡± Cara giggled as she stood behind Ash and wrapped her slender arms around Ash¡¯s shoulders.
¡°Well... let''s call it a tie,¡± he chuckled.
¡°If it¡¯s a tie, why do you win the prize?¡± Cara whispered into Ash¡¯s ear. It sent a strange shiver down Ash¡¯s neck. The feeling of her soft lips stroking against her ear as she so intimately whispered the most brilliant words. The heat of her breath against her bare neck, and the soft warmth of her chest against Ash¡¯s back. It was enough to make a blushing maiden of the warrior Champion.
The night carried on, and the drinks kept flowing. A band played in the corner but the music no longer offended her ears. It was an energetic dance tune. Fast and joyous. She and this Cara danced till they sullied their clothes with sweat and spilled drinks, then they danced some more.
Ash was truly awful at it. Stiff and mechanical, while her snug paramour seemed as free and flowing as her bounding red locs. It didn¡¯t matter. She was happy following Cara¡¯s lead, and for the first time in her life, she was happy amongst the crowd. Elated to be in someone''s arms. To feel the heat of another¡¯s body, to be in the eyes of so many. A matter of weeks ago, she¡¯d have had a nightmare about a situation like this. Now, she couldn¡¯t think of anywhere in the world she¡¯d rather be.
Hopefully that was because of the greatness of current company, and not a result of the general degradation of the world beyond these mouldy brown walls.
Cara¡¯s short red skirt caught against Ash¡¯s sheath as the two moved closer. The flame haired beauty giggled as she unhooked herself, then she brought herself closer and placed a gentle hand against Ash¡¯s heaving chest as she gently swayed side to side.
A couple of times, Ash tried to talk to the woman who¡¯s hips she so gladly held, but all sense had been robbed by the many, many drinks and the words came as a jumble of insubstantial nothingness.
Cara smiled and took her hand, leading her back towards the table. She stumbled across the dancefloor and collapsed down into her seat, before Cara decided her lap seemed a more comfortable surface than the old oak bench.
¡°Hey,¡± Ash slurred.
¡°Hey,¡± Cara smirked. She wrapped her hand around Ash¡¯s face and stroked away a single stray hair. ¡°Wanna get out of here?¡±
¡°Mhmm,¡± was all Ash could manage through her stupor. The redheaded woman took her hand and started to lead her onwards to the natural next thing.
¡°Nope,¡± a man¡¯s voice ordered. It was Amell. He came through the crowd with a strangely severe look. ¡°You two are going nowhere,¡± he declared.
¡°What do you mean?¡± Cara confusedly asked.
¡°She¡¯s drunk, child. In no condition for any... merrymaking.¡±
¡°She¡¯s okay,¡± Cara meekly protested. ¡°Right?¡±
¡°Ye,¡± Ash quietly grunted. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±
¡°No, you aren¡¯t. If the two of you want to make off, then do so another day.¡±
¡°She was still into me when she was sober,¡± Cara protested, though it seemed like she was soon to agree with Amell.
¡°Then she will still be ¡®into¡¯ you come the morrow. Tonight, she will sleep alone. Understand?¡± ¡°Shit, you¡¯re right. I wasn¡¯t thinking. Would you give her this when she sobers?¡± Cara asked with something of a blush.
¡°Of course,¡± he nodded, ¡°but for now, I think it is time we made away.¡±
¡°Of course. Thank you, ser... For looking after her, I mean. It was a pleasure to meet you both.¡±
¡°So, I looked up and there she was; hair on fire and the gerbil in a cage!¡± Ash drunkenly recalled.
¡°And what did she say?¡± Amell cackled.
¡°She said, ¡®I¡¯m glad you''re here Ash, I think I smell a fire.¡¯¡±
The two burst out laughing in the silence of the nighttime streets. Their breath clouded in the late autumnal air. The freshness, and brisk cold, helped sober the both of them up to some degree; but Ash was still barely able to stand on her own.
They pottered along the old cobbled paths, passing hazy lamplights and grimy alleys on their way.
Eventually, around twenty minutes into their walk, they had to rest on a curb beneath a beaming orange light.
Amell wrapped his lapis cloak around her as she started to shiver. The efforts of the day mixed with the drinks of the night stole away her strength and left her to lean her head against his shoulders as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
¡°Amell,¡± she whispered after a while.
¡°Aye?¡±
¡°Thank you.¡±
¡°For what?¡±
¡°Joining us. I know its riskier than you let on, being here. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here.¡±
¡°Thank you, Spinny. I¡¯m glad you let me tag along.¡±
¡°Can I ask...?¡±
¡°Of course.¡±
¡°You said I reminded you of your son. Can you tell me about him?¡±
¡°Ah,¡± he sighed.
¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± she weakly said.
¡°No, I¡¯m glad to,¡± he smiled. ¡°My son... well he¡¯d be just a little younger than you. Seventeen now. Not a particularly studious lad, but witty and clever. Must have got that from his mother,¡± he chuckled. ¡°I think he¡¯d have liked you. He tended to enjoy people who pushed themselves a little too far.¡±
¡°Who knows, I might have been your daughter-in-law,¡± Ash chuckled.
¡°I... did not think that was your... route? Not after tonight,¡± he awkwardly said. Ash gave no response but a snort. ¡°But,¡± Amell quietly continued, ¡°I¡¯d be proud... If you had been my daughter.¡±
A far from little snore echoed through the cold night streets, and marked him as alone in his thoughts.
¡°I don¡¯t know if your Goden watches over you. I don¡¯t know if he can hear me, but... Choose someone else. Someone worse, or someone better... Just let her go. Please, this life isn¡¯t for her.¡±
It is a noble thing, to protect and to shelter. It was his deepest wish, and there was nothing he wouldn¡¯t have given up, as he sat beneath those frigid stars with her, to give her a chance at freedom. If only he had known what she knew, that Ash hadn¡¯t been chosen. That the life wasn¡¯t meant for her, but someone... better.
The winds unsettled, and the time had come to make the long and lonely trek home.
There is pain... There is shame... and then there is the pain of not remembering what caused such shame. A blanket of rough cotton had been lovingly draped over what she quickly realised was her undressed body in the middle of the common room. She might have moved to hide herself more thoroughly, had her head not bore the weight of a star.
She could have lay there, utterly inanimate, for seconds ¨C or hours ¨C before the most terrible of noises clashed out. It was singing, and laughing, and everything accursed and evil. It was the most dire of insults, spoken in a voice so loud the gods above and the deviled souls below must have had to cover their own ears for fear of the volume.
Then the actual clanging started. Iron on iron, like a terrible drum. It could have sounded like combat; had it not so blatantly been done with the purpose to annoy.
Sheer spite granted her the strength to roll over just enough to catch a glimpse of her beloved little sister, Evara, and her moderately tolerated colleague, Sujin, clashing together woks and pans. The genuine and beaming smile might have been endearing, had it not been so vile and cruel.
¡°Good morrow!¡± They both sang in the highest pitches their screeching voices could manage.
Ash was aware enough now to properly cover herself, but the effort of sitting up soon after proved too much for her delicate constitution. Bile mounted up in her throat and made ready to storm the breach.
She did not waste a word, before running off to the nearest toilet and releasing the nights mistakes deep within. The sound must have bounded through the halls, as Evara quickly came in behind Ash.
It must have been a sight to behold. Ashtik, the Black Heretic, covered in naught but a blanket and black steel gauntlet, violently vomiting in a borrowed toilet.
She felt Ev stroke a gentle hand over her bare back as her other hand moved away the stray hairs that clung to her face.
¡°Here,¡± Ev said. She placed her hand more firmly against Ash¡¯s back as her eyes took on their golden hue.
¡°No,¡± Ash spluttered. She gently pushed Ev away, but the effort caused a new bout of sickness. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your energy... on a hangover,¡± Ash managed to get out between sicknesses.
¡°Don¡¯t be silly,¡± Ev protested. ¡°I need you better so I can hear about this Cara.¡± A bright beaming smile caught her rosy little cheeks. The name rang in a familiar way, but was not so clear in her mind as to warrant the due embarrassment. ¡°Besides,¡± Ev continued. ¡°I need to practice if I ever want to get stronger.¡±
Ash might have argued or resisted, had the healing not been so powerfully soothing. In moments, what had been agonising became easy. What had been the verge of death, became a mild headache and what had been her happy little sister, now became a sack of beans collapsed against her back.
The power that had somehow allowed her to heal a mortal wound in Sujin was truly gone. Now, the minute of exertion had left her utterly inert. Ash was still proud, however. A minute was much longer than she had previously been capable of.
Ash took her baby sister into her arms and carried her off, into the common room. She set her down delicately in a mound of cushions and stroked back some of her hair.
¡°Sis,¡± Ev meekly whispered.
¡°Yeah?¡±
¡°You stink.¡±
¡°Love you, too.¡±
¡°Have no fear! Eggs are here!¡± The booming voice of the old warrior bellowed. He marched in from the kitchen, four plates spread along his arms.
Ev jolted up in an instant, sniffing deeply. ¡°I smell bacon,¡± she declared, seemingly without a trace of her signature fatigue.
She bounced up and hopped across the room like a little rabbit until she set herself down at the table, patiently awaiting her meal. Ash wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself and sat at her sister¡¯s side. The boys sat across from them, though there seemed a clear tension between the two. Ash chose to ignore the suspicion and instead turned to Amell¡¯s bright face. ¡°Did Evara lessen your hangover too?¡±
¡°Nope, I cured my hangover the old-fashioned way... By not getting one,¡± he smugly said. ¡°Now eat. The grease will help whatever is left.¡±
Grease, at least, was plentiful on her dish. The six rashers of bacon seemed to float in it, let alone the fat sausages that lay within the sauced beans. A layer of oil sat atop of the tomato paste where the sausage had rolled as the plate had been placed.
She took up the strange Forgeland version of a fork, and prodded at the first sausage.
¡°Are you gonna eat that?¡± Ev quickly asked.
Her entire plate was empty, not a spec left to clean. She must have licked the sauce away, rather than waste even an ounce of food. Ash couldn¡¯t help but laugh before she agreed, ¡°probably not. I¡¯m still a little timid. Here.¡± She handed the plate over, and again, it was gone within a blink. Ash thought she had been quick during the tourney against Amell, but she had nothing on Evara versus a strip of fatty bacon.
¡°My compliments to the chef,¡± Ev giggled in an inappropriately lady-like way after her rabid display.
¡°I shall pass that along,¡± Amell chuckled. The laugh seemed forced, painful even. Everything about him seemed a little sluggish, in fact. He toyed with his food more-so than devoured it, like Ev did. His eyes seemed heavy and bagged as they slowly and randomly moved around the room.
¡°I¡¯ll fetch some water for you, Spinny.¡± He rose in a way that would be fitting for a man of his age, had that man not also been a titan of physicality. He all but waddled towards the kitchen, never looking back.
¡°Spinny?¡± Ev scoffed.
¡°Excuse me a sec,¡± Ash whispered. She stalked out of her chair and into the kitchen behind the old man. He keeled over the counter and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
Ash swiped a pair of pans and snuck just behind his back.
BANG, BANG, BANG rang out in a steel chorus. If he was so energised as to jump, he¡¯d have left his skin behind as he landed on the roof above them. It was as agonising for Ashtik as it was for the old man, but it confirmed what she already knew.
¡°Not hungover, my ass!¡± She cackled.
He had no words, but for a gasping breath as he tried to steady his pulse.
His hand scampered over the countertop behind him, where he found a single potato and launched it, with murderous intent, towards her head. She managed to duck away, and slid back into the common room.
¡°Ash, did you do this?¡± Ev gasped. Ash walked over, checking her shoulder for the old man¡¯s potato assault. Evara and Sujin were hunkered over some strange workbench that Sujin had mounted on one of the smaller tables. Within, rested Amell¡¯s burst breastplate.
¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Ash said.
¡°H- Fucking... how?¡± Ev demanded.
¡°Well, I... punched it.¡±
¡°You punched through an inch of hardened, enchanted steel?¡±
¡°Mhmm.¡±
¡°Neat.¡±
¡°The damage is severe,¡± Sujin stated as though it wasn¡¯t obvious, ¡°But I can fix it.¡±
¡°Really?¡± Ev doubted.
¡°Indeed, observe if you wish.¡± He pulled out a pouch of jade green powder and set it atop the workbench. He then drew a set of strange tools in a leather binder. He pulled free a single scalpel like instrument and set it against the broken steel. It sliced through the metal like it was butter.
He cut around the hole, removing each jagged and bent edge. Once the broken parts were in hand, he placed them into a small cup and sealed it shut with a runed lid.
He drew out another tool. This one was like a flute, only the jade powder was placed in the top and a small stick strummed along its length. With each stroke, a little dust filtered through the bottom of the device. He traced along each crack and shatter, sprinkling the dust precisely over each part.
Sujin then drew a large leather chest piece. He placed it beneath the metal and allowed it to fill in the gap Ash had punched. Then he took up the cup of steel shards, and released a small tap. Molten steel poured over the leather mould and made the shape of a breastplate. As the molten steel came into contact with the jade dust around the hole, the green powder erupted in a quick flash of flame. Once it settled, a green seam filled each crack and held the breastplate together perfectly. Sujin removed the leather template and presented the finished piece.
¡°There we are, stronger than new!¡± He proudly said.
¡°Just like that?¡± Ev doubted.
¡°I make it look easy,¡± he grinned, ¡°In truth, this took a decade of careful study to do.¡±
¡°We are lucky to have you then,¡± Ash said.
¡°Thank you, Ashtik.¡±
¡°So, what are you two up to today?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Well, I thought I¡¯d visit an old friend. The Ducissa. I might say she would want to meet you, Ashtik. She would be a great ally when you go to meet the king,¡± Sujin said.
¡°I, erm,¡± Ash stammered. Some part of her knew that she should go, but the rest of her wanted nothing less. The idea of meeting some noblewoman would turn her stomach at the best of times, and this was far from the best of times. Her plans of spending the day asleep in the great baths seemed much more desirable than some stuffy meeting.
¡°Go, Ash. You need all the help you can get, and the most powerful woman in the largest city in the world seems like a pretty helpful friend to have,¡± Ev said.
¡°It¡¯s something you¡¯d be better at,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°She¡¯ll want to meet the Champion, not the Champion¡¯s little sister. If I go, it¡¯ll be something of an insult. Seriously, I know you¡¯ll hate it but you have to do it.¡±
¡°Fine,¡± Ash acquiesced. ¡°And what will you be up to today?¡±
¡°Rosie told me about the arch healer down at the courts. Apparently, she¡¯ll do free lessons for anyone with a talent for healing magic! I was thinking that I¡¯d go down and ask for a lesson, if that¡¯s okay?¡±
¡°Fine,¡± Ash said with a forced smile. ¡°But promise me you¡¯ll tell her about what happened in the forest before she teaches you any spells.¡±
¡°I swear it.¡±
Sujin placed his jade powder away and turned to Evara with a warm smile, ¡°We journey in the same directions, then. We should walk on together.¡±
¡°Absolutely,¡± Ev agreed. ¡°But if you¡¯re meeting the ducissa, Ash, go get a bath.¡±
¡°Sounds like paradise,¡± Ash sighed.
¡°Just don¡¯t take all day again.¡±
Ash grunted in annoyed response, but she managed to rise and make away for the baths.
¡°Amell!¡± Evara called out.
¡°Aye?¡± He replied from within the kitchen.
¡°What are you up to today? Want to join me at the chapel?¡±
¡°As... entertaining as a day of silent prayer sounds,¡± Amell chuckled as he entered into the common room, ¡°I was planning on gathering some materials for our journey to Raven keep.¡±
¡°Very well, but make sure you are all back by the twentieth hour. I want to have a group meal before we¡¯re forced to move on from here.¡±
¡°A group meal?¡± Ash snickered. ¡°Tell me you aren¡¯t cooking.¡±
¡°I can cook,¡± Ev said, abashed. ¡°But Rosie said she¡¯d help.¡±
¡°Who?¡±
¡°Sister Rose, the maid they assigned to me,¡± Ev explained. ¡°Did they not assign one to you?¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Ash grunted. ¡°Yeah, Mei. I forgot about her.¡±
¡°You two get maids?¡± Amell asked with a bite of humour. ¡°Where¡¯s my maid?¡±
¡°They must have assumed that you were Ash¡¯s man-at-arms. You¡¯re just too common for service, I''m afraid,¡± Ev said in her haughtiest tone, sticking her nose up to the two men.
¡°Common?¡± Amell repeated in feigned shock. ¡°I¡¯m the only actual nobleman here.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think nobility counts when your queen declares you a traitor,¡± Ev smirked. ¡°Or when you look like... that.¡±
¡°What¡¯s wrong with how I look?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t get me started, I¡¯ve got a full day planned and much too little time to tear your ego apart.¡±
Amell tried for a smile, though Ash couldn¡¯t help but notice him stroking a hand through his overgrown stubble and shaggy hair.
¡°Do I look that bad?¡± He asked of Ash.
¡°I¡¯m wearing nothing but a blanket and vomit, its best I keep quiet. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I''m dying for a bath.¡±
Some Champions were so renown that they garnered their own cults. Folk who believed the Champion had so thoroughly embodied their patrons, or acted so inhumanly kind, that they must have been demi-gods in and of themselves. If such a fate would befall Ash, she hoped that her temple would be here; a simple bathhouse.
The only place in the world where she could be at peace. Weightless and warm in waters that cleansed even the deepest of shames. She could have spent a lifetime there, she should have, but duty called and her paradise had to be short lived.
¡°My lady,¡± an all too soft voice whispered from the far end of the halls. It startled Ash, but she hid it well. Unlike the last time, she did not flounder and splash. Instead, she simply turned to see Mei, her supposed attendant, stood with a set of cloths in hand.
¡°Mei,¡± Ash choked. ¡°How are you?¡±
¡°I am well, thank you. Master Sujin has informed me that you plan to meet with the Ducissa.¡±
¡°I- Yes,¡± Ash replied. She sank deep enough into the water that her jaw suffered occasional splashes from rogue ripples.
¡°I have taken the liberty to prepare you some appropriate garments,¡± Mei whispered. She lay the towels down and removed the top one to reveal a set of neatly folded clothes beneath. ¡°If they do not please, I will gather some others for you, my lady.¡±
¡°Thank you, Mei, I hope it was no bother.¡±
¡°It is my job, my lady. Would you consider it a bother to go on a hunt?¡±
¡°Oh, I suppose not. I¡¯m surprised you know I''m a huntress though,¡± Ash said.
¡°It is also my job to know about you, my lady. I am very good at my job.¡±
¡°Then,¡± Ash hesitated. ¡°You know what I am?¡±
¡°A Champion, my lady.¡±
¡°Do you know of what?¡±
Mei hesitated for a moment. It seemed two or three answers battled to leap from her tongue and she had to decide which one was permitted to part her lips. ¡°One has been granted many answers, many of which cannot be true.¡±
¡°They¡¯re true.¡±
¡°Then you mean to tell me that you are the Champion of Black?¡± Mei doubted.
¡°No, I told you I¡¯m Ashtik... but, yeah,¡± she awkwardly chuckled.
¡°Such seems... unlikely,¡± Mei slowly said.
¡°Believe me, I agree.¡±
¡°Then that is why Veytor¡¯s inquisition chases you?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Ash chuckled. ¡°The Black Heretic, they¡¯ve dubbed me.¡±
¡°This is... a remarkable claim. Do you have any proof?¡±
¡°Aside from the gauntlet and mark?¡± Ash offered. She flexed the invisible muscle that allowed her to retract her steel skin. The flesh beneath had grown much paler than the rest of her skin, but the little sparrow seemed elated to have free reign of her arm. It fluttered along and danced around. It circled her bicep and landed at her wrist before regarding Mei with a little flutter.
The sight captivated the artificially severe woman. She seemed to forget her lifetime of propriety training as she drew close to Ash and stroked a hand against the fluttering little bird.
¡°She¡¯s beautiful,¡± Mei whispered. She regained herself at the words, and noticed that she had stepped into the bath and soaked the rim of her dress. ¡°My apologies, my lady.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Ash said with a forced smiled. It ceased to be forced as she finally released the gauntlet back to its preferred state. It writhed across her like a corruptive fungus before settling back around her bicep. Ash noticed that the gauntlet only spread so far as the sparrow had flown.
¡°It seems too beautiful for the Black Champion,¡± Mei whispered.
¡°Dreams can be beautiful,¡± Ash meekly protested.
¡°But the Black Champion... In Tave we call you the Champion of War. It is said you shall wage a war against the very night. That all will be consumed, and only if you win shall we be permitted to rebuild. Where is beauty¡¯s place in this?¡±
¡°I cannot wage war against the night, Mei. That¡¯s just prophesies trying to sound poetic. For all we know, the war I¡¯m destined to fight won¡¯t start for a thousand years, and my only role in it is to create some doo-hickey that kills one specific guy.¡±
¡°That would be the beauty of the beast, I suppose. One can never truly know, until it is too late,¡± Mei said. She seemed to regain her formal air as she bowed away. ¡°Your clothes are here, my lady. Please let me know if there is anything I can help you with.¡±
¡°O- Of course. Thank you, Mei. Will- Will you join us this evening? Evara wants to have a big meal together, and you¡¯re more than welcome to come,¡± she timidly offered.
¡°I am your maid, my lady. It would be improper of me to eat with you.¡±
¡°Sharing a meal is never improper. Besides, you¡¯ve seen me all wet and naked now, I might as well buy you dinner afterwards,¡± Ash chuckled. A gentle snort found Mei who was so gracious as to even crack the first genuine smile Ash had seen from her.
¡°It is a... kind offer, my lady. If my duties to not keep me away, I would be honoured.¡± With that, she made away yet again. The bottom of her dress dragged along the floor and left a soggy trail as she went.
Ash dried herself off and wrapped her hair in a red towel with a small ignis symbol stitched into it. It quickly dried her hair, but left it in a horribly tangled mess. She bound it all in a single lazy bun and decided to deal with it at a later date.
The clothes left out were much greater than any she would have picked for herself. Not so lady like as to be restrictive and stuffy, yet still elegant and ¨C dare she to think ¨C even pretty.
Purple satin and silk, loose around the belly and tight around the chest. On its own, it may have been a little too exposed. But a black felt undershirt covered the chest window. It acted as both a right sleeve with a fingerless glove, and a turtleneck, for the purple overlayer lacked either. It was clear that Mei had made adjustments to the undershirt to remove the left sleeve and allow room for her gauntlet.
A pair of tight black cavalry pants, trimmed with purple seams covers, fit as though perfectly tailored. She elected not to wear the given leather boots, as the four-inch wedges made her feel off balance, so she simply slid her own armoured greaves on over the pants.
She spent a moment attaching her spear sheath to her back, and her dirk sheath inside her boot, before making away.
Sujin stood at the threshold. Shaved and kempt in an all-white suit of the Forgeland fashion. His dark hair had been cut shorter than she had ever seen of a man outside of a monetary or the military. She had seen bald men with more along the sides than he, but it was a look he wore well. It seemed a shave and a bath had done wonders for him. His skin had regained its golden hue, and his eyes had lost their weighted bags. A pattern rode up his left sleeve, a flag bearing sparrow of flaming red and orange. It looked closer to a phoenix in its depiction, but it was clearly designed with Ash in mind. She did not recognise the flag it bore, but it wasn¡¯t that of the Forgelands nor Maester Veil.
¡°You look dashing, Ashtik,¡± he smiled.
¡°Thanks, you scrub up better than I expected.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll take that as a complement, then,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Once your sister arrives, we can be off.¡±
¡°Where is she?¡±
¡°Dressing, I believe.¡±
¡°Gods, you should probably take a seat,¡± Ash groaned.
¡°It has already been some time, she won¡¯t dally, I am sure.¡±
Ash didn¡¯t reply. She scoffed and found a table to sit on while they waited. It wasn¡¯t such a long wait as she expected. Mayhaps an hour before the child made herself visible.
¡°Sorry!¡± Ev shouted as she rushed out. ¡°I lost track of time!¡±
She burst through the doors without an ounce of grace, but such could not be said for her appearance. Ash had seen paintings of princesses renowned for their elegance and beauty who would pale in comparison.
Silver and gold flowed like a waterfall down her little form. It pooled around her calves as the golden trim of her gorgeous dress. White sleeves carried golden flames down to her hands and linked around her middle finger. Her long flowing hair had been bound around a single halo braid and allowed to flow down to her shoulders.
Her maid, Rosie, must have showed her how to apply makeup because Ash had never seen her sister so expertly painted. Black wing tips rode over the steely and sparkling shadow over her eyes. Her natural blush had been brought to a faded pink against her dark skin. A single strip of matching pink gloss had been added to the middle of her lips and a single freckle had been marked just beneath her eye.
¡°Ev,¡± Ash gasped. ¡°You look gorgeous.¡±
¡°Thanks,¡± Ev blushed. ¡°And you look badass.¡± She made note of Sujin¡¯s own outfit and smiled as she noticed the sparrow at his arm. ¡°Is that the flag of house Macau?¡± She asked.
¡°It is,¡± he confirmed. ¡°I hoped it would be a sign of friendship. The sparrow of Ashtik, with the phoenix of Lady Macau.¡±
¡°I like it,¡± Ev beamed. ¡°Did you have the staff make it?¡±
¡°No. I went in to town yesterday when I realised we would be visiting.¡±
¡°Oh, right. Well, I¡¯ve held us up much too long. Shall we adieu?¡±
¡°Of course, after you, my lady,¡± Ash bowed with a teasing smile.
¡°Thank you, my good knight,¡± Ev curtsied in as regal a voice as she could manage before taking her royal leave.
The royal chapel was a sight beyond sights. The nation was not one of zealots, and yet this monument to the gods must have the grandest creation since the gods themselves tried their hands at the craft. It was not so tall as the ice spire, nor so vast as the crater from which they had left Meomi, but it was a sheer marvel of architecture. A crystal dome capped the marble and jade construction. Pillars of twisting glass coiled out and met in the middle, where a single diamond strut rested. Though it reached from the tip of each spire all the way to the ground, it looked as though it was utterly loose; resting against the small ring at the centre of the glass coils.
It must have been constructed atop of an ancient hill. A thousand marble steps stretched high, but seemed utterly unworn by footsteps.
A thousand soldiers of steel and stone stood their solemn vigils for untold centuries of silent safeguarding of this spiritual shelter. Those nearer the top had been so weathered by the countless ages that barely a trace of warrior remained beneath the formless mounds of stone. As the soldiers came lower, they seemed to be made of newer materials. She saw a bronze knight near the peak, then an iron warrior towards the middle, and a steel-clad knight much later on. Each silent warrior was bespoke. Carved by different hands in different times, but all in the same pose.
¡°They add a new knight for every king,¡± Sujin whispered. ¡°It has become custom to grant the warrior the best technology of the era. Look, there¡¯s king Donaleaf¡¯s.¡± He pointed out to the statue clad in runed silver armour with a great hammer resting where most others equipped blades. It was nowhere near the bottom of the chapel, but it was the last knight added as yet. Maybe three-hundred preceded it, while nearly a thousand spots awaited a thousand future monarchs.
¡°This is my stop,¡± Ev smirked. For as elegant and lady-like as she looked, she was still a child. She bounced up and down in place, giddy for the chance to learn of some magical ways. She was like a dog awaiting permission to tear into a meal.
¡°Remember your promise?¡± Ash said.
¡°Yes,¡± Ev quickly answered.
¡°Say it.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll tell her about the forest before she teaches me anything.¡±
¡°Good,¡± Ash whispered. She stepped up to her sister and gave her a kiss on her forehead. ¡°Be safe, be good, and have fun. I¡¯ll walk by later and check in on you.¡±
With that, Ev was sprinting away. ¡°Good luck with the Ducissa!¡± She breathlessly called back as she clambered up the thousand ancient steps up to the chapel.
¡°Thanks,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°I¡¯m gonna need it.¡±
The child scrambled upwards. She skipped over some steps, and nearly slipped down others. Ash couldn¡¯t pull herself away until she was safely atop them and entering the now distant chapel.
¡°Are you well, Ashtik?¡± Sujin asked.
¡°Not at all,¡± She snorted. ¡°She¡¯s gonna blow that whole building up, isn¡¯t she?¡±
¡°I doubt it,¡± he lied. ¡°She¡¯s surrounded by some of the greatest magical minds of the nation. There can be nowhere safer in the world for her to explore her powers.¡±
The fact didn¡¯t settle Ash¡¯s mind. ¡°Did... you find out why she... exploded?¡±
¡°I... did not,¡± he hesitantly admitted. ¡°That level of magic would be difficult for a powerful magician to sustain. For an utter novice? It makes no sense. If not for everything else happening, she¡¯d be the single most significant discovery in the magical community that I¡¯ve ever seen."
Chapter Nineteen: Avarice.
Every wish every man has ever uttered beneath his bated breath is held in the hold of some distantly approaching ship. You can watch as they bob over and under the horizon, but they will never dock nearby. The ship is always another ship.
Ducissa Niamh Macau settled her castle of stone gold and iron marble at the fore of the ancient docks. Any ship, any wish, bowed before her and begged the right to come true. Once upon a time of kindness, a time when the Lady Macau felt her heart grow sufficiently heavy, she might have allowed one or two wishes to grace the dreams of young boys and girls. That time had passed. Now, dreams were offered at a premium, and wishes were subject to their appropriate taxes and registrations.
The human goddess, the goddess of currency; the patron of profit.
Her angels, men clad in pearly white steel, stood at nearly seven foot each. Taller each than Ash''s spear, and much harder looking. Without a word, or even a mere acknowledgement of the simple mortals at their feet, they slid aside. The wrought iron gate edged open with just as little fair, and even less noise.
The house, or fortress, or temple, seemed closer in design to a village. There were a dozen houses across the stevs of fields within the guarded perimeter. Each built in the same fashion for a differing purpose.
There was a sealed smithy. A chimney as wide and tall as some watchtowers loomed over the stone house. The conical cap at its top held back the inevitable rains and split the abundant smoke out in all directions.
Aside the smithy was what looked to be a seamstress. Two women worked within as they peered out of the darkly tinted windows and caught their eyes upon the pilgrims routed for the holy lands.
Many other trades took place within the micronation, each of which resided within their own custom-built edifice.
They travelled along the golden path, doubtlessly paid for with blood by the pint. From gate to entrance was a greater journey than they had taken from their own borrowed manor to this apparently distant land.
Eventually, just before the sun gave up her strength and readied for her sapphire rest, they arrived at the temple¡¯s grand vestibule.
¡°Master Sujin,¡± a young woman bowed. ¡°I am pleased that you have returned to us so soon.¡±
¡°Amadel, how are you?¡± Sujin beamed. He made no note of the woman¡¯s formality as he dashed before her and took her into his arms for a breathtaking hug. She giggled like a child as he lifted her off her feet.
¡°Sujin, stop it,¡± she cackled but made no attempt to part the hug. ¡°I have to look proper for your guest.¡±
¡°Oh, of course!¡± Sujin suddenly realised. He released the young woman and helped her pat down her flowery service dress. ¡°Amadel, this is Ashtik Sai-Weleg. The... er-¡±
¡°-Champion of Black, yes, we¡¯ve been expecting you,¡± Amadel interrupted with a polite smile.
¡°Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± Ashtik quietly, and awkwardly, insisted. ¡°You two catch up. I¡¯m in no hurry to meet the Lady.¡±
¡°That would be terribly inconsiderate of me, my lady,¡± Amadel protested. ¡°Please, come in. It will soon grow chilly out.¡±
The black-haired woman held an arm out for the party, and Sujin was kind enough to proceed first. He looked back at Ash as he crossed the threshold in what must have been an attempt to comfort her.
The woman, Amadel, led Ash towards a comfy little room. It was so different from the rest of the palace. Humble and, dare she think, human. Cushions and blankets enough for an army of loungers. Not so thoroughly cleaned as to be utterly sterile, like every room she had seen so far. Ash was far from the sort to notice mess and imperfections, but so rare were they elsewhere that the abundance in this room became worthy of profound note. A dark ring atop a table beside a lounging couch from where some drink must have spilt. A slight tear in an old blanket that ought to have been retired a lifetime ago, and even a streak of dust atop a bookshelf where the only books looked to be some ancient musings on the principles of shipwrighting and basic economics.
¡°If you would sit here for a moment, Champion. The Lady will be with you shortly,¡± Amadel said. She offered a seat atop some red velvet cushion across from a well-used armchair. ¡°Can I get you anything while you wait?¡±
¡°No, thank you. I will be okay,¡± Ash uncomfortably smiled as she took up her subtly designated seat.
Sujin took a seat beside the armchair and smiled at Ash as the other woman handed him a cup of tea. ¡°I will go and fetch her. Just call if you need anything,¡± Amadel offered before bowing away.
¡°You can go with her, if you want,¡± Ash quietly snorted.
¡°We will catch up later, do not worry. I would not abandon you here,¡± he chuckled.
¡°Well, is she your... erm?¡± Ash tried to ask. The words failed her, and Sujin looked at her as though he didn¡¯t know what she was asking. ¡°Your, you know...¡± She mimicked a slightly too obscene gesture rather than outright asking anything.
¡°Oh, heavens no!¡± He gasped at the action. ¡°There is no,¡± he washed a hand in her direction, ¡°squishing going on, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±
¡°No?¡±
¡°Absolutely not,¡± he declared.
¡°Seems a shame, she¡¯s cute.¡±
¡°Then, by all means, have at her. She is a dear and cherished friend. My oldest and greatest confidant. Close enough to a sister,¡± he shuddered. ¡°I shall not reduce her by saying ¡®and that is all we are¡¯ for a dearest friend is more than a simple lover.¡±
¡°Okay, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ash giggled. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to offend. I¡¯ve just never met a man who wasn¡¯t interested in a woman like her.¡±
¡°And now you have,¡± he sighed.
¡°And now I have,¡± she repeated.
In some attempt to avoid the awkwardness that she had accidentally stepped into, Ash allowed her eyes to dart across the room in search of some conversation piece. She found it within the large framed painting that hung over the fireplace. Within it stood three people. An older gentleman, an older woman, and what must have been their young daughter. The child clearly took more of her father¡¯s looks than her mother¡¯s. The father, an eastern man with a massive beard and dark skin, wrapped his hands around the daughter who looked as dark as he, despite her blatantly pale mother.
The daughter couldn¡¯t have been more than fifteen or sixteen, though the painter had captured a strange lack of youth in her fiery orange eyes. Her flowing blonde hair had been held over her left shoulder and covered a fair amount of her deep red gown. She wore an ornate circlet, studded with rare gemstones carrying magical runes.
The mother, no doubt the lady of the house, wore a severe mask. The painter had captured in her gaze, a terrible power to condescend. She dressed in what might have been considered male clothes by Forgeland standards, though she adorned herself with fine jewellery and a face of makeup to mask the many wrinkles. Everything about her lacked vibrance. The jewels she wore held no tint, and were set into mirror-like platinum. Her clothes were a fascinating mix of beige and brown, with a single navy blue fogle... for contrast. Even her face, made up as it was, seemed utterly washed out and desaturated.
It seemed a brave choice for the artist. No doubt it was she who paid his wages, yet he made no attempt to enlighten her nor flatter her. Where her husband seemed to suppress a smile, and the daughter seemed rimmed by angel light, the Lady Macau herself was utterly grey and hollow, excepting one virtue granted to her. Her eyes. Though they held no passion, nor joyous expression, they were possibly the most striking piece of the artwork. Pure and bright emerald green.
¡°Is that the Lady Macau?¡± Ash quietly asked.
¡°Indeed, though this painting must be older than you now. I believe it was painted some, twenty summers past.¡±
¡°Are they all still... You know, ¡®about¡¯,¡± Ash awkwardly asked.
¡°No,¡± he sighed. ¡°Tis¡¯ just the lady now.¡±
¡°That¡¯s terrible.¡±
¡°It''s inevitable, really. In truth, the Lady thinks it to have been one of the best things to have ever happened to her, in a twisted kind of way. Though, I don¡¯t know that she believes that. After he died, Kraimer ¨C his name ¨C she grew somewhat... nostalgic.¡±
The idea knocked her sick. That she could ever consider the death of her husband and daughter to be not only a good thing, but the ¡®best¡¯... She wondered what kind of monster she was to meet. Then her answer came, and the door creaked open.
¡°My Lady of house Macau,¡± Amadel announced as she held open the door.
The striking emerald eyes of the old painted lady did not match with the amethyst of Ash¡¯s own. Instead, in came a radiant beauty with eyes of flaming orange and skin even darker and smoother than that of Ashtik.
She realised in an instant that the Lady of Macau was not the old mother, but the hollow daughter.
¡°My Lady, it is a pleasure to see you again,¡± Sujin said with a bow so deep, Ash thought he¡¯d hit his head against the stone floor.
¡°Enough of that, my boy. Come,¡± the lady ordered with her slender arms outstretched for a hug. Sujin smiled as he entered her embrace. He stood a foot taller than her, though Ash noticed it would have been closer to two-foot had she not worn heels.
She jokingly pushed Sujin away from her as her eyes came upon Ashtik. A beaming smile caught her purple lips as her flaming eyes narrowed into a squint. She opened her arms again, though Ash didn¡¯t so much as move a muscle at the invitation. The Lady snickered and crossed the space between them until Sujin chimed up. ¡°My Lady, I doubt she would be comfortable with that. They in Maester Veil tend to take physical contact as an intimate act.¡±
¡°Ah, I see. My apologies darling. So many cultures, I get the customs all jumbled up. Maester Veil... You aren¡¯t the ones who touch your noses together to say hello?¡± She asked with a terribly elegant air.
¡°My lady, that would be the Quiloks,¡± Sujin corrected.
¡°Ha, of course. The little mountain dwargons, ever so adorable. I had one on the staff for a time, but he was arrested for public indecency. A crying shame, he made excellent cocktails.¡±
She stepped away from Ash with a bowed head and a cheeky smile that only caught the left side of her lips. Her pure crimson and black gown flowed too long for her to properly step backwards, so Amadel had to hold it up as the Lady took her seat. She held a palm out and motioned for the others to sit, then she patted her hand on the cushion to her side as she looked towards the maid.
Amadel quietly took her seat beside the lady.
¡°So,¡± she quietly smirked. ¡°What shall I call you? Ashtik? Huntress, Heretic, Sparrow-Knight, Star-slayer, Lady of dreams, or simply the Champion of Black? Heavens, how do you keep track?¡± She asked with an extravagant giggle. Ash noticed her left hand tapping against the wood of her lounger, while the overlong golden nails of her right hand stroked gently through Amadel¡¯s hair. The girl seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, so much so that it no longer confused her why nothing had happened between her and Sujin.
¡°Just... Ashtik- or Ash,¡± she stuttered.
¡°Well... Ash,¡± the Lady breathed, ¡°After all you have done for me, you can call me Niamh.¡±
¡°I- Done for you?¡±
¡°Oh, yes. You have brought my boy home to me, and you have made me quite the sum of money. My two favourite things in the whole wide world, wrapped up in a pretty blonde. Lucky me.¡±
¡°Money?¡± Ash dumbly repeated.
¡°Yes, darling,¡± she sighed. Her attention fell for a moment towards her maid as the points of her nails found the nape of her neck and left her quietly squirming. Her head lazily rolled back to Ash, who struggled to keep eye contact. ¡°In the arena. Six-hundred to one. A little girl versus a mound of a man. How could I not bet on you? You were a sure thing!¡±
¡°You knew I was going to win?¡±
¡°I saw a girl, a third the size of her opponent, and I knew the look in her eye. She wasn¡¯t scared; she was thinking. A woman¡¯s weapon, I''m sure you agree. Any warrior who fights with thought is the victor in all battles. Naturally, I persisted in betting on you until the final bout, where I am sorry, but I did bet against you. Though in truth, I might say betting against you was a mistake,¡± she calmly considered.
¡°But I lost the finale. You were right too,¡± Ash nearly whispered.
¡°Indeed, yet it seemed to me a... final defeat.¡±
¡°I... Thank you, but I¡¯m sure I have plenty of defeats to come,¡± Ash meekly protested. Her eyes couldn¡¯t help but affix to the display at Niamh¡¯s side. The maid put a visible effort in seeming collected, though it was a blatant effort as the Lady stroked along the side of her neck.
It seemed the Lady noticed Ash¡¯s gaze, and doubled her efforts under the spectation. She brought her hand high and rustled through the dark mess of hair, circling the point of her nail effortlessly. Then, she brought her hand back down and wrapped her nails around the woman¡¯s neck. It almost looked threatening, though the noise made by the maid was certainly not in protest.
¡°You do not seem the political type, Ash,¡± Niamh whispered. ¡°I doubt it was even your idea to come and meet me, despite the obvious wisdom in it.¡± The lady drew her hand back and the maid followed it without thought. She chased the hand far enough that she had her head nestled against Niamh¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You will need someone to... aid you, in that realm. This is why you are here, no?¡±
¡°I... I don¡¯t know,¡± Ash admitted. ¡°I need help getting the king¡¯s support.¡±
¡°Excellent,¡± she sighed, ¡°and I can be that help. It must be fate that your Goden brought you to me, darling. Allow me to act on your behalf. I shall help you forge alliances across the world.¡± She returned her hand to the maid¡¯s scalp and continued in her affections.
¡°And what do you want in return?¡± Ash asked.
¡°To save the world, darling. If I make a pretty penny along the way, so be it.¡±
¡°You want to profit off of me?¡±
¡°Everyone does, that¡¯s what politics is; making money off of people rather than products. What¡¯s wrong with profiting off the Black Prophet?¡± She smiled. ¡°Oh, look at that, another name to add to the collection. You¡¯re half as greedy as I.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t-¡±
¡°-Somebody is going to profit, Ash. That¡¯s how the world works. All you can do is make sure that money goes to the right people.¡±
¡°And you are the right people?¡±
¡°Better I than a warlord, no?¡±
¡°At least I know what a warlord is gonna do with the money.¡±
¡°I shall do what I have always done; I shall comfort my city. Do you think these arenas and marble roads are as ancient as the temples? No, the gods do not care to expend their power here, so I expended mine. I gave the city new altars to pray at. Taverns for comfort, portals to show them the world, clothes on their backs.¡±
She bristled through the maid¡¯s hair much more feverously. It left her a shuddering pile of dough in the Lady¡¯s hands. Then, at the height of it, she suddenly stopped and left the maid to regain herself.
¡°Without me, the comforts of this city end. With you, these comforts can be afforded to the whole world. This ¡®apocalypse¡¯ can be something else entirely if we just seize it. With you at the helm, and me acting as a simple advisor, we could enlighten the whole continent! Maybe the entire world. Whatever you need, Ashtik, I offer. Comfort, control, money or men. I will take you to Raven Keep and have the king himself shine your shoes, if you wish it.¡±
The maid looked to her Lady with pleading eyes and a beaming blush, but received not so much as a glance.
¡°This is the price of my support, and it is a cheap one. I do not ask you to extort or ransom, nor shall I ever ask some immoral act of you. All I ask is that you allow me to forge you an empire of light,¡± she said with an utterly unabashed and pleading tone.
There were too many thoughts in her head. Too many considerations. Too many consequences. She knew that she needed alliances, and she knew that some would use her for ill gain, but she didn¡¯t know if this Niamh Macau was one of these villains.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she truly was so worthless in regard to politics. Maybe it wouldn¡¯t have been utterly awful to have an experienced negotiator on her side. Plus, Sujin seemed to trust her completely and he had never struck her as an ill-minded man.
¡°If I ever think you are... acting evil,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I must.¡±
¡°I understand. I swear I shall never put you in that position. Do we have an accord?¡±
¡°I hope so,¡± Ash nodded.
¡°Marvellous!¡± Niamh exploded. She jumped from her seat and nearly crumbled when she realised that she wore heels, though Sujin quickly caught her. ¡°Thank you, dear.¡±
Once she was straight, she turned to Ash and shone her half-faced smirk. ¡°I know your people do so hate hugs, but frankly ¨C and excuse the language ¨C that is bloody silly,¡± she said as she drew Ash into a deep embrace.
¡°Now,¡± she began as she withdrew and placed her hands on Ash¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I shall see where the duke¡¯s organisation is up to, and then I shall drag you away to design you some appropriate attire for a royal audience. Something that screams, ¡®single and ready for politically convenient marriage¡¯.¡±
¡°I, er,¡± Ash tried to protest.
¡°Oh, relax darling. You do not actually have to marry, I mean, look at me. Thirty-six and single... and not at all sour about it... Not even slightly... Ahem. Alas, the appearance of eligibility will make others more willing to open negotiations with you, even if it is not strictly true.¡±
¡°Oh, okay,¡± Ash simply replied. ¡°Do you... have any advice for me? Like, what I should bring with me, or what I should do to prepare?¡±
¡°What to bring with you... Well, castles are all built by men, I doubt there¡¯s going to be many facilities for when you get your blood. Lots of unused cloths will come hand-¡±
¡°-I meant politically speaking,¡± Ash desperately interrupted.
¡°Ah,¡± Niamh snorted, ¡°Of course. Well, all you truly require is that which is most important in life.¡±
¡°Food?¡± Ash guessed.
¡°No, darling,¡± Niamh sighed. ¡°Friends, family... Those you can trust.¡±
¡°That seems a strange thing for you of all people to consider as the most important.¡±
¡°Oh, darling. Some folk are so poor; all they have is money. I am fortunate enough not to be amongst them,¡± she said as she clung to Amadel¡¯s sleeve and shot a glance at Sujin. She drew a breath and puffed out her chest before declaring, ¡°Now, I shall be having Sujin for a spot of lunch. He has no choice in the matter. But Ash darling, I would love to have you too, if you aren¡¯t busy. Though I shan¡¯t be so presumptuous as to force you.¡±
Ash sought to act as her sister would. To say ¡®no¡¯ would be an affront, and yet Ash couldn¡¯t help but feel like she shouldn¡¯t interrupt this strange reunion.
¡°I would love to,¡± Ash started, ¡°but I am afraid I must... make away. My sister... awaits my presence from afar.¡±
¡°Ah, yes. Evara White-tongue. I¡¯ve heard tell of the young lady. She is the more... socially inclined sister, no?¡±
¡°She is,¡± Sujin answered as Ash scrambled to find some words greater than three syllables. ¡°With a fierce intelligence for her age, to boot. She and I spent the day at the library, I tell you she may so well have devoured the tomes, bindings and all. I truly believe the child will be Ashtik¡¯s greatest asset, whatever may come.¡±
¡°Fabulous,¡± Niamh clapped, ¡°know that the two of you are always welcome in my home. I would so love to meet this smaller, chattier version of you, Ash.¡±
¡°Thank you, my Lady. I will keep that in mind.¡±
¡°No, darling. I am not your lady; I am your ally. Maybe one day I shall be your first vassal? But until then, just call me Niamh. Now, off with you. I would be loath to delay the composition of your day.¡±
With a bow, Amadel ushered Ashtik away while Sujin and the Lady spoke of glad tiding and the adventures of Sujin¡¯s pilgrimage.
The majesty of the monastery was not lost upon repeat viewing. It was truly dreadful, in the way the word means when said before something unknowably and impossibly grand, and yet placed as though utterly mundane.
There was something there beyond just the marble and iron. An energy, a tension. Something in the vibrations of the air. The taste left by a thunderstrike, and the feeling that a lover was soon to be an ex-. Twists in her belly like the kicking of an unborn babe, and the lightness of head brought about by a round of bottled mistakes.
There was something missing. An abyss at the foundations. The throne of this goden lay dusty and alone. The priests worshipped at the absence of the very being that had ¨C just weeks earlier ¨C confirmed her as the Black Champion. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
It was he, Hevestiel - the lesser goden of iron - who had given her the words and, in those words, had told her future. ¡°The night¡¯s dreams have started; the victor will be left empty-hearted. They hold their dreams to thee, and leave you in misery. Ashtik Sai-Weleg, Sparrow-knight or white-hair. Thy shall hold a name for each star you darken, when the Champion of Black is made the greatest archon.¡±
She realised as she surmounted the great white staircase, that he had never said that she would win. ¡°The victor will be left empty-hearted,¡± she whispered. Her foe, whoever it was that sought an end to the world, would have to be empty-hearted to do as they were prophesied. Did that mean that Ash was destined to lose?
¡°Good morrow, young mae. Might you be here for the tour?¡± An overly jolly young lad asked. It broke her concentration, and the thoughts quickly fled from her mind.
¡°I- No,¡± she simply answered, making no attempt to match his almost giddy demeanour. ¡°I¡¯m here to see my sister. She should be with the healer?¡±
¡°Ah, the young white-haired madame?¡±
¡°I¡¯d guess,¡± Ash grunted. She did not mean to be rude, but she had had more than her fill of speaking with strangers for one day.
¡°Well, if you¡¯d follow me, my lady. I can give you the little tour while we walk!¡±
Ash offered him a mumble in passionless agreement but she did not wait for him to lead the way. She walked straight through the front door and held it open for just enough time that the young lad could hurry his way through.
¡°Well, this is the main entrance,¡± he said as though it wasn¡¯t obvious. ¡°Not an original piece of the temple. After the Champion war of the three-hundredth year of the twenty-fifth era, the front end of the temple was reduced to ruins by the Champion of Bronze... a now-defunct position, as I¡¯m sure you know.¡±
As reluctant as Ash was to speak to the young man, she was somewhat interested in what he had to say. Naturally, she hid her interest as to discourage any attempt at conversation, but she did consider everything he said.
She knew that some nations kept the Baliat calendar, but she wasn¡¯t sure how it worked, but that it tracked the world¡¯s path around the supposedly distant sun. Her own people had no need to keep time beyond a lifetime, so they would measure years by the winters of eldest memory.
Why one would need to measure to the three-hundredth year was beyond her. Nobody could remember that far back, and whatever could have occurred back then would have no more impact on her today than her meal choice, three thousand meals ago.
They carried on through the cold iron corridors into a grand chamber where a hundred priests stood with their heads bowed. They all wore beat iron crowns. The women wore crowns with spikes that pointed towards the heavens, while the men wore spikes that faced the ground beneath them. They all dressed in simple blue robes and not one made a sound.
At the centre of the hall, a smith worked away at her forge. She beat a new crown from molten iron while what must have been a new acolyte knelt before the anvil.
¡°This is the induction ceremony,¡± the boy whispered. ¡°Once the crown is forged, the acolyte must pick it up and quench it in the water. Only then shall they be inducted as a brother or sister.¡±
¡°That¡¯s barbaric,¡± Ash whispered back.
¡°It is their way. A show of will. Proof that pain shall not deter you from your devotion.¡±
¡°What if they fail? What if they drop it?¡±
¡°Then they must pick it up.¡±
¡°And if they can¡¯t? If the pain is too great?¡±
¡°Then a brother or sister will carry their burden. Another will quench the flame on their behalf.¡±
¡°Will the acolyte be kicked out?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Never. They will carry on their lives knowing that their brothers or sisters carry a scar on their behalf. There is nobody more loyal and devout than an acolyte who failed to quench the flame. It is that acolyte who later carries the flame for he who fails next.¡± The boy motioned out to the acolyte as they rose from their knee. It was only after he removed his hood that Ash realised it was a young man. Maybe a few years her senior with a thick and matted beard.
He walked in prayer over to the anvil, where the molten crown lay.
The crowd of priests chanted as he drew near, ¡°Goden of iron, lord of the forge. Wield our hearts, steel our souls. Blood and iron, blood and iron. Creation and destruction. Ice and ash.¡±
The man did not scream as his hands burst into flame. Instead, his prayers became song. Panicked and frenzied, but utterly focused.
¡°Blood and iron! Creation and destruction! Ice and ash!¡± He bellowed as he took his first step towards the ice bucket. ¡°My soul for you. My life for my family. Blood and Iron!¡±
He plunged the crown to the bottom of the bucket but seemed to find no comfort in the quickly boiling water. A jet of vapour sprung out and caught his eyes. At last, he screamed in agony, but he did not move. He stood with his crown beneath the water until it finally stopped bubbling and boiling.
¡°Shall we move along?¡± The young man offered.
Ashtik was dumbfounded. The young man had to have blinded himself for life. Nobody moved to help him, nobody so much as tilted their heads up from their prayers. It was not a display she could stomach any longer.
¡°Please,¡± she agreed.
The next hall was more like a school than a blood cult. Her guide excused himself as she entered before a round of children in fine silken clothes pranced through the corridor, playing at some war games. A tired-looking woman made after them, and begged for stillness.
A classroom full of teenagers, all around Evara¡¯s age, sat around and studied over some historical texts. Ash assumed that Ev hid amongst them, but the little white beacon was nowhere to be seen.
¡°Can I help you... Champion?¡± A somewhat familiar voice, with an completely unfamiliar accent, asked. Ash turned from the classroom window and saw, stood just before her, the bishop of steel; Satra, the woman who had first proclaimed her as a Champion.
¡°I, er, don¡¯t think you¡¯re supposed to call me that, Mother Satra,¡± Ash tried to joke.
¡°True enough. I am supposed to claim that you are the Heretic of Black and have my men run you through. Would you not rather we be a touch naughty?¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to get you in trouble on my account,¡± Ash bowed.
¡°We both know you are no heretic. A blasphemer, perhaps, but no heretic,¡± Satra said. ¡°But why would you come to this temple? Even if the Forgelands are neutral, this chapel is still technically part of the Conclave. If some of the more... zealous priests discover who you are, there may be trouble.¡±
¡°My sister is with the healer. She is supposed to be learning magic,¡± Ash explained. ¡°I just thought I should check in on her.¡±
¡°Oh, well worry not, Champion. The healer is far from a pious woman, she will be glad to meet you.¡±
¡°You make it sound like being pious is a bad thing. Aren¡¯t you a bishop?¡±
¡°Piety in and of itself is no virtue, and a lack thereof is no flaw. Kana has spent her entire life in pursuit of the study of magic and healing. In that, she is a holier woman than most priests. The gods are not so small as to treat a life of service and virtue as lesser, simply because it was done for the adoration of man and not the veneration of the gods.¡±
Satra motioned for Ash to follow her. They carried along the sterile white corridors until they came upon a winding spiral staircase. The higher along they went, the less clean and unnatural things became. The painted panels ceased as they came to the topmost steps and instead, exposed stone bricks that seemed as old as time lay. Every angle and corner had been smoothed and rounded by countless millennia of use. Once the metal staircase had ended, and the old stones became the only path, the ground seemed so smoothed and worn that Ash could almost see her reflection beneath the grey of the blocks.
A granite door, as old and worn as everything else here, lay at the end of the corridor. A dozen yellow glowing runes lay on its surface and Satra ran a delicate hand over them. Her hand acted as a paintbrush as a trail of emerald shimmers streaked close behind. It marked some new rune, which seemed to act as a password. Once complete, the shape forced the massive stone door open.
¡°Shut that bloody door! Cold as the hells in here and you wanna be letting in the breeze?¡± A cranky old voice called out over the sound of the opening granite block.
¡°Oh,¡± the woman grunted. ¡°Satra. What can I do you for?¡±
Satra bowed before the healer and humbly said, ¡°Hello, Kana. This is the Sparrow-Knight I bel-¡±
¡°Ash!¡± Evara joyfully called out from some obscure nook. Ash and Satra had to draw much further into the room before they saw her. Amongst a score of dusty old desks, she sat alone. The dreary, lightless room around her seemed to dull her ever-vibrant little face and mute the tones of her beautiful little dress.
¡°So, this is... the Black Heretic?¡± The grand healer slowly realised.
¡°Come now, Kana. You are not so foolish as to believe that,¡± Satra sighed.
¡°Never assume me to be anything but a fool! You will be astonished at how often I will let you down. You, Heretic, come here,¡± the old woman ordered.
Ash slowly crossed the room, her eyes clinging to her thoroughly bored little sister. This Kana made no attempt to be civilised. She stunk of something like mushrooms and looked as though she hadn¡¯t bathed within Ash¡¯s lifetime.
The old woman yanked Ash¡¯s gauntleted hand out and got to her inspection.
¡°It certainly is infused steel. Pure, utterly pure. I see the power reservoir, limited for now, will likely grow larger over time. Tell me, child: what type of magic does it channel?¡± Kana robotically asked.
¡°I... am not sure,¡± Ash admitted.
¡°Well,¡± the old woman frustratedly sighed, ¡°Does it ever glow... or explode... or do anything remotely magical?¡±
¡°Oh, yeah. It shoots lighting.¡±
¡°That would be magical then, yes,¡± Kana said with a force of effort not to shout in blatant frustration. ¡°But what colour? Red? Gold?¡±
¡°Black... sometimes purple. Well, mostly a mix... half and half, I guess,¡± Ash recalled.
¡°Oh...¡± The old woman choked.
¡°Is that bad?¡±
¡°Purple energy is that of power. It is by far the rarest and most potent source, but wouldn¡¯t be too shocking for a Champion of the Black Goden. It is the only directly destructive magical fount. Black energy, however... Now that is concerning.¡±
¡°Surely the Black Goden using black energy is expected?¡± Ash awkwardly asked.
¡°It''s not a brand, you fool. The black fount is the corruption that is inherent to all magic. It is what destroys the minds of mages, and pulls demons into our world. When any magical energy is drawn, black energy is created in reaction. It is the cancer of all magicians.¡±
¡°So I shouldn¡¯t use it?¡±
¡°You shouldn¡¯t be able to, not without summoning an army of demon spawn. This will require much study,¡± Kana said, mostly to herself, as she paced along the room.
A few minutes passed in silence. At some point during the discussion, Satra had managed to sneak away, though she hadn¡¯t closed the door behind herself.
¡°Excuse me, Madame Kana,¡± Evara meekly called from the back of the clearly unused classroom.
¡°Yes, yes, what is it?¡± Kana impatiently replied, wavering for a moment in her stationary marching.
¡°It''s just that, I¡¯ve finished my test,¡± Ev replied with an uncharacteristic timidity.
¡°Nonsense,¡± Kana dismissed, ¡°You have another hour yet.¡±
¡°Yes, but... I don¡¯t need it,¡± she said unsurely. Kana sighed as she made her way over to Ev¡¯s desk, but her doubt quickly gave way to awe as she read over the paper.
¡°I thought you said you were an utter novice? That you have faced no sort of tutelage in your life?¡± Kana accused.
¡°I- I am!¡± Ev insisted. ¡°I haven¡¯t been schooled, but for lessons in literacy by my village elder. I swear it.¡±
¡°Then how by the gods can you have possibly answered these questions? I have second-year pupils who cannot make so much as a guess at some of this.¡±
¡°My- My sister got me this,¡± Ev stuttered as she produced her novice guide from her carry pack.
¡°A novice guide? Outdated, but I suppose it has done its job. You have retained much, I am impressed. It seems you come from an extraordinary family. Tell me, do you have magical blood?¡±
Evara looked to Ash as though she had some answer beyond what Evara knew. ¡°No,¡± Ash answered. ¡°Nobody in our family has any magical talent, beyond Ev, obviously.¡±
¡°Fascinating,¡± Kana whispered.
¡°D- Does this mean you¡¯ll teach me some spells?¡± Ev begged with a poorly masked giddiness.
¡°Spells? Spells!?¡± Kana erupted. ¡°Child, we are not witches in the woods casting warts upon foul-smelling men. Did you not hear me talking about corruption? Every ¡®spell¡¯ has a cost, and is not to be risked by a complete novice. It matters not how naturally adept you may be.¡±
¡°But what about the forest?¡± Ash interrupted. ¡°She cast a spell then.¡±
¡°The forest?¡± Kana repeated.
¡°You didn¡¯t tell her?¡± Ash shrieked. Ev shrunk away beneath her books and did all she could to avoid her sister''s furious glare.
¡°Tell me what?¡±
¡°While we travelled here, my sister tried to enchant a rock. Something went wrong, and she erupted into a big... green... whirlwind of fire,¡± Ash recounted.
¡°That¡¯s impossible...¡± Kana said, but self-doubt ended the protest before it could part her lips. After what looked to be some deeply complex thought, she finally slipped a breathy, ¡°unless...¡±
She looked to Ash¡¯s gauntlet, and then to the young Evara - who yet hid beneath her books in hopes that she would be forgotten.
¡°Both of you, follow,¡± Kana ordered.
They didn¡¯t travel far. It took all her restraint not to remove her boot and throw it squarely at Evara¡¯s head as they went. It was clear that Evara could feel the burning leer as it stabbed into the back of her head. She was unsubtle in her attempts to avoid matching Ash¡¯s gaze, hiding her face and pacing far ahead of her sister.
They came upon a vast and empty chamber. Pale blue walls reached as high as the massive temple would allow. A rainbow of runes lined every few meters, with only a few purple symbols at the corners. Strange sconces sat beneath each rune and bore a stone carved face in each, only none of the faces were distinctly human. Some had two mouths, one over the other. Some had all too large eyes, while others had no eyes at all. One wore a cruel and sadistic grin across the wrinkles on the skin that should have been a left eye, while the right flowed with stone tears.
¡°All magic extracts a cost. All actions have a consequence. Allow me to show you,¡± Kana said with a deep and steadying breath. The old healer sat herself in the centre of the chamber. Her every breath echoed off the utterly devoid walls as she closed her eyes and almost looked in prayer.
¡°I will use a very simple magic. Champion, if you would present your spear?¡±
Ash drew Ser Stabby from his mount and placed him on the ground before the old woman.
Then, all at once, everything fell to silence. Not a breath echoed, not a footstep sounded and ¨C after a disconcerting moment of realisation, for the first time in her life ¨C Ash couldn¡¯t hear her own pulse.
Instinct forced her to pop her ears, maybe to make sure they were still there. It made no difference. She couldn¡¯t hear the blood rushing through her veins, nor the breath in her lungs.
¡°Tame Ignis roate. Ignis et Hevest,¡± the old healer whispered. Then the words weren¡¯t her own, but those of the walls and sconces. Whispered words that slipped between the cracks and seams. Curses of vile death, blessings of loving life. It was not so far from how it had been when the goden had confirmed her, only much more subdued. A dozen ghosts whispered in her ears and crawled along her skin as something... powerful encircled the ancient healer.
Wisps of crimson starlight sprung and danced like the ancient fae of her bedtime tales. They wrapped around Kana and bounced from her every freckle before coalescing within her open palms.
Ash thought that might be the end of it, but it was barely the beginning. She quickly realised what the old hag had been talking about. The wisps were the magic, and this next part was the corruption.
Black veins sprouted. First, from her throat, then along each of her arteries. It enwrapped her entirely as the blackness engulfed her whole and swallowed all light that tried ¨C in vain ¨C to escape her.
Finally, it reached her eyes. It was as though her pupils had suffered an eternity of utter darkness, and had evolved to dilate wider than her eyes could possibly allow.
The next part forced Ash to take back her spear as she shielded her sister. The corruption exploded from the old woman¡¯s mouth as twelve massive and hairy spider legs. They writhed and clawed at the open air as though they were desperately trying to claw their way out of the old woman. Despite the fact that it looked as if only the tips of the legs had erupted out, it still proved enough to lift the old woman a meter off the ground.
Ash stood ready to strike. She was sure something had gone wrong, until she saw the flailing body of the magician clasp her hands together. The action forced away the creature and powered it down, back into her throat, where the corruption slowly vanished.
Kana returned to her feet and drew what must have been her first breath, by the vigour of it. After a moment where all stood too confused to speak, she turned to the sisters with her hands clasped as though she had caught a butterfly.
¡°Magic,¡± she smiled as what she held flooded from between her fingers. It was light like they had never seen. The light of heaven¡¯s belt, only close enough to take in hand. It swarmed them like a wave at high tide. Ash floated her hand through it and felt the slightest resistance as the crimson comets crashed against her. ¡°And consequences.¡±
The surge spiralled back and gathered within the old woman¡¯s hands yet again. It came as an impossibly vast orb, like a room filled with nought but mirrors sealed within a ball in her hands. Infinity, sealed within glass.
Kana beckoned for Ash¡¯s spear, which she placed forth and allowed the tip to pierce the creation.
Once withdrawn, a sheen of beautifully patterned blue ice lay at the blade of her spear.
¡°Child, draw near,¡± the old woman whispered to Evara. The orb in her hands flickered in an instant from its crimson hue to that of a blue so deep and vibrant, the sunset might weep at the sight from sheer jealousy. Evara¡¯s steely little eyes grew near as large as the orb as the old woman split it. In her left hand, the great creation, in her right hand, its smaller offspring. She offered the lesser to the child who held her little hands out to receive it gladly.
It floated an inch over her hands. Little liquid sparks jolted from it to her the gentle flesh at her palms, though the sensation didn¡¯t seem to hurt.
¡°What do I do?¡± Evara asked with the single shallow breath she allowed herself.
¡°Whatever you want... You hold in your hands, the light of creation.¡± The old woman pulled a single strand of blue from her own orb and weaved it through the air into a great cloak of the softest fur.
¡°How- How do I do it?¡± Ev started to shake a little. It might have been fear or sheer excitement. A bead of sweat fell from her brow and scuffed over her makeup, before it dropped into the orb and burst into pure steam.
¡°Trust your instincts. This is magic, not science; what feels right, is right.¡±
Evara hesitated for a moment. She held a short breath, before furrowing her brow as though she had made some obvious realisation. Immediately, she blew against the orb like a late-night candle.
The blue orb shattered into a dust finer than any sand or powder. It twirled and sparkled on the imagined wind before spinning and twirling round and around. It was a gorgeous dance between a billion little dance partners. They pranced and spun down to the ground, where they melded together into a thick trunk. They continued on, and formed another trunk just beside themselves.
Evara was not passive in this. She looked like a grand composer as she forced a killer effort into instructing the particles on their very placement. She stitched together the very fabric of life as she joined the trunks together in what came to be a torso. She carried on without a trace of fatigue as she carved a face from the air. Kana¡¯s awe grew more and more apparent as Evara worked without a single failure, nor so much as a hair out of place. She seemed somehow prouder of the child than Ash.
With a final flourish, and a final burst of stardust, her monument was complete.
A statue of a five-meter-tall knight in shimmering ghostly blue steel. A warrior deserving of legend.
¡°Evara... Child...¡± Was all Kana could manage. She seemed even more drained of breath than the child did. ¡°The power required to create such a... masterpiece of a statue... I... Who are you?¡±
¡°Statue?¡± Evara repeated with a cocked brow. ¡°No, he¡¯s not a statue, look.¡±
She flicked a hand and robbed the warrior of his stillness. He took up his blade and flourished it before allowing it to come to rest upon his shoulder. He stood there, his massive plate torso heaving as he drew giant-sized breaths.
¡°Ev, that¡¯s incred-¡±
¡°-DISPELL IT!¡± Kana screamed. She jolted across the hall and wrapped her hands around the child''s shoulders, shaking her violently. ¡°DISPELL IT NOW!¡±
¡°Let go of her,¡± Ash viciously ordered as the old woman continued to rattle the young girl.
¡°CHILD DISPELL IT!¡± She repeated in abject terror with absolutely no regard for the elder sister.
¡°Okay, okay! I will!¡± Ev said as she pulled away from the crazed old woman. She raised her hands as to take up some instinctive action, but she was too late.
There was a screaming. Simple and quiet, not quite human. Closer to the sound of a boiled kettle. That was what came first, anyway.
¡°It''s not working,¡± Ev quietly realised. She repeated some strange action in a much more frantic way, but received the same result.
¡°The runes, quick!¡± The old woman cried. She rushed to a torch mounted against the entrance and lit the first carved sconce. The rune above it quickly lit with a vibrant golden glare. It was not enough.
The pale, almost transparent, blue of his armour shifted to a much darker and more sickly tone. The metal bubbled and popped while the warrior screamed in mouthless agony. He seized and shook like a man possessed by some violent illness. He creaked and writhed while his body burst into spores of black bile.
The legs, which she had realised were nought more than fingertips, burst from beneath his helm as his chest exploded into a visceral mess of tentacles and sharp little hairs.
The body of the knight became nought more than an inconvenience to the creature. It spread out far, its legs reaching from wall to wall and roof to floor. What had been Ev¡¯s creation hung limply from its oozing neck while it stood upon the legs of hellspawn.
The sickly and plagued green and black legs stretched as though they had been crammed within the knight for a decade or more.
¡°Get behind me,¡± Ash ordered. Ev ran to her sister¡¯s side, but the healer was too stuck by horror to edge away from her single lit sconce.
¡°Ash?¡± The little sister whispered.
The creature seemed to hear the plea. It decided upon its final form, and burst the body of its little warrior. A thousand, thousand rotating eyes all battled to get a glance of the vile Champion. The noise it made might have been a laugh, but it drained at her very soul.
¡°Light the runes... I¡¯ll deal with it,¡± Ash spat.
Chapter Twenty: Fear.
Is a thing terrible because of its capacity to harm, or is that terror drawn from elsewhere? A sense beyond the physical, a knowledge of something so fundamentally wrong that our mind casts it out and leaves only a hollow absence where the thing truly lies. Might such an empty pit, of such an incalculable breadth, be the bottomless feeling that comes of fear?
Do we fear the darkness because we worry something might hide within it, or do we know that it is the shadows themselves that seek to engulf us?
Metal scraped on marble as flame roared against the dark. This thing was manifested as a mound of rotten meat, but was by no nature a beast. What her spear sought was not a thousand-legged creature, as it might have seemed, but merely a thought left at the edge of a dream, dragged violently into this waking world.
It had no grasp of mortal movement. Its legs did not raise and lower to step, but the bones within crunched and deformed as to traverse the room. It did not bleed as it was cut but a measure of gaseous dread seeped from within its blackened veins and choked the breath from Ashtik¡¯s lungs.
If taken by nature; the girl would have no chance, but ever since the first flame was lit, nature has lagged behind man. The magician had torn apart the natural forces and threaded them back together within the tip of her silvered spear. The sheen of crystal frost along its surface was not simply for show. With a thought, it became matter. A wall of black ice erected before her. It encased one of the hundred, hundred striking limbs and she tore it from the central mass that couldn¡¯t have been its body.
She gathered some plan. This was a hunt for her, like any other. Her prey had a weakness and she needed to find it.
Its thousand flailing limbs seemed not to strike at her but out in spasms of random chaos. She could slash them down as they flung past her.
Her movements became those of a dancer rather than the huntress. She spun and flourished her spear. With the action came a path of ice and majesty, along which she twirled and battled against gravity itself.
She sought to close the distance; to find a heart to strike, to find a life to end. She came to realise that there would be none. This was not a monster; this was not a beast. It was not a bloody thing, nor some sack of simple putrid desolation. It was the sound made by a fallen tree in a vast forest, virgin to the ears of man. It was the final face we were cursed to witness before awakening from our blessedly forgotten dreams.
The tales she had been told so often as a girl. The monster under her bed, the skittering shadows that stalked her at night. She saw its hundred leering eyes, its thousand grasping hands, its insatiable need to expand; explore. She knew this... thing, was a Demon of Wonder. The aspect of curiosity - mangled and corrupted into something beyond reasoning.
It did not strike out its legs as to harm Ashtik, but simply because it sought to feel new and distant places. All the same, its legs and limbs struck out one after the other and each threatened her with a gory end.
Little remained of the knight that had borne it. She could see his flailing body beneath the infinite dread at the nexus of prongs and tendrils. What remained of his magical ¨C steel clad ¨C flesh had begun to tear apart as the Demon clawed its way through his being and into the material world.
She had no idea how much of it had already arrived. If what she battled so fruitlessly was the head of the horror, or but a mere fingertip. It did not matter. She would allow it no more life.
Her spear slashed so quickly it shattered the air itself and rang out a thunderous clatter. She tore the legs, the eyes, the mouths, and the mounds of bubbling flesh asunder with utter ease. She sliced as easily as though she were cutting through jellyfish by the hundreds. All in hopes of cutting out some obvious weakness - or at the least to buy time for Evara to light the sconces.
By the time she had battled and bound her way just ten meters forward, she was steeped up to her shins in bubbling pestilent fluids. Each broken bone and gaseous cut let loose a torrenting flood of ghoulish, putrid gel. With it, a stench beyond what could be made in the foulest of bogs.
It hurt worse than any strike she had ever suffered. She was part through a leap when it strangled the life from her. It was no attack to be blocked, no strike to dodge, but a sheer aura of everything dripping and gushing and pus-filled.
Ash fell to her knees - with burning tears in her eyes - within a moment of meeting the intolerable stench.
¡°I have to stop it,¡± she thought, but even her inner voice sounded breathless and ragged.
It would not take the thousand sprawling appendages, nor the rapidly growing man-like maws, to strike out and end her. It would only take one, and it offered only one.
A single stem, closer to an ivory needle than any arm she had seen on a beast, elongated through the room. It grew in the same way a fingernail might ¨C spiralling and without goal ¨C only much too quickly. It crossed the space at the same pace she might have walked it.
Of all things to be said, this... thing, certainly did not draw pleasure from trying to kill Ash. It barely even seemed to notice that it was about to do so. Each other limb and leg still frantically dashed themselves against the marble and granite walls in what must have been an urge to flee. Its attempt to kill Ash seemed no more intentional or conscious to the thing than the pump of Ashtik¡¯s heart was to her own mind.
¡°Snowy...¡±
To say that dread froze her in place would be like suggesting that a layer of grit was all that kept statues from sprinting into the sunset. The impossible silence that followed such a simple word must have been the most powerful spell ever cast. That... or the bedtime tales her father had told her were true. The tales that Demons spoke with the voices of the dead.
That the Demon spoke... with her father¡¯s voice.
¡°Snowy,¡± it croaked. The voice must have been his... almost. ¡°Don¡¯t... hurt... me,¡± it pled.
¡°Dad,¡± she whispered. It was all she could manage; it was all she could muster. It was all she needed.
The gauntlet of black, oily, vile steel moved of its own accord. She did not wrap it around the creature¡¯s nail, nor did she move her lips as her voice forced the word.
¡°Sleep,¡± she did not say, though the word did echo through the halls and the power did seep through her outstretched hand. ¡°Return to me,¡± she did not continue.
A rainbow of flames erupted around them. Each stone-carved brazier took up their burning duties. Lights - of all flavours and warmth - flooded the granite chamber. Each hue battled for dominance, but in the end... all sank into the darkness, and all battled to cast out what lurked within.
Its flesh bubbled like a homely pot of stew. Its tentacles writhed like a lover¡¯s first exploration. It thrashed and clawed like a little pup, learning to play with its elders.
Golden runes lit in the air around it while a band of black lightning poured from her hand. The power coiled itself around the Demon and squoze tightly enough to pop a few of its eyes. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
¡°Snowy,¡± a voice begged from within Ash¡¯s mind. ¡°Please...¡±
She wanted to scream. She wanted to lash out and slaughter the monster in cold, cold blood but her body wouldn¡¯t let her. It kept her mind contained, and her form utterly ¨C and deathly ¨C still. All she was permitted was another single word, ¡°Dream,¡± but again, it wasn¡¯t her word.
The power at her hand magnified. It erupted and burst, as did the thing. From each of its almost-eyes burst a flame of black and gold. From the nexus she had imagined as a body; a flood of red liquid poured, and from each of the scars it might have called mouths poured a cloud of maggots and fluttering worms.
Then it fell silent... Utterly dormant.
¡°I-Is it dead?¡± Ash managed to ask.
¡°What never lived cannot die,¡± the magician whispered. ¡°But even gods can... dream.¡±
¡°You¡¯re saying it''s asleep?¡±
¡°It... must be. The runes did not do this. The power to put a Demon of Wonder to sleep... The power to summon one... Who are you? The both of you?¡± The magician asked, her words slowed by sheer awe.
¡°You already know who I am. I¡¯m the-¡±
¡°-Champion of Black, yes, yes,¡± the grand healer impatiently interrupted. It seemed the battle had granted her some new wrinkles to add to her inappropriately avaricious collection. ¡°That explains nothing!¡±
Ash cast the old woman - and her demanding questions - aside and turned to her sister who still stood over a brazier, torch in hand. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Ash asked.
¡°I- Ash... That voice. That was Da-¡±
¡°-That was a Demon,¡± Ash cut off. ¡°Nothing more.¡±
¡°But you know the stories,¡± Evara insisted. ¡°Beware, beware, the late-night song; for the Demons sing with the dead man¡¯s tongue.¡±
¡°It''s just a story, Ev. We¡¯ll send for Dad when we get to Raven¡¯s field. He¡¯s fine, I promise.¡±
She wrapped a gentle hand around her sister¡¯s flushed little face, but quickly pulled away when she noticed the abundance of greyish sludge in which she seemed to have bathed.
¡°Champion!¡± The healer angrily shouted. ¡°Answer me!¡±
¡°What answers am I supposed to have?¡± Ash cried back, just as frustrated as the old woman.
¡°Do you have any idea what your sister has done?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t blame her for this! You were meant to be her teacher. All risks are on your head!¡±
¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m saying,¡± the old woman shrieked. ¡°Evara, you created a living being. That knight was alive... Such magic requires not only an extraordinary amount of power, but an equally extravagant amount of preparation. Otherwise...¡± The old woman flushed a hand over the sleeping monstrosity and said, much more quietly, ¡°Otherwise, corruption takes root.¡±
¡°Why? Why did any of this happen?¡± Evara begged, clearly choking back a tear.
¡°Corruption... is the result of all magic. It matters not the scale,¡± Kana began, ¡°Practiced magicians, like myself, have spent years learning to combat it. It is the first thing taught to any novice. Humans are made of meat, not magic, so we typically only have to fend off small amounts. This tends to appear like a fever - or some mild fatigue - until we build up a resistance. Creatures of magic are attacked in full force from the instant they are born. They have no way of defending themselves. If you or I cannot defend ourselves from the corruption, the magical parts of our physical forms turn sour and act as a cancer. If a creature made purely of magic cannot defend itself...¡± She felt no need to finish the point. A simple gesture to the foe behind her seemed to suffice.
¡°Then why would you not warn her against creating life when you gave her the magic?¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Would you tell a first-time archer not to shoot down the sun? Would you tell a first-time miner not to split the world in half?¡± Kana scoffed. ¡°When I tell novices to make whatever they like, the talented make fireballs or snowflakes. The rest make sticks and clubs, not giant armoured - breathing - knights.¡±
¡°Is it so impossible?¡± Evara meekly asked.
¡°Ev¡¯s always been a quick study,¡± Ash added.
¡°A quick study?¡± Kana cackled. ¡°This is not... Child, to be this naturally powerful...¡±
It seemed a great effort went into devising some simple explanation. The old woman¡¯s leathery face scrunched into a little old ball of contemplation.
¡°Powerful magicians cannot have children together,¡± she finally decided to say. ¡°Not because they repulse one another, but because the child would have such a high natural capacity for magic that they would be attacked by corruption the second they are severed from their mother¡¯s immune system. The child would die in six months at most.¡±
¡°You¡¯re saying Ev should have died at birth?¡±
¡°I am saying that... once your natural power reaches a level greater than your natural immunity, you die. Not only must Evara have the highest natural capacity for magic I have ever seen, but she must also have the single greatest natural immunity. That is to say, yes, she should be dead.¡±
¡°But... She¡¯s not,¡± Ash whispered.
¡°Exactly... The corruption should be eating her alive, so why isn¡¯t it?¡±
It was a silent, and tense, moment before a little voice finally chirped up, ¡°My soul. That¡¯s why.¡±
¡°Your soul?¡± The old woman repeated.
¡°I heal. That¡¯s my soul magic,¡± Ev meekly pointed out. ¡°The corruption is eating me alive, and my soul magic is healing the damage before I can even notice.¡±
¡°But... You would have been doing that since birth. The stress of it would leave you bedridden for life,¡± Kana insisted.
¡°Which is why I was never as talented a huntress as Ash, and why I always had so much time to read,¡± Ev sighed as though the simple words had reframed her entire life story. ¡°The woods, Ash. After I accidentally used all my magic on the explosion, I was able to heal Sujin with ease... It¡¯s because when I drained my magic, I didn¡¯t have to fight the corruption anymore. I was free to use my power.¡±
¡°Gods,¡± Ash gasped. ¡°You were a sickly child, always stuck in bed. Even when you were well, you couldn¡¯t come out on hunts. That¡¯s why you¡¯re so much smaller than I was at your age.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve been dying since the day I was born,¡± Ev realised. ¡°And it made me more powerful than I can handle.¡±
¡°I...¡± Kana stuttered. ¡°Every breath would be a spell. Every step, an incantation. You live and breathe magic... That¡¯s... You¡¯re...¡±
¡°Brilliant,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°Does that mean... If we can teach you to resist the corruption-¡±
¡°-A lifetime of unrivalled experience and power, unbound and untethered. She¡¯d become the most powerful magician in history... and the sister of the Champion of War... This is not a coincidence,¡± Kana deduced with a measure of hesitance.
¡°You think this is part of the prophecy?¡± Ev asked.
¡°Steel will glance,¡± Kana breathily recited of the prophesy while pointedly looking into Evara¡¯s beaming little eyes.
¡°What does that mean?¡± Ev begged. It was only as the old woman¡¯s gaze fell from Evara towards Ash¡¯s gauntlet that Ash realised too.
¡°With a healing heart and a glance of steel... shall the first Chosen of the Dreamer cast out the dark one,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°It''s you...¡±
¡°What¡¯s me?¡±
¡°You are the chosen one. You¡¯re the Chosen of Black, the real Champion,¡± Ash realised. ¡°But I got in the way... I stole your destiny.¡±
¡°You¡¯re not making any sense,¡± Ev protested. ¡°You have the gauntlet; how can I be the chosen one?¡±
¡°The starlight wisp in the nameless forest. It would have hit you if I hadn¡¯t got in the way. It would have chosen you,¡± Ash said. Her voice sounded awed, but her eyes were filled with utter remorse. She had stolen away the greatness that she had always known Ev was destined for.
¡°That¡¯s why the white sparrow guided you to the gauntlet, while it tried desperately to escape me. Of course he¡¯d choose you, how am I supposed to forge a global alliance? All this time, I¡¯ve probably been holding you back.¡±
¡°Fifty-thousand years of prophecy... wasted,¡± Kana breathlessly realised. It was clear that the thousand shocks of the day had given up their grasp on her. All that seemed to grip her now was dread. ¡°How is the world supposed to survive... without the chosen one?¡±
¡°I-¡± Ev tried to say, but raw confusion stole away the words. ¡°No...¡±
¡°We¡¯ll find a way. Some way to make this right. I swear,¡± Ash promised. She wrapped her arms around her sister with little regard for the abundance of putrid sludge that yet clung to her clothes. ¡°We¡¯ll find a way...¡±
Chapter Twenty-One: Repression.
One-hundred and sixty-eight, such is the count of men ¨C masters and magicians ¨C required to undo a single accidental effort from a single fourteen-year-old girl. A circle had been formed from jade powder and black salt candles. They marked and crossed from each side of the room into a vast pale star. At the centre, a creature beyond terror. An abscess creation of a monster¡¯s nightmares.
No condolence was offered the child, but for wicked glares and whispered prayers. No comfort given to the impossible girl with the impossible power.
The old healer had ushered the Champion... and the Chosen, out of the chamber and back towards her dusty old classroom. The novice textbooks and juvenile assessments still lay undisturbed where Evara had left them. The sheen of dust still lingered on each crack of sunlight though the sparse candles yet acted as the main source of light.
They didn¡¯t linger in the classroom long. Evara was made to gather her books before Kana dragged the pair into her office.
Calling it an office seems reductive. In truth, it was a laboratory. Scientific equipment and ongoing experiments sprawled across the cramped room while spell books and ritual sites lay at seemingly strategic positions within the mess.
¡°Evara,¡± the old woman finally sighed. ¡°I cannot offer you so much as I ought to... but I can offer you this.¡± Her leathery old hands pulled a small burgundy silk cloth from within a pristine marble chest. She peeled back the cloth and revealed within a small circlet.
A silver rim with a single clear golden gemstone carved into its centre.
¡°We give these to powerful journeymen,¡± Kana explained as she gently placed it over Evara¡¯s long flowing hair. As soon as the crown touched her skin, a ring of blue runes lit within the metal bounds and Ev seemed to go lightheaded.
¡°Gods,¡± Ev sighed. She pressed her weight into her sister¡¯s shoulder as she tried to steady herself. ¡°Is... this how people are... supposed to feel?¡± She panted.
¡°Not quite,¡± Kana whispered, ¡°but it is closer.¡±
¡°Are you okay?¡± Ashtik asked.
Ev didn¡¯t answer for a long moment. She closed her eyes and drew some silent and focused breaths. After a while, she took back her own weight and looked to her sister, saying, ¡°I Don¡¯t... think I¡¯ve ever been better. It¡¯s like... I¡¯ve been dragging a thousand tonnes my entire life... and now I''m free. It¡¯s like my lungs have doubled in size and my heart has slowed to a crawl.¡±
¡°I believe the runes will lessen the strain by a small fraction. You should seek out other artefacts like this, the effect will stack.¡± The old woman collapsed behind her desk. She took her face into her hands and blinked away the excitement of the day.
¡°Thank you,¡± Ev meekly said. ¡°I... I have never felt this good before.¡±
¡°And I have never felt worse,¡± the old woman scoffed. ¡°Champion - if it''s even worth calling you that - I have something more to say to you. I would prefer that we were alone.¡±
¡°If you can say it to me, you can say it to her,¡± Ash snipped.
¡°She is a child. I would rather not.¡±
¡°It''s fine, Ash. I¡¯ll go gather my things,¡± Ev nodded. She bowed her head lightly towards Kana before departing the room.
¡°Do you know about the types of magic?¡± Kana asked once the door was sealed.
¡°You explained something earlier but... not really.¡±
¡°There are many sources for the magics. The type of magic I, and your sister, channel is called a ¡®font¡¯. There is the blue font, that of creation. The red font, that of transformation. The golden font, that of holy magic. Then there is the rarest and least useful of them all; the purple font, that of power,¡± Kana explained from beneath her lightly shaking hands.
¡°Power sounds pretty useful,¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°To a killer, maybe. There is no function to the purple font but as a means for death.¡±
¡°That sounds pretty useful for a Champion of war,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°But you are not the Champion of War, are you?¡± Kana sighed. ¡°You are just some... girl,¡± she said as if it were a slur.
¡°Maybe, but right now, I¡¯ll have to be enough,¡± Ash sniffed.
¡°Ashtik, I saw you using the black font against that beast. The ability to harness corruption itself... Imagine if Evara had access to that power. She would be a battery, supercharged beyond comprehension. Her already unimaginable power would be... infinite. She¡¯d be closer to a goddess than a girl. You MUST find some way to give her the mark... Seek out some power... I beg you.¡±
¡°If there is some way to give her this power, I would be glad to, but a dark fate awaits the Champion of Black. Even I can figure that out. I won¡¯t let her die just so that I don¡¯t have to,¡± Ash coldly said.
¡°But... It is not just about you or her. It is the entire world, child. If you give her the power she may die, but she will save the world.¡±
¡°That''s not a worthwhile trade,¡± Ash snorted coldly. ¡°Fuck the world. Ev lives, and that¡¯s that. I will fight to save Marash. I will give my everything to save you... But you can¡¯t have her.¡±
¡°You would let the world die... for one child?¡± Kana gasped.
¡°Do not mistake me for a noble hero, Kana. I will kill you all - one by one - if that is what it takes to keep her safe.¡± She paused to gather some kinder thoughts before her eyes fell to her feet and she said, ¡°I may not have been chosen, but I will fight and ¨C more likely than not ¨C I will die. If that isn¡¯t enough, maybe the next Champion will be better suited to the role.¡±
¡°But... if you fail... all will perish ¨C your sister included,¡± Kana whispered.
¡°Maybe, but if that¡¯s the case, then I won¡¯t fail.¡±
¡°How can you be so sure?¡±
¡°Because I won¡¯t let her die. It really is quite simple, to be honest.¡±
¡°You¡¯re mad,¡± Kana accused.
¡°I¡¯m driven,¡± Ash corrected.
¡°I... Pray that you are right, but I suppose I ought to prepare for the end. I have nothing else for you, ¡®Champion¡¯. Be gone now,¡± the healer ordered in a shaken voice. At no point did she look at Ash, nor did she make an attempt to pull her head from her palm.
Ashtik slipped away without a farewell. She sealed the thick oaken door behind herself before crossing the classroom over to her sister. Evara sat behind her desk and scoured over some ancient manuscript in silence. She didn¡¯t notice that Ash had appeared until her sister whispered, ¡°Are you ready to go?¡±
It caused Evara to startle but she quickly gathered herself. ¡°Aye,¡± she huffed as she packed away the old leather-bound tome. ¡°Shall we?¡±
¡°After you, my queen,¡± Ash teased. She stroked a hand against Evara¡¯s new circlet as she spoke. The girl seemed unsure if she ought to look bashful or proud, so instead she opted to look mildly miffed.
¡°Joke all you like,¡± Ev sighed. ¡°But you know I¡¯m rocking the regal regalia look.¡±
¡°Aye. You¡¯ve already got the gown and crown. All you need now is the attitude and a bunch of man servants.¡±
¡°Are you implying I don¡¯t already have a queenly attitude?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think queens cry when they get splinters,¡± Ash snorted.
¡°Right... It wasn¡¯t a splinter; it was a bloody stake! If I was a Vampris it would have killed me!¡± Ev whined, looking to the finger that had long ago bore the grievous wound.
And so, they left that little room nestled within that far from little place. They left a thousand times the weight they had entered, and yet with a thousand times the pace. Evara, the Chosen of Black, bound and bounced in a literal way that her restless mind had always yearned to be able to do. It seemed an effort of will not to jump down the hundred white marble steps ten at a time. It seemed nought but decorum and manners kept her from breaking into a sprint and dashing away into the horizon. Her lady-like nature strained against her first taste of the raw energy of unburdened childhood.
Kana had said the circlet would offer her a fraction of reprieve, yet it seemed like any more alleviation would strip from her the burden of gravity. That this was the result of a small improvement almost frightened Ash. How much of a burden did the girl truly bear? How much would she change without it?
¡°Ev, slow down!¡± She called out. Evara quickly cast the worry aside as she continued to bound down the steps with a face-cracking smile.
¡°Come on Ash! We¡¯ve gotta get back home. I want to get dinner started.¡±
¡°You¡¯ll start nothing but crying if you fall down the stairs,¡± Ash called again. She quickened her own step to match with Evara, but couldn¡¯t steadily catch up to her.
The crimson day had already begun to fade into the sapphire dusk. The shadow of the great port tower cast over the temple and blotted out what remained of the sun. The lively crowds of the previous day hadn''t waned in the slightest. They still shambled along in their half-drunken stupors. They still raved and cackled as they wore the insignias of their chosen warriors.
She wondered if she might catch sight of a little sparrow upon the chest of some young supporter. It seemed unlikely, but a slim hope held fast.
The duo followed along the shadowed trail. They followed a somewhat less direct route in hopes of avoiding the worst of the crowds. There was little of note on the path up until they came upon the old man tugging along an old hand cart.
¡°Amell?¡± Ev called out across a quiet alleyway,
¡°No Amell¡¯s here, dear,¡± Amell called back. ¡°Just good old Colin. How can I help?¡±
¡°Right, sorry,¡± Ev whispered, clearly embarrassed.
¡°How are you, Colin?¡± Ash asked as they closed the distance.
¡°I¡¯m feeling my age, that¡¯s for sure,¡± he chuckled. He dropped the two-wheeled cart and its wooden reigns clattered against the cold cobbled street.
¡°Quite the hall, Ser,¡± Ev pointed out.
¡°Aye,¡± he agreed, ¡°Just some bits and bobs. Should be helpful in Ravenfield.¡±
¡°Let me carry it,¡± Ash offered. She gave him no chance for protest and took up the cart in a single motion.
¡°I will take it, Spinny. It wouldn¡¯t be very gentlemanly of me to allow a woman a third my size to carry my load.¡±
¡°It''s fine. Besides, you¡¯re probably still hungover, even if you pretend you aren¡¯t.¡±
¡°Well... I won¡¯t lie; I am awful tired of pulling it. Thank you, Ash. How are you two?¡±
¡°You should have seen it, Amell!¡± Evara cried joyously. ¡°Or- erm- Colin.¡±
¡°Seen what?¡± he tiredly laughed.
¡°Ash... She defeated a Demon!¡±
¡°A... Demon?¡± Amell repeated hesitantly. He looked over at her, newly abashed that he had allowed her to pull his cart. ¡°What happened?¡±
¡°Well, we were doing magic and... I messed up,¡± Ev lightly put it. ¡°Long story short, a big flubbery thing appeared and Ash literally put it to sleep.¡±
¡°Ah,¡± Amell choked. ¡°That... certainly is a long story put short. Mayhaps you might elaborate?¡±
¡°Gladly! I¡¯ll have all the gory details when we have our dinner!¡± Ev enthused.
¡°Well... Dinner and a show, lucky us,¡± Amell chuckled.
¡°Not really a tale for feasting to, Ev,¡± Ash sighed.
¡°When else would I get chance to tell everybody?¡±
¡°Maybe don¡¯t,¡± Ash sighed again.
¡°Don¡¯t be silly! Everyone will want to hear about how you beat a Demon, surely?¡±
¡°We nearly died, Ev. Why would people want to hear about that?¡±
A shiver ran down Ash¡¯s spine as the memory of the thing finally caught her. It was as though the creature had been lingering at the edges of her vision, but she had refused to look at it until now. She saw its thousand gaping maws in between each cobbled stone. She saw its writhing, pulsing form in the fatty rolls of the lifelong drunkards marching around her. Each varicose vein and each drinker¡¯s rosacea reminded her of the stringy legs that had so suddenly shot out of the blue knight¡¯s mouth.
¡°But we didn¡¯t die! That¡¯s what makes it so entertaining!¡± Ev insisted. ¡°Tales of near-fatal escapades!¡±
The idea unsettled Ash, and she must have worn the feeling on her face. Amell gave her a single glance and knew to move the conversation along for the time being, though he was transparently interested in hearing more details of the day''s adventure.
¡°Evara,¡± he began, ¡°I like your new circlet. It looks enchanted, right?¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Ev said as though half a thought had just been cut off. Her eyes shot up towards the sky in what could have been an attempt to see her own forehead, but sense caught her quickly and she instead opted to run a hand over the metal band.
¡°Yes. The runes help suppress the corruption within me,¡± Ev mildly explained.
¡°I admit, my tutelage on the magics is limited, but wouldn¡¯t you have to be an experienced magician to require such a relic?¡± Amell asked.
¡°That... is also a rather long story.¡±
¡°Then I expect that this dinner shan¡¯t be a short one,¡± he laughed.
They carried on along the path for a while more. Amell and Ash shared occasional joking remarks while Evara¡¯s musings and tales made up most part of the conversation.
The guards in their southern armour gave them no hassle as they came upon the grand estate. Some remained stalwart while others graced to bow or salute as the trio walked past. The final stretch of the path was accompanied by a new sound. Not the cheers of adoring fans or the rushing winds of the settling day, but the clang of steel on iron. Rhythmic and steady. A hammer on an anvil.
They saw the billowing smoke before they could lay eyes on the hard-working enchanter. As they rounded the final bend, they finally came upon him.
Sujin stood alone in an open-air forgery. He clashed against some piece of near-molten steel over and over. He did not wear the fine apparel he had donned for his visit to the Ducissa anymore. In fact, it seemed from afar that he wore nought but his smithing apron. Closer inspection revealed that his sturdy leather pants were simply hidden by the anvil. It was true, however, that he had shed his shirt as he worked. She saw the rough cotton garb balled up atop a table on the other side of the forgery.
As such a mild man, she easily forgot that he had the build of a blacksmith. A sheen of sweat rolled over his impressively toned and muscled chest. She couldn¡¯t help but notice a single prevalent bead drop from his brow and pool atop his collarbone.
Even from a distance, he looked as hard and angled as the steel which he so purposefully beat. It did not suit his boyish face and almost meek behaviour.
¡°Sujin!¡± Evara greeted. ¡°It can¡¯t be safe working without a shirt on.¡±
¡°Ah, my apologies. I did not notice that you had returned. I will cover myself,¡± he blushed.
¡°Don¡¯t bother on my account,¡± Ev teased.
He turned around and scavenged his shirt. It was no less impressive a sight from behind. Through the toned muscle, he wore a couple of scars. Not the kinds of scars one would expect for a forger. Long straight slashes, like those given by a whip, lined his shoulders and across to his spine. Aside from that, his golden skin suffered some stretch marks on his lower back and the peak of a tattoo nearly escaped his trousers. Not enough of the design was visible for Ash to make any judgment on its nature. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
¡°I was just finishing up. I will bathe and join you in the dining room, if that is acceptable?¡± Sujin said. He wiped away a sheen of sweat with his balled-up shirt before he slid it back on.
¡°There''s no hurry, I haven¡¯t even started yet,¡± Ev replied, already making for the house.
¡°Very well. Let me know if there is anything I might do to help.¡±
¡°Oh, enchanter!¡± Amell piped up. ¡°Before I forget, I got you something.¡±
¡°Is... that so?¡± Sujin hesitantly answered. He looked to the old knight with a masked distain but kept a polite smile as the larger man drew near.
¡°Here,¡± Amell offered. He held a small rough spun cloth out towards the smaller man, who took it hesitantly. ¡°Something to... bridge the rift.¡±
Sujin unwrapped the cloth and saw what lay beneath: a small silver hammer.
¡°My,¡± Sujin gasped. ¡°I- Thank you, Amell.¡±
¡°Does it suit?¡± Amell asked.
¡°Indeed, I believe it will.¡±
¡°Then let''s test it out!¡±
¡°Quite,¡± Sujin said. Half a smile caught the corner of his thin lips while his eyes lapped over the simple tool. ¡°Ashtik, would you be so kind as to pass me the tankard from that shelf?¡±
She did so wordlessly. He placed the wooden cup atop his anvil and pulled a small circle of silver from a leather pouch. He seemed to consider for a brief moment before drawing a scalpel of the same material as the gifted hammer. He carved the image of a snowflake into the circle and pressed it against the tankard.
The hammer struck a single time but it was enough. The rim of the circle erupted into a fountain of jade sparkles. The sparks seared the edges of the silver circle until they melted and fused with the tankard.
¡°HA!¡± Sujin cackled louder than she had ever heard from him. He walked squoze past her and crossed the small open yard over to a nearly ancient well nestled between a pair of pristine sheds.
¡°It certainly works,¡± he chuckled as he filled the tankard with water. A sheen of frost spread out from the runed circle and wrapped around the mug, leaving the water within near icy cold. ¡°Thank you, Amell,¡± he said, much more genuinely.
¡°Of course. All things other aside, we are on the same side now,¡± Amell smiled.
¡°Her side,¡± Sujin agreed. He shot a strange glance over to Ash which she couldn¡¯t read at all. Empathy, maybe, but also something more... piteous.
¡°Well,¡± Amell nodded, ¡°I will unload my supplies. See you two later.¡±
¡°See you later, Amell,¡± Ash smiled. She remained in the forger hut for a moment while Sujin tidied some things away.
¡°Enchanter,¡± she finally said.
¡°Yes, Ashtik?¡±
¡°Is there... animosity between you and Amell?¡± She gently asked. He snorted at the question but regained himself and continued with his tidying.
¡°Yes,¡± he plainly answered, though he didn¡¯t look at her as he did so.
¡°Is it at an end now?¡±
¡°An end?¡± He scoffed. ¡°No, a rift this vast might be bridged with some great effort, but it will never be filled wholly.¡±
¡°Might I ask why?¡±
¡°I suppose he wouldn¡¯t be all that well known up north,¡± Sujin realised. ¡°But here... Here he¡¯s a bedtime story. The monster used to make children behave.¡±
¡°Really?¡±
¡°His campaigns of destruction are the reason the Forgelands are at war with the Bloodlands. Until he came, there was a stalemate. A peace, albeit tense. He was the blood queen¡¯s fist and he punched straight through the Forgeland¡¯s defences. Thousands died by his hands, and hundreds of thousands died in the ensuing war.¡±
¡°Amell is the reason you¡¯re at war?¡± Ash doubted.
¡°No,¡± he hesitantly admitted. ¡°He was a catalyst, but not the sole reason. War was likely inevitable but he made it immediate - unavoidable.¡±
¡°He regrets it,¡± Ash defended weakly.
¡°Indeed. I can see that. He also betrayed Queen Vias some years ago. It does not redeem him.¡±
¡°No? Then what would?¡±
¡°I... Do not know,¡± Sujin admitted. ¡°But it would need to be a feat worthy of the thousand corpses at his feet.¡±
¡°I see,¡± Ash said. ¡°Will this be a problem on our journeys?¡±
¡°I will never cause you any problems, Ashtik. His reputation, however. I do not know what will happen if you attend the king¡¯s summons with a war criminal at your right hand.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll cross that bridge when we come to it,¡± Ash said with a false determination. ¡°But for now, how are you?¡±
¡°How am I?¡± Sujin repeated. The question clearly confused him but he still didn¡¯t stop his cleaning. ¡°I am... well?¡±
¡°Is that the truth?¡±
¡°Of course, why do you ask?¡±
¡°Because I have been consistently dismissive of you. Because I have dragged you along on a suicide mission,¡± Ash coldly said. She walked crossed the heated forge and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, spinning him in place and forcing his gaze. ¡°Because you are a forger, not a fighter, and yet you were nearly murdered a few days ago.¡±
¡°Ashtik,¡± he mumbled. ¡°I am fine. I have purpose, and if I die, I die for my purpose. There can be no better death.¡±
¡°But you don¡¯t have to die. I have your vouch, I can just give it to you now. You have done more than enough,¡± she offered. Her voice remained cold and steady, but it must have been obvious to the man that it was a lie. That the ice in her throat was strained and forced.
¡°I am not here for the vouch, Ashtik,¡± he said ever so slowly. He looked deeply into her eyes as he said it. She realised that it was a look of confusion, as though he thought it was obvious he didn¡¯t care about the vouch.
¡°No?¡±
¡°I was at first, I¡¯ll freely admit it, but after all I¡¯ve seen in such a short span of time with you, how could I leave?¡±
¡°All you¡¯ve seen?¡±
¡°You walked into a magical inferno and left it utterly unscathed. You commanded a direwolf to do your bidding. You scolded a she-bear and tore a hole through enchanted steel! Not to mention the fact that your sister is easily the most naturally talented magician I have ever laid eyes on!¡± he enthused.
¡°So, you remain with us... because we are more interesting than a forge job?¡± Ash accused.
¡°I remain because I believe in you. I believe that you are the Champion of Black, and that if anyone will save the world, it will be you. Therefore, I must help you in whatever small way I am able.¡±
¡°In whatever way?¡± She repeated quietly.
¡°Whatever you need,¡± he asserted.
¡°I- I need to trust... someone, anyone... you,¡± she admitted.
¡°You do not trust Evara?¡±
¡°I am responsible for Ev. I need to protect her in every way. Sometimes that means protecting her from the truth, sometimes that means hiding when I¡¯m... scared,¡± she said painfully quietly.
¡°I... do not know what to say. I thought you... I did not think that you, well, liked me at all.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t mean to be a bitch. I just... I struggle. I need a friend, a real and equal friend. My Goden and his dreams have warned me a hundred times that you are going to betray me, but I need to know that he¡¯s wrong, that he can make mistakes. I have to trust you,¡± she whimpered.
¡°I don¡¯t understand, why do you want your Goden to make a mistake?¡±
¡°Because if he doesn¡¯t - if he is never wrong - then the whole world ends because of me.¡± Her amethyst eyes welled up but didn¡¯t burst. She gritted her jaw and forced her gaze to match his. ¡°If you betray me, then I¡¯ve killed everybody.¡±
¡°But you are the Champion, the chosen one. Whatever you do is by his choice, surely?¡±
¡°I am the Champion, but I was never his Chosen. The goddess that was supposed to give the mark to the chosen one made a mistake. It was supposed to be Evara... but I got in the way.¡±
¡°Then we know that gods can make mistakes,¡± he hopefully said, ignoring the revelation about Evara.
¡°A lesser god, maybe. Not the grandfather of existence. The Black Goden is one of the absolute trinity. Being absolute doesn¡¯t leave an awful lot of room for mistakes.¡±
¡°I- Do you know for sure that Evara is the Chosen? How could you know?¡± he questioned.
¡°The prophecy says that ¡®steel will glance¡¯. It means her eyes.¡±
¡°That''s... it? Of course steel will glance, it''s a war. Blades will glance from one another time and time again. Surely this is not enough to make any assumptions?¡±
The fire crackled behind them as it slowly choked away. A chunk of coal cracked and popped as Ash stood and thought on for a long moment.
¡°But... the gauntlet. It is powered by corruption; the magician said Evara would be like an infinite battery with it on. It must have been designed for her, right?¡± Ash seemed to waiver in her dread, but she didn¡¯t seem any stronger for it. Her eyes still wabbled with unshed tears and her lip still quivered with each word.
¡°In theory, any magician would act as a battery. They all draw from the corruption, Evara is not unique in this. Indeed, she is powerful, but that is not a typical trait of Champions. Your fellows are chosen, not born. The gods pick from exemplars of desirable traits, not from the most naturally gifted in specific fields.¡± Ash got the impression that Sujin wasn¡¯t so much as talking to her, but merely around her. She was witness to his pontifications rather than subject to his conversation. ¡°But the traits aren¡¯t always obvious. Maybe we could assess you and your sister to find a relevant facet that would be desirable to the Black Goden. Imagination? Melancholy? He is the grandfather of Marash, mayhaps family is his secret domain?¡±
¡°Sujin,¡± Ash interrupted.
¡°Yes, of course. My apologies. Do you have a note?¡±
¡°He¡¯s the Goden of dreams; let''s go ask him,¡± she said quietly though with a burning steel in her gaze.
¡°What is it I am supposed to do, exactly?¡± Sujin awkwardly asked as he sat atop his bed. It was a far sight from her own. Thrice as wide, though not nearly so ostentatious. A humble frame with humble sheets and not even a curtain to guard his resting modesty.
¡°Lie down,¡± Ash ordered. She walked to the basin of tepid water at the far end of his room and washed away some amount of the remaining sludge that refused to abandon her skin. She peeled away the outermost layer of her garments, leaving only the black felt undershirt. She quickly wrapped her lower half in a rogue blanket before peeling off her equally disgusting leather pants.
¡°Ashtik I-¡±
¡°-Yeah, don¡¯t get any ideas. I just don¡¯t want to soil your sheets with demon bile.¡± She poured one final cup over her hair before leaving the basin and walking over to the bed.
¡°Might you explain your plan? This seems... unideal,¡± Sujin politely asked. He shifted across his bed to allow her access before tentatively sitting up beside her.
She was much less rigid. Her wet hair bundled atop one of the sixteen or more pillows while she kicked her legs up next to him.
¡°I... sent a demon to sleep today,¡± Ash explained. ¡°An ¨C somewhat more impressively ¨C I forced my sister to fall asleep too.¡±
¡°So, you intend on putting me to sleep?¡± Sujin guessed.
¡°I am the Champion of Dreams, whether I was chosen for the role or not. I cannot believe my powers are just hitting really hard and really fast. It''s about time I found out, right?¡±
¡°Very well,¡± Sujin warmly smiled, lowering himself into the bed. ¡°What do you need of me?¡±
She did not know. It was not a power she knew how to wield. Truth be told, she wasn¡¯t entirely sure if the power was her own to control. Maybe the Goden, or the voice from the dreams, had possessed her and channelled their powers through her.
¡°Close your eyes,¡± Ash whispered. She propped herself up on her right shoulder and skimmed the bedsheets with her steel-clad hand. He followed her command silently. She watched his well-muscled chest slowly rise and fall for a little while. She did not know how to go about using her possible power but she hoped listening to his calming breath would open some locked away facet of herself.
¡°You know,¡± Sujin whispered after a short while, ¡°I didn¡¯t expect that the first time I shared a bed with a woman, that she¡¯d be clad in armour and demon guts. Rest assured; I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Ash snorted. ¡°I- right. You¡¯ve never... been ¡®abed¡¯ with a partner?¡±
¡°Well... Not a woman, at least.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± she repeated, only slightly louder. ¡°That is... common, here?¡±
¡°As my Lady of Macau is wont to say, ¡®nothing is uncommon for the bored and sporting,¡¯ and I am nothing if not sporting,¡± he said in a timidly jovial way, though he kept his eyes shut as he spoke. ¡°It was my understanding that you were also... ¡®sporting¡¯, right? I- I mean no offence, I simply gathered through the tales of spiders and gingers. Cara, was it?¡±
¡°Oh, I don¡¯t remember anything about that night. Especially no ginger Cara,¡± Ash awkwardly answered.
¡°But you do remember that ¡®Tebea¡¯, right? I heard you call out her name as you slept once during our travels. Not to mention the blush that caught you after Amell relayed her message,¡± Sujin pressed.
¡°I- guess. I honestly haven¡¯t given it any thought. Slightly bigger problems at the moment, if you hadn¡¯t noticed. Now come on. Sleep,¡± she ordered, and it was enough. He was asleep. Snoring and gape mawed. Utterly conked.
¡°Sujin?¡± Ash eked, fully expecting him to jolt awake and reveal that he was just pretending. He did not. He made no movement, but the quick jolts of a dreamer¡¯s eyes. ¡°It can¡¯t be that easy.¡±
She traced a metal finger over his cheek. It was as if she didn¡¯t believe it was truly him, but some facsimile placed in his stead. There was something there as her hard gauntlet pressed into the fat of his cheek. An energy. Something tangible, a thread that she could pull if she just...
...Plunged deeper.
She was falling. He was falling. The sky was falling but the ground alone held the power to soar and climb. It rushed to meet them, a solid and immovable bedrock of diamond and marble. That was, until her feet made their first contact and the diamond turned to water while the marble turned to snow. She plunged a mile deep before she could manage a grasping, clawing stroke of her arm. It couldn¡¯t be called swimming; flailing might even be all too kind. Her arms fludged about like a gelatinous slime. They seemed as fluid as the waters in which she drowned, and utterly useless as a means for escape.
¡°Breathe,¡± something whispered. It was a useless order. How could she breathe a mile underwater?
¡°Just breathe,¡± it repeated. It was neither the voice of a man nor a woman. It mightn''t have even been a voice in a true sense. It felt like an instinct made manifest. Some sixth sense calling out through her mind and body. It was something true and more importantly, it was something she could trust.
There is a sound nature loves most. It is the first breath drawn by a newborn. It is the wailing cry of a healthy babe of any kind. It is birth, and rebirth.
One after another, after another. The ecstasy of oxygen, lost to those who take it for granted, unrivalled in explosive pleasure. A breath of water deeper than her lungs ought to physically allow.
¡°You are okay,¡± the instinct called. There were no words to the instinct, but the warmth of a mother¡¯s embrace. A feeling she ought not to have known, and yet somehow, she recognised it in an instant. ¡°You are afraid. You are alone. You are not true and yet, you are okay,¡± the feeling lingered. It was nothing external, not a message from her Goden, but a truth within herself.
¡°Am I the Chosen?¡± Ash cried out, her words catching in bubbles beneath the waves.
¡°No,¡± she knew.
¡°Can I save them anyway?¡± She pressed.
¡°That is up to you.¡±
¡°But the prophesy?¡±
¡°Was wrong. Nobody is Chosen. Ashtik can be the Champion. Ashtik can be the Heretic. Ashtik is nobody.¡±
¡°So, it can be me? I can do this?¡±
¡°Nobody is Chosen. Maedri is nobody. Amell is nobody. Sujin is nobody. Evara is nobody. Tilak was nobody.¡±
Then a voice broke her silence. A man¡¯s voice. ¡°Ashtik!¡± It was the enchanter, the forger and the betrayer.
¡°Sujin?¡± She called out through the boundless waves.
¡°Wake up!¡± he demanded.
¡°Kill him,¡± the urge demanded in turn. She felt herself barrelling through the waters until she was an inch from him. ¡°Kill him,¡± the urge persisted. ¡°Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!¡± it screamed, and she knew it was right. He had to die; he was the traitor and he would betray her.
¡°Wake up,¡± he pled. He¡¯d have fallen to his knees had they stood on land. Instead, he snivelled and begged from a meter beneath her. He¡¯d have kissed her shoes and begged the ground upon which she had trodden for mercy.
¡°Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!¡± repeated and repeated without end and without mercy. A spear formed around her hand. It readied and reared to strike his heart like a raging stallion, but it was her choice and under her control. She had to thrust. It was the only way to keep Evara safe. The only way to keep herself safe. She had to.
Chapter Twenty-Two: And The Roads to Power.
She clung to a burning coal and claimed it to be cold. She told the skies that the rains were dry and that the storms were but gentle autumn winds. She did this, not because of some grand will or abundance of pride, but because her Goden had told her otherwise.
Sujin, the enchanter, the friend, the burning coal and the betrayer. He had not been vanquished. Though his dreams yet consumed them both, he would awaken. Despite all advice and insistence, his traitor''s blood still coursed through his tainted veins.
¡°Ashtik,¡± he gasped as the spear drew away from him. ¡°What is this?¡±
¡°Just a dream,¡± she whispered back. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, just think happy thoughts.¡±
She could feel the silent thread pulling. It bound her to him; it kept her near his mind. A thought of a girl passed over the thread and then the girl became material. Amadel, the maid of Macau. Black hair and golden skin; dark eyes with a gentle smile. She crossed the crumbling horizon to kneel at his side.
¡°Happy thoughts,¡± he whispered as she dragged him into a deep and suffocating hug.
Ash stood a couple of paces back. The ocean that had drowned her was now a silver puddle beneath her feet. She dragged a toe along the surface and caused a ripple that reached out beyond what her vision would allow her to trace.
Then the ripple came back with a thousand times the power. A single mountain-high wave rushed towards her. It didn¡¯t seem to bother Sujin as he sat in the arms of his oldest friend, but Ash was not so collected. She would have screamed as it drew near, had she not fallen beneath the silver puddle before the wave could reach her.
¡°Don¡¯t panic,¡± an old voice urged from within a familiar nothingness. She knew where she had landed, and she knew what would come next. The boundless nothingness around her had grown all too familiar. She knew this void like the back of her steel-sheathed hand.
¡°I deserve answers,¡± she immediately demanded, taking no time to adapt to her surroundings.
¡°Yes, you do.¡± The old voice grew louder as his borrowed feet clashed against the imagined floor. She turned to face him with an angered twirl, though she hadn¡¯t realised how close behind he was.
Tall and towering, dark and muscled. Tattooed chains wrapped around his arms while a single green vine worked its way down his throat. A carefully maintained beard masked the scars he had gathered over a lifetime of hunting. This was how he should have been. How he had been, once upon a time.
¡°Dad,¡± Ash whimpered. She knew, deep inside, that it wasn¡¯t truly him but that didn¡¯t matter. It was as though she hadn¡¯t seen him in decades, though it had only been a matter of weeks.
¡°I am not,¡± he kindly said.
¡°I know. You wear his face though. The face I remember,¡± she sniffed. ¡°Does that make you a demon?¡±
¡°A demon?¡± he repeated in surprise.
¡°Demons talk with the dead man¡¯s tongue. He is dead, isn¡¯t he?¡± she asked with a tear on the question.
¡°I... It seems likely. I¡¯m sorry,¡± the man admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t think that I am a demon.¡±
¡°Then what? You claim you aren¡¯t the Goden. Are you the other voice? The one that doesn¡¯t talk to me, but about me?¡±
¡°Truth be told, Snowy, I think it''s quite simple,¡± he sighed.
¡°It is?¡±
¡°Aye. I¡¯ve been with you for some weeks now, but I was never meant to be. It has been hard adapting to you, but I¡¯ve tried. Now we¡¯re here. Now you¡¯re getting stronger.¡±
¡°You¡¯re not the god,¡± she slowly realised. ¡°You¡¯re the... gauntlet?¡±
¡°I mean, I think I¡¯m the mark. I suppose that is the same thing. It¡¯s probably high time we had a chat, hey kiddo?¡± He smiled broadly, though it wasn¡¯t Tilak¡¯s smile. It was an imitation. An idea gathered from watching memories of the man. His steel eyes peered into hers but she remembered how faded they had grown in reality. This imitation''s eyes were as vibrant and youthful as Evara¡¯s, but Tilak didn¡¯t look like that anymore. His steel had faded to grey.
¡°Stop talking like him. It¡¯s weird,¡± she quietly snipped.
¡°I don¡¯t think I can. I need an image, a person, to imitate. Otherwise, you¡¯d be talking to an inky little sparrow, right?¡±
¡°You think this; you don¡¯t think that. Do you actually know anything?¡±
¡°I know how you feel,¡± he smiled. ¡°I know you are scared and I know you doubt yourself.¡±
¡°Am I not right to?¡± Ash asked.
¡°We are always right to doubt ourselves. The only alternative is arrogance.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t need petty wisdom. I need to understand my place here. I need to know that I haven¡¯t destroyed the world.¡± She tried to step away from her false father but there was no ground beneath her feet upon which to walk. It did not matter that she somehow stood upon an empty void; this void would not allow her any distance from the old man.
¡°Does the world feel destroyed?¡± he smugly asked.
¡°Not yet... but it hasn¡¯t begun yet. When the war starts, will the world end?¡±
¡°It hasn¡¯t begun?¡± he scoffed. ¡°Are you so sure about that?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t see any great enemy I have to defeat.¡±
¡°Maybe you never will. Maybe this whole thing is just a great big misunderstanding. Wouldn¡¯t that be nice?¡±
¡°What are you talking about?¡± she pled.
¡°You say this hasn¡¯t begun, yet here you are, forging alliances and meeting kings.¡±
¡°In preparation,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Preparations... Action, it''s all the same thing,¡± he mildly said. ¡°It all services the end goal.¡±
¡°And that is?¡± Ash pressed.
¡°Power,¡± he hissed. ¡°The power to defeat a god. The power to change the world, or make it anew.¡±
¡°That sounds...¡± Ash hesitated for a heartbeat before finally settling on, ¡°Ominous.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve suffered many omens though. Most of them you¡¯ve deigned to ignore,¡± he said with a sigh. His shoulders slumped for a brief moment before returning to their natural broad position.
¡°You mean Sujin? Why does the Goden want me to kill him so badly?¡±
¡°Because he is the betrayer. Simple,¡± he sharply answered.
¡°And I should just take you at your word? He has done nothing even remotely ill yet. Does he not deserve the benefit of the doubt?¡±
¡°Ash, I¡¯m a part of you. Why would I lie? He will betray you and he will kill your friend. You need to deal with him.¡± He glared at Ash as he spoke. The steel bore holes through her. The softness that defined her father¡¯s gaze ¨C even at the worst of times ¨C was clearly absent in this man. He was harsh and he was cold. The steel of his eyes was not the steel of her father¡¯s, but the steel of her hand. It was armoured and armed. Sharp and dangerous.
¡°He is my only friend, who is there for him to kill? Amell? I¡¯d pay to see him try,¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°Spiders and clowns; eternals and crowns. You¡¯ll have more friends than any woman alive. He will put an end to many of them,¡± he swore.
¡°Then I¡¯ll just have to take that gamble,¡± Ash sighed.
¡°Why? Why risk it? Why not just send him away if his death is so deeply undesired?¡±
¡°Because then I can prove him wrong. I can prove that I don¡¯t need to be chosen to win this war.¡±
¡°You have no chance of winning! Not if you ignore us! Heed our words, Snowy. I beg you!¡±
¡°I¡¯ll heed you gladly, just not on this. Tell me and I¡¯ll listen, who am I fighting?¡± Ash dismissed.
¡°You¡¯re as foolish as you are necessary. Very well, I will hope to gain your trust. Maybe one day you will understand, I just hope that day comes sooner rather than later.¡± He sighed deeply and nodded. ¡°Do you feel that?¡± he asked. She did; the invisible thread. It pulled at her again, dragged her back from the void into Sujin¡¯s dream.
¡°We haven¡¯t much time,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°Answer the question.¡±
¡°You face the sister of the Black Goden. You face the Firestarter. The spark that set a world alight. You face she who destroyed two planets, and she who killed gods without thought.¡±
¡°What? How can I face a being capable of destroying entire worlds? How can I defeat something that can kill a god?¡±
It was hopeless, and the pit in her belly told her so. She looked down at her steel-skinned arm and tried to imagine how it could possibly stand to match, or exceed, the raw power of a literal god. She had faced a lesser goden once already. Hevestiel, he of the forge. He had looked upon her with more eyes than existed in the world. Armies of stone warriors, a million strong, had stood upon his shoulders and seemed oh-so ready for war.
¡°Don''t be afraid. She¡¯s not some omnipotent goddess. She¡¯s a wanting, seeking, dying thing. A woman and a person, not a spirit or some higher being. Her flesh can be sundered, her mind can be broken. Her heart is already shattered. All you are fated to do is help her die. Grant her that mercy, or she will grant it to us all.¡±
The thread tore her back. It felt as though she had been thrown through a brick wall, though she ripped only through empty space. She landed hard, not in the toe-high waters of Sujin¡¯s dream, but in the wrapped cotton of his bed sheets. A sheen of sweat rolled over the stubborn layer of monstrous grime that she had failed to cleanse in the font.
She jolted up, though it felt as though she were falling. A rush of wind scattered around her. She wasn¡¯t sure whether or not she had imagined it, until a cluster of books and pages fluttered around the room like the wings of white doves, scrambling away from some dire threat.
Once the pages had settled from their frantic flight, the room was silent. Not a noise but for the ragged breaths drawn by both present parties. The curtains did not flutter, though the window was cracked open. The floorboards and rafters did not creak, though Ash had grown so very accustomed to the sound that she mightn¡¯t have noticed it anyway.
She turned towards the only true noise around her. The steady heartbeat ¨C and unsteady breath ¨C of the man beside her. The man she had gambled all too much on. The betrayer; the friend.
¡°Sujin,¡± she whispered as gently a waking lover, though love was neither her purpose nor her desire. She sat up, ensuring to cover her modesty while she patted down some stray hairs. ¡°Are you awake?¡±
¡°I am now,¡± he whispered back. He peeled his deep brown eyes open and greeted her with a vacant smile. ¡°That was-,¡± he yawned, ¡°different.¡±
¡°Are you okay?¡± She asked.
¡°I am. Did you get from this, what you hoped for?¡±
¡°I... I think so. A name, if not a direction.¡± She rubbed a bruised hand over her face and wiped away the sleep from her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go bathe. I¡¯ll see you later.¡±
¡°I-Yes, I will see you later,¡± he replied as though there was more to be said, and yet he choked back anything beyond.
Evara white-tongue, Niamh had called her. A fitting name and one well-earned as Ash entered the group dining hall. Her hair still sopped from the bath, but her skin glistened like it had never done before. Maybe the entrails of eternal torments were good for the pores. Ev noticed her enter and a measure of confidence drained from the young girl as she recounted the tales of the day to Amell.
¡°Speak of the devil,¡± Amell chuckled. He set his cobalt eyes upon her as a beaming smile cracked from beneath his freshly pruned beard. ¡°Did you really strangle a demon with its own legs?¡±
¡°I- What? No,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think those were even really legs. I don¡¯t know what they were.¡± She shuddered at the thought of the grotesque thing.
¡°Okay, maybe she didn¡¯t strangle it,¡± Ev admitted, ¡°but she definitely kicked its arse!¡±
¡°I don¡¯t doubt it,¡± Amell chuckled. He held a hand out to a seat at the head of the table for Ash to take. She looked at him, somewhat surprised at the honour, but eventually set herself down.
The enchanter came in soon after, though somewhat overdressed for the event. He wore a black suit in the same fashion as the one he had worn to Lady Macau¡¯s manor.
¡°And how are you, Sujin?¡± Evara sweetly asked.
¡°I am well, thank you. Just recovering from my nap,¡± he replied, shooting a glance towards Ash.
¡°Tell me about it. Nothing more draining than a good nap,¡± Ev giggled.
¡°I¡¯d take you as something of an expert on the matter,¡± Amell grinned. ¡°Seeing how you slept through our first introduction.¡±
¡°Yeah, but in my defence, I did just blow up a forest!¡±
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.¡°Not to mention, us,¡± Sujin added.
¡°I¡¯ve apologised for that!¡±
¡°Well, judging by that journeyman circlet, I¡¯d guess there¡¯s no risk of a repeat occurrence?¡±
¡°Oh, heavens no. I¡¯m definitely going to blow myself up again. Just, this time it will be intentional,¡± she proudly declared.
¡°Wait, you seek to continue your studies?¡± Sujin almost gasped.
¡°Well, yeah? That was the whole point of the day?¡± Ev scoffed. Her dismissively confident tone failed to find her eyes. Her gaze fell from the enchanter towards an empty mug, which she pretended wasn¡¯t empty while she hid her face behind it.
¡°But... You have seen the consequences now. The demon... the corruption. You still seek to proceed?¡±
¡°Well... yeah,¡± she awkwardly repeated. ¡°I¡¯ll just be extra careful.¡±
¡°Careful? Evara, I know you¡¯ll be careful but caution isn¡¯t enough when you step into the mouth of a hungered beast. Step as gently and as slowly as you like; it is but a matter of time before its maw snaps shut.¡± He spoke pleadingly, but not demanding. He did not dare tell her what to do, but his eyes begged her to follow another path, whatever that may be.
¡°I-¡± Ev tried to start. She fell back behind her cup for a moment before looking at Ash. ¡°I have to try. I¡¯m good at this, I¡¯m actually good at something. Everything in me says I was born for this. I will be careful, but I will keep moving forward.¡±
A quiet moment passed. It didn¡¯t last long, but it gripped the room with a terrible strength. It was not the celebrants who broke its squeeze, but the doorway at the end of the room. The near-pink wood creaked open and allowed a woman to enter. Long black hair and an all too forced smile. It was Mei, her ¡®personal attendant¡¯.
¡°I hope I am not interrupting,¡± she mildly bowed.
¡°Of course not,¡± Evara smiled, clearly grateful for the distraction. ¡°It¡¯s Mei, right?¡±
¡°It is,¡± Mei smiled. ¡°The Champion has asked me to join you. This is acceptable?¡±
¡°The more the merrier!¡± Amell chuckled.
¡°Thank you, my lord,¡± Mei bowed again. She walked to a seat towards the far end of the table and struggled back a genuine smirk as Amell¡¯s jaw dropped slightly.
¡°My lord?¡± Amell repeated, dumbfounded.
¡°Your title remains applicable, no?¡±
¡°I- What title?¡± Amell spluttered.
¡°The lord scion-ship of House Fielder. Your lands have not yet been usurped, therefore you are still the lord of Heaven¡¯s shanty.¡± She allowed a polite curl to meet her lips. It was the mask she had hidden behind since they had first met, one she had let slip only when discussing Ash¡¯s Championship. Her true smile couldn¡¯t have been so... pleasant; so refined.
¡°You¡¯re not supposed to know that,¡± Amell coldly said.
¡°And yet I do, my lord. My deepest apologies.¡± She set herself down in her seat and looked across the table to Ash. ¡°I hope I have not offended. My... friends, tell me much. I assure you, I am no threat. All secrets told within my walls shall never leave them.¡±
¡°That''s... comforting,¡± Amell lied. He noticed that the woman did not look at him as she spoke, but at Ashtik alone. ¡°Do your ¡®friends¡¯ say much else?¡±
¡°Oh, plenty. I have many a tale to tell, though few of which I am permitted to. The Lady Macau, for instance,¡± Mei slowly said. She shifted her confident gaze from Ashtik for a moment and allowed it to lap over the shifting enchanter. ¡°One hears many tales of such an interesting woman... and the pets she keeps.¡±
¡°Ooh, juicy. Spill the gossip then,¡± Evara giggled.
¡°Gossip is mundane, my lady,¡± Mei protested.
¡°Gossip is the lifeblood of politics! Gossip makes the world go round,¡± Ev insisted.
¡°The world will spin without politicking, my lady. One ought to focus more on what makes it worth spinning. For instance, my Lady Champion, a tailor will arrive this evening. The lady Macau will send him. It seems likely she will be joining alongside him too.¡± Mei placed her palms flat against the old wooden table and a young maid rushed out, seemingly from nowhere, to fill her cup. The young woman then rounded the table and filled each empty cup, but for Sujin who held a hand over his own.
¡°How could you know that?¡± Sujin asked.
¡°My friends told me,¡± Mei smugly answered. ¡°Popularity can be a boon at times.¡±
¡°Why is she sending a tailor?¡± Ev asked.
¡°It seems she was displeased with our Champion¡¯s attire during their meeting.¡± Mei made a point of sniffing at that. It was she, after all, who had chosen the outfit.
¡°I thought you were dashing, Ash,¡± Ev insisted.
¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more,¡± Mei smiled.
Sujin struggled to pry his gaze from the woman. Everything she had said seemed to disquiet him greatly. It didn¡¯t take long for Mei to acknowledge his leer.
¡°Master forger?¡± She politely said.
¡°This ¡®friend¡¯... Who is it?¡± he curtly demanded.
¡°A friend might be generous. A colleague more like.¡±
¡°Who?¡±
¡°Now, it wouldn¡¯t be proper of me to divulge a dear coworker¡¯s identity. Worry not, I have friends in all rungs of life, your lady is not a focal point.¡±
¡°But you still spy on her?¡±
¡°She¡¯s a Ducissa. Everyone spies on her,¡± Mei snipped. ¡°Not that I, a lowly maid, am party to such criminalities.¡±
¡°Why would you reveal anything? Why tip us off that you have these ¡®friends?¡¯¡±
¡°She¡¯s trying to impress Ash,¡± Amell sighed, clearly bored of the conversation.
¡°She is?¡± Sujin asked.
¡°Aye, she¡¯s hoping that Ash will take her on as her spymaster when she goes to Raven keep.¡±
All eyes fell upon the dark-haired woman as she sat, stone-faced, at the end of the table. If they expected her to protest, their expectations fell flat.
¡°A Champion of Black will have - and need - many friends,¡± Mei coldly said. Her smoky eyes bounced between Ash and Sujin. The same look seemed both mocking towards the man, and sincere towards the woman. ¡°She will not need a spymaster, but a head maid with a great talent for making acquaintances.¡±
¡°That sounds like the same thing,¡± Ev scoffed.
¡°Maybe,¡± she admitted. ¡°And yet it is not. Champion, it is within my interests to see you win this war, allow me to help however I can. You will have greater and greater need of my services as time goes on, I am positive of it.¡±
¡°I know a thousand would-be spymasters,¡± Amell coldly said. ¡°And a head maid is easily come by.¡±
¡°And yet, I am ¨C I think ¨C uniquely adept in all matters required of a would-be queen. One might make a fine steward of me, or a tutor in more... subtle arts. The choice is, of course, my lady Champion¡¯s.¡±
For the first time, all eyes fell on Ash and for the first time, she was expected to speak. The almost offended look of Sujin pled for this woman¡¯s dismissal. The cold glare of the old knight advised caution while the youthful curiosity that burnt so brightly in little steel eyes offered no advice but complete faith and deference.
¡°There are many roads to power,¡± Ash finally said. ¡°I do not know which I tread. My Goden has granted me the steel of Amell¡¯s blade, the magic of Evara¡¯s mind, the deftness of Sujin¡¯s hand, and now... mayhaps the reach of your sight. So many have claimed that my path is a blood-soaked one, but perhaps if I can see the battles before they come, I can spare some of that blood.¡±
¡°Then you will accept my aid?¡±
¡°I will accept your accompaniment. I don¡¯t think I can trust you, but I¡¯m not a very good judge of character, so I will see how you act. I will see who you are, and if you are good, I will accept your aid. Is this acceptable?¡±
¡°Whatever I can do for you, Champion, I will. It is a vow.¡± Mei placed her palms together and bowed her head against the table for a moment. ¡°But that is for another time; I have spoiled enough of your meal, let happier conversations take course. We might discuss further as our trail unfolds.¡±
¡°Aye,¡± Evara groaned. ¡°I¡¯m starving and we spent ages cooking!¡±
¡°Right,¡± Ash snorted. ¡°Let¡¯s eat.¡±
A horde of maids and servants marched from within the kitchen. They each carried a platter and a bottle. The starters were an ornate fusion of forgeland meats in Xaoei style. Salted and spiced chicken wrapped in greaseless bands of pig back bacon and fatty strips of rambent meat. The pieces were each too small to call a meal but drew a mighty hunger into Ash¡¯s belly. The floating pepper that swirled over her tongue and the diced chilly that warmed her cheek left her ravenous, yet the dish left her intentionally yearning.
Her tankard of water was replaced with the first bottle; a light and bubbly strawberry cider with a single lime slice left at the side. Amell¡¯s bottle was gone in a swig, though it seemed as though it wasn¡¯t for the love of the drink. The old man¡¯s sun-kissed skin had grown bright red after the first bite.
¡°If meat burns, it''s not been off the flame long enough,¡± he tried to chuckle, though the sweat dripping from his brow seemed to hold back his usual gregarious laugh.
Evara smiled as she finished her own bite, ¡°Do they not have spicy food in Kovayesh, ser?¡±
¡°In Kovayesh, maybe, but I haven¡¯t been to Kovayesh in quite some years,¡± he puffed. ¡°The Bloodlanders prefer their meat bloody and fresh. More like to assume this is poisoned than seasoned.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind for future meetings,¡± Mei giggled.
The main dish of the day came soon after the first. Straight away, she thought it a loaf of bread, but once Evara - with her wicked little grin - sliced into it, she realised that a mound of beef was hidden within. It was not bread but some kind of brittle, flaky pastry. She sliced into her own and found a thick pink prize hidden beneath the concealing layer. Evara¡¯s seemed much darker than her own, and the girl seemed much happier for it.
¡°Do you like it?¡± Ev asked.
Ash looked out to her little sister, who seemed to be tracing each subtle reaction anyone made to the food. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you made it?¡±
¡°I- might have,¡± Ev said, nearly biting her lip. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t want to bias you. Tell me what you think, honestly.¡±
¡°It''s...¡± Ash sliced through the pastry and made sure to run it through some of the spilt juice before taking a bite. It was perfect. Juicy and warming. It melted on her tongue and spread to encompass each tastebud in a rosy melody of tender and buttery. ¡°Pretty good.¡±
¡°Yeah, it''s good,¡± Amell flatly agreed.
¡°You hate it,¡± Ev concluded.
¡°Yup, disgusting. Never going to be able to eat again in case I get flashbacks to the horrors of this dish,¡± Ash teased.
¡°You¡¯re mean,¡± Ev childishly huffed.
¡°I¡¯m also gonna devour every bite,¡± Ash smirked. ¡°And I¡¯m gonna ask for seconds.¡±
¡°Really?¡±
¡°Nah, I¡¯m gonna throw it out a window,¡± Ash laughed.
¡°I¡¯d ask you to rate it from one to ten, but I doubt you could count that high anyway,¡± Ev grumbled.
¡°I¡¯m only teasing you, it''s brilliant Evy. Ten out of ten, if that''s the bigger number?¡±
¡°Really this time?¡±
¡°Really, really,¡± Ash promised.
¡°It is damn fine,¡± Sujin agreed with an unusual fervour.
Evara made no attempt to mask her blush. She¡¯d have kicked her feet and twirled her hair, had she not made every effort to appear ¡®lady-like¡¯ despite the fresh colour worn almost proudly in her cheeks.
The meal carried on. The next drink was clearly not granted by Evara¡¯s choice. Ash knew it by distant scent alone. Vodka, straight and strong. Pure enough to burn buildings as well as throats. It didn¡¯t take a detective¡¯s keen mind, or Mei¡¯s supposedly vast network of spies to figure out whose fault this was.
¡°Thank you kindly, dear,¡± Amell beamed as his chalice was filled. He sipped it as though sipping water and the mischievous grin hidden behind his mug tipped Ash off that he had not requested the drink purely for the love of the burn.
¡°What is this?¡± Evara asked.
¡°Bad,¡± Ash answered. ¡°This is what left you so hungover after the baron¡¯s feast.¡±
¡°Ooh,¡± Ev sighed casually. ¡°Neat.¡±
To Ash¡¯s - and everyone else¡¯s - amazement, Evara downed half the cup in one go.
¡°What the fuck,¡± Ash groaned. She placed a hand over Ev¡¯s cup as a serving boy tried to top her up.
¡°I fear you¡¯re going to regret that, young Evara,¡± Sujin chuckled. He took a swig of his own, though quickly spluttered it back out. ¡°That¡¯s stronger than I¡¯m used to,¡± he admitted.
¡°Truly, I believe it is an import. I¡¯d guess, Telek Aob by the flavouring,¡± Mei suggested as she took a casual sip.
¡°Impressive! How can you tell?¡± Amell enthused.
¡°The Forgelanders use potatoes. The northerners use wheat. I believe it is illegal to brew in Kovayesh?¡± Mei listed.
¡°It is, but we did have a small black market for it. They mostly used cereals left over from the harvest.¡±
¡°Interesting, I¡¯ll have to acquire a bottle from a friend. Feel free to join me... anytime,¡± Mei said, her tone growing breathy as she went along.
¡°Gladly, provided you can acquire a bottle,¡± Amell said plainly.
¡°Then I simply must,¡± she laughed, covering her mouth with her sleeve. ¡°But as I was saying, Telek Aob.¡± Mei took a deep swig and focused her gaze back on her remaining crumbs of food. ¡°They ferment berries and fruits to make the vodka. In all honesty, I think they do it best. A vodka with actual flavour and texture. Their wine, on the other hand,¡± she exaggerated a shudder. ¡°One cannot imagine how sour a grape can be until one samples an Aobanic dry.¡±
¡°Something of an aficionado, are we?¡± Amell chuckled.
¡°No, dear, I¡¯m an alcoholic,¡± she smirked, her mask clearly slipping as the drink stripped her of her formality. It became clear, even from the other end of the table, that a red flush had filled Mei¡¯s face. Ash had heard that such could happen to Xaoei and Forgeland folk, but she had never witnessed it. Sujin didn¡¯t seem to share the trait. He sipped gladly, though not a hint of extra colour found him.
¡°A woman after my own heart,¡± Amell smirked.
¡°Dear, the heart¡¯s not the part I''m after.¡±
Luckily for all present, the two were separated by an entire table, though that didn¡¯t make the blatant eyeing any less awkward.
¡°Ahem, desert?¡± Ev coughed. It broke Amell¡¯s focus. He turned to the young girl at his side and smiled warmly.
¡°What are we having?¡±
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Sparrow鈥檚 Feathers.
There is a brief moment after we awaken. Our memories struggle to find us and our stresses lag behind us. Pain and worry exist, for some small while, only within our most distant dreams.
That is on a typical day, this was not one of those. This was a day without the bliss quiet of morning. A day upon which stress and memories were nothing in comparison to the blinding, straining pangs of pain which pervaded her whole being.
Her lips were chapped and dry; her eyes were heavy and her belly, torn into knots. The culprit, the one responsible for her pain, remained only in the scent of her breath. Berries and fruit and death.
A fine bottle of Aobanic vodka. Then three more.
She was not so terribly hungover as she had been on the day of the tournament, but she felt just as many aches and pains. The splintered training sword at her side revealed a flash of memory, but not one she was grateful for.
She saw an image of herself atop the dining room table in a mocking fencer¡¯s pose. Amell wobbled atop the far end, graceless and overdense. She could not remember the result of the bout, but she was sure she had suffered a jab to the ribs at some point.
Ash forced the damaged stick away from herself. It clattered against the stone floor with an unexpectedly loud ring.
¡°Stone?¡± Ash thought. Even her internal voice sounded drained, but it did raise a good point. Ash¡¯s floor was carpeted, not stone.
She peeled her eyes open again. It took a greater effort than she would like to admit, but she managed, and quickly focused her gaze out to the jade and marble columns that blocked out her vision.
She took a deep breath and focused her other senses. Warm and soggy, the sound of gentle waves and crackling flame. She reached a handout and found a puddle of perfectly warm water, then she realised it wasn¡¯t a puddle, but a bath. At some point during the night, she had decided to take a fully clothed bath and had failed to drag herself abed afterwards.
She made a sound like a groan, though it didn¡¯t come from her lips but from her belly. The last thing she remembered was the feast and yet she felt as ravenous as she had done beforehand.
¡°My lady, you are awake?¡± A meek, almost scared, voice called. Ash looked up to see an older woman in a maid¡¯s tunic, sitting upon a makeshift chair. She quickly rose and moved to help Ash to her feet.
¡°I- Yeah,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°How did I end up like this?¡±
¡°M-my apologies, my lady. Some of the male servants tried to carry you to your bed but they all fell asleep at your order.¡± The woman took some measure of Ash¡¯s weight but seemed somewhat too scared of her to properly support her.
¡°Gods, I¡¯m so sorry. Are they awake now?¡± Ash whimpered.
¡°Yes, my lady. All is well.¡±
They carried on out of the bathhouse and the older woman set Ash down on a wooden dining chair for a moment.
The room was in devastation. Dishes were scattered across the floor; runes were scrawled along the walls and emanated some kind of magical light; cushions and platters managed to find themselves highly unlikely locations.
¡°I am so sorry,¡± Ash cried. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we went so far.¡±
¡°It is not a worry, my lady. This is not your doing, but the doings of the party,¡± the woman chuckled. ¡°We all had a hand in the destruction, especially ¨C and to the surprise of us all ¨C Madame Mei.¡±
¡°Truly?¡± Ash doubted. A flash of memory came again. She saw flowing black hair brush across the floor as the woman was, for some reason, demonstrating a backflip. It must have been impressive enough for Ash to mimic the action, and by the large dent in the floorboard where she recalled doing the flip, Amell must have tried ¨C and failed ¨C to follow suit.
¡°What about the runes?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Well, after you ordered all of the household staff to celebrate with you, a few of the young men encouraged Master Sujin to show them some enchantments,¡± the old woman explained. She picked up a single apple that lay at her feet and threw it gently to the largest rune on the wall. Rather than bouncing off, the apple stayed in place. It was as if gravity faced the wall rather than Marash.
Ash delicately walked over and placed her hand on the sigil. It was as she had thought, a pull tried to force her hand against the wall but it was easy to resist. As she inspected more closely, her hair falling sideways into the wall, she noticed a set of boot prints higher up the wall.
¡°They were dancing on the walls?¡± Ash realised.
¡°They were,¡± the woman confirmed. ¡°Though the gods granted you the sense to keep your feet in the dirt, unlike your fair sister.¡±
¡°She went up there?¡±
¡°She did. Though she walked somewhat too far afield. She must have left the area of the rune¡¯s effect.¡±
¡°She fell? Is she okay?¡± Ash asked with a sudden urgency.
¡°She is fine, my lady. One of the young stable boys managed to catch her. I tell you, I¡¯ve never seen a girl go so red,¡± the woman cackled, clearly enjoying the tale-telling.
¡°Oh, I wish I could remember. What was his name? I¡¯ll have to tease her about it,¡± Ash smirked.
¡°I don¡¯t quite recall... Fabian, maybe? A good-looking lad though, she¡¯s got taste.¡±
¡°Ash, dear!¡± A booming voice interrupted. Ash twirled in place so quickly she might have snapped her own neck. When she came upon the burning orange eyes of Niamh Macau, a sense of shame filled her at the state of the room. A sense shared by the clearly startled maid.
¡°My, my... Quite the evening you¡¯ve had. I do apologise for my tardiness; I intended to arrive by the dead sun, but it seems rather fortuitous that I had failed. How are you, dear? Keeping well?¡± Niamh beamed. She did not look at Ash, but the floor before her as she took each step, careful to not trod upon any detritus.
¡°I- Lady- Niamh, I¡¯m sorry for the mess. We weren¡¯t expecting things to get so-¡±
¡°-Fun?¡± Niamh interrupted. ¡°I should hope not. If you had expected it, I¡¯d be offended that I hadn¡¯t received an invitation. Haven¡¯t had a good orgy in months!¡±
¡°O-Orgy?¡± Ash choked.
¡°Of course! I get it, a couple of drinks, some strapping farmhands, we all get a little inadvisable. Don¡¯t worry about it, darling! Just... try to avoid... ¡®multiplying¡¯, yes? It would make future political marriages so much more complicated.¡±
¡°I- Multiply?¡± Ash stuttered, utterly abashed.
¡°Oh, lighten up dear! I¡¯m teasing you,¡± Niamh smirked. ¡°Now, we have business!¡± She clapped her hands together as she crossed the last little gap between them. Her gaze climbed from the floor to Ash, and then to the large rune sprawled across the wall behind her. ¡°Oh, that boy is a menace,¡± she sighed, though her subdued simper seemed supremely satisfied by Sujin¡¯s silly use of his tremendously sought-after skillset.
¡°Maid, what is your name?¡± Niamh asked warmly.
¡°Sister Hui, my lady,¡± the older woman bowed.
¡°Lovely,¡± Niamh said as her gaze wandered the room. ¡°Might there be some... unbattled room in which my tailor might set himself up?¡±
¡°Yes, my lady, we have a dedicated tailor''s room,¡± Hui offered.
¡°Marvelous! Be a lamb and lead him along, he¡¯s just outside,¡± Niamh requested.
¡°Of course, my lady. Will you be needing attendance?¡±
¡°I will be fine, thank you, dear. I have brought my own girl. Now, Ashtik,¡± Niamh said, turning from the maid and dismissing her without a word. ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask why you are sopping wet, but I¡¯ll assume it means you are bathed?¡±
Ash had forgotten for a moment that she had slept in a bath, though she doubted very much that the drunk version of herself had been so gracious as to wash. It didn¡¯t matter, she had bathed before the dinner and doubted she needed to do so again with any haste.
¡°Well enough,¡± Ash timidly said.
Niamh looked her up and down with half a smirk and half a frown. ¡°Quite, now let us discuss what comes next. Do you have a less... busy area we might talk?¡±
¡°I think there¡¯s a library but I haven¡¯t been in there yet,¡± Ash admitted.
¡°I see. That suits well enough, dear. Shall we?¡±
She had hoped that the revelries hadn¡¯t made it into the library. The big red rune painted over the door strained that hope well, but once she opened the door, she found a nearly spotless room and a woman tidying within.
¡°My lady,¡± the woman bowed. ¡°Mistress Evara still rests, though you may wish to wake her. Her little nest is not an ideal sleeping post but she simply refused to part from her tomes.¡±
¡°Oh, she¡¯s in here?¡± Ash realised. The woman, who Ash also realised must have been this ¡®Sister Rosie¡¯ that Ev had been talking about so often, pointed out to a wall of old books and tomes off in a dark corner beneath the overhanging upper-floor balcony.
¡°Ooh, the great Evara White-tongue,¡± Niamh grinned. ¡°I imagine she will be far from prime condition, but I would oh-so love to meet her.¡±
¡°She¡¯ll hate that this is how she meets you,¡± Ash awkwardly laughed. She crossed the room and lifted a couple of books from the top of her sister¡¯s fortifications. ¡°Evy, time to wake up,¡± she whispered, though she couldn¡¯t see her yet. A little groan sounded out briefly.
¡°Morrow, Ash,¡± a tired voice eked out from within.
¡°How¡¯s the hangover?¡±
¡°Hangover?¡± Ev repeated curiously. ¡°I... Don¡¯t have one? Huh? Why don¡¯t I have a hangover? I can still taste the vodka, and I definitely blacked out... but I feel fine.¡±
¡°Really?¡±
Evara fumbled within her nest. A couple of books slipped as she climbed over the waist-high wall behind her, but she seemed otherwise graceful and balanced in her movements, almost more so than usual.
She presented herself in surprisingly good condition. The dress she had worn in the night previous seemed a little worse for wear; her hair was certainly matted and tangled, but otherwise, she seemed fine. Her makeup was still immaculate, though it couldn¡¯t have been good for her to sleep in. Her eyes were focused and bright and her natural smirk quickly shifted to a gentle and elegant smile once she noticed that she and Ash weren¡¯t alone.
¡°Forgive me, my lady. I am Evara,¡± she said with a curtsy. ¡°I regret that I am so unprepared for a guest.¡±
¡°Nonsense, darling. You¡¯ve just woken up after a feast, I shan¡¯t expect much more than a yawn and a gag from you. But I am Niamh, lady of House Macau.¡±
¡°Ducissa of the Forgelands and inventor of the hairpin. Charmed, my lady,¡± Ev said, leaving her bow.
¡°Oh, I knew I¡¯d like you,¡± Niamh smiled. ¡°I am glad to see your reputation precedes you.¡±
¡°I have a reputation?¡± Ev snorted gently.
¡°Indeed, a fresh one, I gather?¡±
¡°Oh, do tell. I¡¯m ever so curious what people say of me.¡±
¡°A terrible habit, dear, but not one I am unsympathetic towards. Let us say, they call you Evara White-tongue, the bard of Black.¡±
¡°The bard of Black,¡± Ev beamed, clearly fighting back a cackle. ¡°I could get used to that. But you are not here to discuss me, my Lady. Is there anything I can help you with?¡±
¡°Are you really not hungover?¡± Ash interrupted, her jaw nearly slack as she made no attempt to hide her appraisal of her sister.
¡°I- Ash,¡± Ev grunted, nodding towards the more pressing matters at hand. It took no time for Ev to realise that Ash wasn¡¯t going to stop focusing on the matter until she addressed it, so Ev begrudgingly said, ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m really not hungover. Don¡¯t ask how; I don¡¯t know.¡±
¡°My, I wish that kind of mystery would attack me every now and then,¡± Niamh joked.
¡°No doubt it has something to do with my soul magic, my lady. It is not a mystery that requires much thought,¡± Ev insisted, clearly hoping the conversation would move on.
¡°Right,¡± Ash said slowly. She didn¡¯t cease in her silent appraisal of her offensively unaffected sister but did permit the conversation to continue, saying, ¡°Why are you here, Niamh?¡±
¡°Ash,¡± Ev scolded. ¡°What she means to say is, how can we help you, my Lady?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t worry darling, your sister¡¯s curtness might be something of an advantage in the coming days.¡± Niamh stroked a hand over a loose hair on Evara¡¯s head. ¡°Pretty little rabbit, aren¡¯t you?¡±
¡°I- Thank you, my lady,¡± Ev said, trying not to blush.
¡°Hmm,¡± Niamh sighed, clearly deep in thought, as she continued to brush a hand through Evara¡¯s hair.
¡°Tell me, dear,¡± she finally began. ¡°Would you call yourself... politically minded?¡±
¡°I would hope to, my lady, but I am somewhat inexperienced.¡±
¡°That is what I¡¯m here for, darling. Now, how do you feel about... schemes?¡± She asked as though offering some naughty treat to a child.
¡°Schemes?¡± Ev dumbly repeated.
¡°Indeed. Plots and subterfuge.¡±
¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to hurt anyone,¡± Ev awkwardly said.
¡°Nobody does, that''s why we scheme, to avoid the bloodshed. Tell me, what do you know of house Donaleaf?¡±
¡°It''s... the royal House. Scion''d by the king, Asmond Vietress Donaleaf and his wife, Queen Tiber; formerly of House Umik, the grain lords of the southern duchy.¡± She took a breath as to continue but Niamh placed a finger over the girl''s lips.
¡°Excellent, I see you¡¯ve read up on your targets,¡± Niamh smirked.
¡°Targets?¡± Ev repeated, clearly taking umbrage at the word.
¡°Indeed. Everyone who has something you need is a target, that makes the king a target.¡±
¡°But I said I didn¡¯t want to hurt anyone,¡± Ev insisted with quiet confidence.
¡°And I will teach you to get what you need without spilling a drop of blood. A woman¡¯s way of waging war, little rabbit. Do not threat, target may be a dire word, but you are not an archer and you needn¡¯t loose any arrows.¡± She placed her hands on Evara¡¯s shoulders and forced her gaze. Her burning orange eyes seemed to glow in the dawnlight as the cresting sun diffused against her flawless ebony skin.
Ash chuckled to herself. If Evara was anything back in the village, she was an archer. Though she tended to be too frail for any bow of great draw, she would always hit her targets truer than any other of her fellow townsfolk.
¡°Your sister needs to rise. To do that, Donaleaf will need to be an ally... or a corpse,¡± Niamh coldly stated.
¡°But you said it would be bloodless?¡±
¡°Yes, that is your job, to ensure that he is an ally. When battle is inevitable it is always the fault of the diplomats. You will make him an ally or Ash will make him a corpse.¡±
¡°Niamh-¡± Ash tried to protest.
¡°-What do you need from me?¡± Ev coldly asked.
¡°Fabulous. The Queen, Tiber, has no daughters of her own but oh-so yearns for one. You will fill that hole. You will be the pretty, polite little princess she has always dreamt of,¡± Niamh explained with a strange focus in her eyes.
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Donaleaf is a warrior, a crafter and a general, but he is not a ruler. That responsibility, he delegates to his bride. She is a competent and sturdy queen and will be hard to crack, but if you place yourself as her adoptive daughter, she will tear her kingdom apart for you. She will ensure Donaleaf remains loyal and steadfast in any alliances with Ashtik. She will also act as a rather vital tutor in matters of courtly politics. Just ensure you remember where your true loyalties lie, yes?¡±
¡°With Ash,¡± Ev whispered, deep in thought.
¡°Indeed.¡±
¡°Ev, are you okay with this?¡± Ash asked.
¡°If it saves bloodshed, I have to be, don¡¯t I?¡±
¡°No, you don¡¯t have to do anything you don¡¯t want to,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°But I do! We both do, unless you want to wage a war?¡±
¡°Of course I don¡¯t want to wage a war, but I¡¯m the Champion, I don¡¯t have a choice. You do.¡±
¡°Then I choose to save lives,¡± Ev sniffed. ¡°No matter how wrong the methods may be.¡±
¡°We¡¯ll make an archon of you yet, dear,¡± Niamh smirked.
Archon. The word swallowed her like a fallen sky. Archon. He had said that. Hevestiel, goden of the forge. ¡°Thy shall hold a name for each star you darken; when the Champion of Black is made the greatest archon,¡± she recalled. Her heart skipped a beat, then two and three more. Did it mean something beyond what was said? Was there a reason Niamh had used such an obscure and yet meaningful word?
The conversation had moved far past the word by the time she had shed the feeling. They had spoken of the queen and her habits, the king and his desires, the war and its consequences. She heard none of it. The words passed through the meat she had left in the room while her spirit still resided within the place where dangerous thoughts bury themselves.
She clawed her way back out into the grim light of this scheming study. The first she could parse came from Evara. She asked, with a hopeful smile, ¡°Will you be joining us, my lady?¡±
¡°For a time, rabbit. I fear my duties yet remain within my city. I couldn¡¯t rightly allow the dukes to rule alone overlong; I might not have a home by the time I return. I will assure the king that you have my, and my city¡¯s, utmost confidence. After that, I shall leave you to make your own way, though I am never more than a messenger away.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
The two had sat around Evara¡¯s table and Ash had unknowingly joined them, though she sat at a noted distance.
¡°Do you have any other advice or wisdom for us?¡± Ev asked.
¡°Well, your sister seemed displeased with my last tips. I shall say that at the tables they will hand you a goblet of wine and a skin of water. Mix them.¡±
¡°Mix them?¡±
¡°Quite, it will make you appear more... lady-like,¡± she explained. ¡°The wine there isn¡¯t as strong as the spirits of your homeland, but it is a mark stronger than most. It is common for the men to drink it raw as a show of might, don¡¯t do that... Even if you can handle your drink better than them, you don¡¯t want to appear overly,¡± Niamh paused to find a civil word.
¡°Rowdy?¡± Ev suggested.
¡°Exactly. This is not the forest; a lady must be seen to act properly. Fun is measured and joy is tempered lest you be titled a... roysterer. That will close a great deal of doors, I¡¯m afraid.¡±
¡°So, I shouldn¡¯t look like I¡¯m having fun?¡± Ev tried to understand.
¡°Not at all, then you will be titled as a prude and excluded from vital social events. You should look as though you are ready to leave the revelries at the drop of a hat, yet you are more than happy to continue the festivities far into the night.¡±
¡°So, I should look happy to be there... while looking like I want to leave?¡±
¡°Exactly!¡± Niamh exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± she sighed.
¡°It does not, and yet it is what is expected. Trust me, that is the simplest of paradoxes involved in the courts.¡±
¡°But... how am I supposed to know how to act like that?¡±
¡°The same way you master any skill, rabbit. Practise. Now for instance; sit up straight, wear a half smile and flutter your eyelashes when you blink. You never know when a nobleman is watching, but you always want him to fall in love at first sight.¡±
¡°Why would I want him to fall in love?¡±
¡°A man in love is a blade out of its sheath. Wield him well and you can carve a path to the throne, just remember... we might oil our blades, but we don¡¯t stick them in ourselves.¡±
¡°There will be no oiling and certainly no sticking involved,¡± Ash spat, finally offended enough to speak.
¡°I think I agree,¡± Ev eked with a far-from-comforted grimace on her face.
¡°Of course not,¡± Niamh choked, visibly appalled by the idea. ¡°But the suggestion of it... Rabbit, I¡¯m not telling you to charm a grey old man, but find some boy of your own age and learn to influence him with your words. You¡¯ll find there is little they won¡¯t do for a pretty face like yours.¡±
¡°Ev, I really don¡¯t want you doing any of that,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Then don¡¯t,¡± Niamh sighed. ¡°Learn how to navigate the court with your arms tied behind your back. You are a common-born girl, Ashtik, Champion or no. They will distrust you; they will despise you. I only want what¡¯s best. But this is a matter for Evara to think on, not the reason I am here today.¡±
¡°Then why are you here?¡± Ash asked coldly.
¡°The greatest reason there can be! To try on clothes!¡± Niamh beamed. ¡°Let us make a ¡®girls night¡¯ of it!¡±
¡°I- I already have a dress for the meeting, my lady,¡± Ev timidly said.
¡°Ah, marvellous! Bring it to my tailor. We shall have it fit for a moonbeam of an angel. Go on now, your sister and I shall catch up soon.¡±
¡°Very well, my lady,¡± Ev bowed as she rose from her chair. She offered Ash a final affirming glace before taking her leave of the duo.
The tone suffered a terrible blow as the door shuddered shut. The beaming firelight eyes of the ever-gracious lady seemed to burn through Ash, but her half smile didn¡¯t waver in the assault. She let slip a single deep sigh and seemed to crumble into herself. The air of majesty, innate in her appearance, notably dulled as she slouched over and rubbed a delicate hand over her still-smirking lips.
¡°Ash,¡± she finally said, though it was said in a newly tired way. ¡°Forgive me. I hope you won¡¯t hold it against me if I am a little curt with you.¡±
¡°I think I¡¯d prefer it,¡± Ash answered, her hands dancing across her lap.
¡°Thank you.¡± Niamh stood and stretched out her arms as a little yawn slipped her. She did not return to her seat but sat atop the table much nearer to Ash. ¡°You need to give your sister space in court.¡±
¡°Meaning?¡±
¡°Meaning, she is a fantastically courtly lady, or at least she will be. But she is deferential to you. You are too... motherly.¡±
¡°You make it sound like that''s a bad thing.¡±
¡°Then my words have been chosen well,¡± Niamh sharply said.
¡°How can it be a bad thing that I take care of my baby sister?¡±
¡°She is not a baby anymore; she is a keen-minded woman.¡±
¡°My father once told me that anyone who calls a teenage girl a woman is trying to hurt her,¡± Ash grimly whispered. ¡°I saw that painting of your family, Niamh. I saw your mother, she did not look... motherly. I know what that''s like. I won¡¯t have Evara know it too.¡±
For a moment, Niamh struggled to mask some writhing expression. Offence, maybe, but twinged with something more than that. Her lips curled to a frown but her eyes sparkled and threatened to choke out the flame within.
¡°Okay,¡± Niamh quietly said. ¡°She is not a woman, no. I should not seek to place the burden of adulthood on her so soon. My words were ill. My point is, she is growing up. She needs room to become herself; become Evara White-tongue, not Evara sister of Ashtik.¡±
¡°What are you suggesting?¡±
¡°A condition of your alliance. When you meet with the king, tell him that you wish Evara to be taken in as his ward. She will live as a princess while you wage your wars. She will ingratiate herself with the court and learn to talk her way into the hearts and minds of kings and emperors.¡± Niamh slid herself further along the table and placed her hand against Ash¡¯s shoulder.
They locked eyes wordlessly for a moment before Ash finally, and coldly, asked, ¡°Will she be safe?¡±
¡°She will be all but the daughter of a king. She will have soldiers dogging her every step. She will have maids seeing to her every need. Yes, she will be safe.¡±
¡°Then... Okay,¡± Ash Lamented. ¡°It¡¯s not like I can take her with me when I go off fighting wars.¡±
¡°Good, I am glad,¡± Niamh crowed warmly. Her hand lingered for a moment on Ash¡¯s shoulder before the Lady pressed her weight into her. She slid from the table and steadied herself on Ash. ¡°There is one more thing before we dress you...¡±
She beckoned for Ash to stand, which she did slowly. Ash had thought her taller in their last meeting, but couldn¡¯t help but notice that she stood nearly a head taller than her now.
¡°You cannot call Donaleaf ¡®my king¡¯ under any circumstances, understand?¡±
¡°Why not?¡±
¡°Because he is not your king. If you call him your king, you will not be able to form an alliance as equals. He will only be able to offer you vassalhood.¡±
¡°But... we aren¡¯t equals? He¡¯s a king, how can I form an equal alliance with him?¡±
¡°You are the Champion of Black, that is greater than any king.¡±
¡°And he is the Champion of Iron. His goden may not be a member of the trinity, but he is no less important.¡±
¡°Do you know of a Champion¡¯s claims?¡± Niamh asked.
¡°Aye, the other Champions have a claim over a piece of land. The Iron Champion has a claim to the Forgelands, the Steel Champion has a claim to the Bloodlands... But there is no claim for the Champion of Black,¡± Ash pointed out.
¡°Correct, indeed!¡± Niamh clapped. ¡°No claim is known for the Champion of Black, but many prophesies refer to you as a monarch all the same! We can very easily use that to argue any claim we wish, especially if it is in service of saving the world. That means you are a threat to the Donaleaf throne.¡±
¡°A threat?¡± Ash repeated.
¡°You might have an incontestable claim towards any throne you wish, even his own. That is a power he will need on his side. With that ability, he might be able to hold a de jure claim over the Bloodlands themselves. The nobility of that land will have no legal course for rebellion if you subjugate them.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±
¡°With you on his side, Asmond can finally defeat the Bloodlands. With you against him, the Forgelands could possibly hang in the balance. I¡¯ll be sure to remind him of such.¡±
Silken strands of azure lace that must have cost more than her entire suit of armour, twisted around her arms and legs. Not a gown, but a dress. Shouldered and corseted. Tight to the breast and belly with more than enough room at the legs to walk, run, dance. Be it the tailor¡¯s talents or some trick of the mirror, but Ashtik the huntress ¨C for the first time in her life ¨C felt... beautiful. Not that her clothes hadn¡¯t been beautiful before, but that she was beautiful in this moment.
The harsh edges of her newly muscled form seemed as elegant and ¨C dare she think ¨C pretty as any little waif could hope to be. A slit along the side of the skirt allowed a view of her long, scarred legs. A sleeve of golden netting lay along her right arm, beneath the azure lace, and wrapped into a single black glove.
The garbs did not try to hide any part of the huntress that might have been ¡°uncivilised.¡± The red chains around her arms and shoulders were worn as proudly as her mane of freshly cut hair. The assorted scars and battle scratches were allowed to sit on her flesh unadorned and unashamed. Beneath her corset, which was shockingly breathable and supportive, the black velvet of her dress wrapped around her form and hugged her shoulders with a loving embrace. A window at her chest, small enough to remain tasteful yet alluring, exposed a blue gemstone set into a golden necklace that rested delicately over her tan skin.
Ashtik was not a woman for pretty things, but this... she could understand the enjoyment here.
¡°Absolutely not!¡± Niamh shrieked as she entered the tailor booth.
¡°She looks amazing,¡± Ev protested.
¡°I am well aware of that, rabbit,¡± Niamh fretted. ¡°But you are the Champion of War, did you listen to nothing I have said?¡±
¡°I thought you wanted me to look, ¡®single and ready for politically convenient marriages¡¯,¡± Ash absentmindedly quipped while she continued to admire the dress ¨C and the woman within ¨C in the mirror.
¡°Ev, do you think I look different?¡± She asked, paying little mind to Niamh.
¡°I- Yeah, you do,¡± Ev hesitantly answered, her eyes darting between the scowling Ducissa and the thoughtful heretic.
¡°How so?¡±
¡°Well, you¡¯re taller, right? You used to be like, a forehead taller than me. Now, you¡¯re like... a head? Plus, I mean... You¡¯ve certainly toned yourself up.¡±
¡°That¡¯s weird, right? It will be my twentieth in a few weeks, I shouldn¡¯t be having... growth spurts, right?¡±
¡°Maybe?¡± Ev awkwardly chuckled, still aware of the appalled lady at her side.
¡°Is it a Champion thing? Is he making me taller and stronger so I¡¯ll make for a better soldier, or is it just a... I don¡¯t know, late bloom?¡±
¡°I really don¡¯t think you¡¯re ¡®blooming¡¯, Ash. Maybe you aren¡¯t taller, you just look it because you¡¯re more toned now. It¡¯s no surprise you look more toned, asides. All the training and fighting you¡¯ve been up to and how little you¡¯ve been eating. Maybe ask Amell, he¡¯s seen it all a hundred times.¡±
¡°Yes, yes, very interesting. Darlings we haven¡¯t the hours in a day. Ashtik, you look stunning, but you are not trying to lay the king; you¡¯re trying to put him in awe. You need him to believe that you ¨C and you alone ¨C stand in the way of the apocalypse. That means steel, not velvet. That means breastplates, not breast... windows. Look ravishing on some far morrow, today you need to look villainous.¡± Niamh paced along the tailor¡¯s floor. She pulled her man aside and whispered quickly into his ear.
¡°Very well, my Lady,¡± the tailor bowed. He turned to the doorway and called, ¡°Amadel! Enough cavorting with Sujin, I need you to fetch the Champion¡¯s armour.¡±
¡°Of course, master tailor!¡± A breathless voice called through the open doorway, clearly suppressing a laugh.
¡°As for you, rabbit,¡± Niamh said in a quietly resonating voice. ¡°White and gold will not do. A gown will be fashioned. Violet and crimson... hmm, no. Violet, indeed, and something red though rather more suppressed. A mahogany or a sangria. Something subtle to draw the eye up to your pretty face. Those eyes as well... A dark smoky shadow to bring out just how striking and bright they truly are. Near black with a hint of dark eminence. Get started Jari.¡± She clapped her hands, though more so out of a masked excitement rather than a sense of impolite urgency.
¡°What¡¯s wrong with her white dress? I think it looks really good,¡± Ash sniffed.
¡°Good clothes warm the body; great clothes warm the soul. She must be striking and different from you, else she will be lost in your shadow, but she cannot deny that she is your blood. She shall wear dark colours so that she might stand at your side without clashing. Violet hues, that all shall know her purple-eyed sister watches over her at all times. It shall be a statement that says, ¡®I may be the blood of Black and yet that does not detract from the fact that I am uniquely Evara¡¯.¡±
¡°I am not ashamed to be Ash¡¯s sister, my Lady. I choose not to stand in the shadow of a giant, but upon her shoulder,¡± Evara whispered as she stroked a hand over a neat pile of folded materials. ¡°But I see the wisdom in your words. I will wear what is made.¡±
¡°My lady,¡± a meek voice called from the doorway. Amadel toed the threshold but came no further until Niamh turned to her. Ash couldn¡¯t help but notice that she didn¡¯t have her armour with her.
¡°Amadel, where is the armour girl?¡± Niamh gently asked.
¡°It seems that the armoury is... occupied,¡± Amadel struggled to say. The girl must have been deep into her twenties, yet she clung to the rim of her dress like a nervous child might.
¡°Occupied?¡± Niamh repeated.
¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. A knight, Ser Colin of... somewhere and a... lady friend. I could not enter in an appropriate manner.¡±
¡°A lady friend,¡± Ash chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ll go get it then.¡±
¡°Very well. Amadel, give her a hand.¡±
¡°Yes, my lady.¡±
Ash knocked about as loudly as she could. She held no desire to enter unexpected and stumble upon anything... additionally unexpected. After a short moment of wordless rustling within, Ash decided the time had come to open the door.
Amell sat on the floor and hurriedly attempted to clothe himself. He combed a hand through his hair and cooly greeted Ash with a strained smile. She ignored him, instead searching for his apparent ¡®lady friend¡¯, though she was nowhere to be seen.
¡°Morrow, Spinny,¡± Amell said, his voice hoarse and gravelled after a night of shouting and laughing. ¡°It is the morrow, aye?¡±
¡°For a little while yet,¡± Ash smirked. ¡°Lazy kids, always sleeping in.¡±
¡°Funny,¡± he grunted. ¡°Can I help you or are you just inspecting the household weapons?¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t even know we had household weapons, let alone an armoury. I guess Mei just wasn¡¯t a very good guide,¡± Ash smirked, raising her voice at the name.
¡°Not so loud, kid,¡± Amell whined. ¡°Be sure to let her know whenever you see her next.¡± He rolled back into a large clean square clean patch in the dust.
¡°Mhmm,¡± Ash mumbled, entering the room and glancing around. ¡°Amadel, could you do me a favour?¡±
¡°Of course, my lady.¡±
¡°We wouldn¡¯t want anyone sneaking in ¨C or out - of the armoury, would you keep an eye on the door?¡±
¡°Very well, my lady.¡±
¡°Thank you ever so much,¡± Ash gloated.
¡°Who¡¯s going to sneak in?¡± Amell groaned.
¡°Well, anyone could. Wouldn¡¯t want a miscreant getting in and... sneaking away without me finding her first.¡±
¡°What are you talking about?¡±
¡°Where is she?¡± Ash mockingly asked.
¡°Who?¡±
¡°Your lady friend.¡±
¡°I have many a friend, some of them are ladies. I am afraid you will have to be specific.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t have friends,¡± Ash cackled.
She glanced around for any sign of a hiding woman. She found a single set of footprints painted into the dust. ¡°Too small to be Amell,¡± Ash decided. She followed them along to a set of lapis blue curtains. She moved the left part aside to check behind, then she scoured the crates around it.
¡°What are you doing?¡± Amell groaned, his head buried in his hands.
¡°What happened to your cloak?¡± Ash asked.
¡°My- Oh, I don¡¯t really remember. It was a long night; I must have taken it off someplace.¡±
¡°Mhmm,¡± Ash doubted. ¡°So, you slept on the stone and dust all night?¡±
¡°I must have. Drunkards tend to sleep where they lie.¡± He finally crawled to his feet, his shifting eyes refusing to look in the direction the footprints led to.
¡°And you seem to lie where you stand. You are telling me that¡¯s not your cloak?¡± Ash smirked, pointing to the slowly billowing lapis curtain.
¡°That¡¯s a curtain, Spinny,¡± he chuckled.
¡°Mhmm, so you won¡¯t mind if I...¡± Ash moved over to the curtain and gripped it, ready to tear it down.
¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± the curtain whispered shamefully.
¡°Morrow, Mei,¡± Ash said, pleased with her victory.
¡°Morrow, my lady. Please don¡¯t pull the curtain down,¡± the curtain said, a little louder.
¡°I won¡¯t, I hope you had a fun night,¡± Ash giggled.
¡°Somewhat.¡±
¡°I¡¯m just gonna go ahead and grab my armour. I¡¯ll leave you... crazy kids alone now,¡± Ash said, barely masking a wicked grin as she passed by Amell.
¡°Not a word of this,¡± Amell begged in an attempt at a threatening tone.
¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Ash smirked.
As she came upon the door, a rustling sounded out behind her. Mei poked her head out of the cloak she had wrapped herself in as she slowly climbed down from the iron curtain pole. Once she arrived on the ground, it became fairly obvious that the prim and proper madame wore nothing beneath the cloak but shame and a clear blush. She hid herself behind an armour stand until Ash finally left the room.
Evara stood upon the podium. A patchwork dress gown of temporary pieces and hashed-together materials held loosely to her form. A beige mock-up of her true attire. A half-vacant expression faded as Ash walked in. A smirk beamed in the silver mirror as her gaze traced Ash¡¯s steps.
¡°So...¡± she urged. ¡°Who was the lady friend?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll tell you later,¡± Ash snickered.
¡°Ugh, such a bore,¡± Niamh laughed. ¡°But is that your armour? Marvellous!¡±
Niamh stroked a finger over the ridges and curves of her breastplate. She let the sharp tip of her golden nail clink against the cold black steel. ¡°A cloak, single-shouldered. A little sparrow on it. Maybe some fur lining around the neck,¡± she muttered to herself. ¡°And a gemstone. Something...¡± she hesitated for a moment before glancing over to Evara. ¡°Something steel and sanguine. A bright chain with a deep stone.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think a gem would do me much good in a battle,¡± Ash said.
¡°No, but it will do wonders in a meeting. It will shed some of that... common born inelegance they do so fear.¡± She turned to Amadel, who stood with her head bowed beside the doorway. ¡°Ami, would you get started on the cloak? Something closer to a prince¡¯s raiment rather than a battle-ready garb.¡±
¡°I will fetch some silk and thread, my lady,¡± Amadel bowed.
¡°No, something fuller than silk.¡±
¡°Of course, my lady.¡±
¡°Anything else you need?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Not at all. The dukes will visit on the morrow, and we will begin on our way soon thereafter. For now, go rest. I will disturb you no longer.¡±
¡°Thank you, Niamh,¡± Ash quietly said. ¡°For everything you have done.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve done nothing yet. Thank me when you wear your first crown, darling.¡±
Chapter Twenty-Four: Kings and Spiders.
A crystal wall of flowing, stressing, bounding light. Something untouchable, without taste nor scent, and yet supposedly real. A vicious glass formed of wintered water, but not truly there. Not a place, or within a space, but a hole in-between two. A pathway without stones nor gravel. A single step that would cross an empire of iron.
Three wisps of golden, crimson, and azure light danced around its opaque liquid bounds. They must live such short lives, why else did they sparkle so brilliantly and play so frantically? Born with the intent to be lost. Not lost in some important way, like the keys to a doorway, but lost in the way an hour might be lost to dreamless sleep, without notice or care or consequence.
The Champion, the should-be, the traitor and the old knight stood before the path, their cohorts in tow. A single cloth strip billowed from her shoulder, the wings of a smoky sparrow stitched within fluttered along with the breeze.
She was the first to take a step, it seemed appropriate. A thousand, thousand eyes lay on her and each seemed to expect something entirely different. Between herself and the crowd of near worshipers lay but ten steps. Nobody made a sound. Not the drunkards who had cheered and jeered as she battled in the arena. Not the hundred soldiers with their stony faces and primed steel.
¡°Ashtik,¡± a whispered voice urged. ¡°Are you ready?¡±
Ash turned her back to the crowds and to the path. She faced down the older woman, Niamh Macau. She had never felt so tall, so imperious. She stood upon a tower of might and steel and saw the people beneath gawk up at her.
¡°I am,¡± was her near-silent reply.
She steadied her gaze upon her sister. The wisp light curved around the gentle and delicate angles of her little face and caught within the steel traps of her hopeful little eyes. It couldn¡¯t have been the crimson sun of midday that lit the city, nor the gently warbling crystalline portal or the everlasting stars of night. It could only have been her; her little smile, masked and contained as to appear ¡®lady-like''; the brightness of her gaze ¨C which seemed to capture the shine of the very heavens ¨C and the shimmer of her snow-white hair.
Evara, a name worth dying for; a girl worth living for.
All of it, for her.
She did not look at the port as she took the single step through. Her boot crossed and broke no barrier. No resistance came but for the hesitance of setting off on a fateful journey. Then, she was alone. None had passed with her.
It was no more than a heartbeat, but it felt like a lifetime of solitude. The blood rushed to her head and tore past her ears. She figured for a moment that it was for the best, that in her solitude, she would risk no lives but her own.
Then a little white beacon forded the great distance and came to her side. All others followed at her heel. Sujin marched bravely, Mei slinked through, Amadel nearly tripped over the barrier while Niamh stormed straight past Ash and carried on far out of view. Then Amell came. The giant walked as though a foot shorter. His cloak so tightly bound, it must have cut the circulation from his mind.
She had forgotten again, the risk he had taken in joining her. Her friend, the most wanted man in the Forgelands, had just entered the capital city with every intention of meeting the king. He was as likely to leave this place without a head as she was to leave this place with an imperial alliance.
Her gaze drifted out as she slowly turned from the opaque portal. The torrenting blood settled back into her heart, though by the new weight in her belly, it must have pooled within. A promenade by the sea of soldiers led to a mountain-high mansion. Circle walls of flaming orange and red climbed as high as the clouds, though they weren¡¯t so delicate as the tower of the duke. This was a legendary fortress, a battled keep, the king''s castle.
The seas of men weren¡¯t adoring folk as they had been before. They were soldier, steely and hard. They did not wear armour quite like the baron¡¯s army had. No leather nor brigandine. These men each wore a suit of runed steel and chain links. A pike held in hand with a sword or axe held to the hip. Some wielded crossbows, others carried war bows with a pull so strong an arrow might even pierce iron.
They stood as though saluting. Their pikes were held with shaft upon their right foot and blade held out towards the sky. Not a man looked at her, instead focusing on the tips of their own weapons.
A cascade of instruments began shortly. Trumpets and drums, stings and choirs. A war song serenade. The bellowing voices of the soldiers bound back from the sharp spike towers and battled alongside the ethereal hums of the women¡¯s choir. The sung words were not in the common tongue but were clearly a proud tale of conquest or some other soldier¡¯s story.
Atop a jade staircase at the end of her path towered a single man. He came into clearer view as she slowly ascended. A jade and emerald crown rested easily atop his brow, humble in its design, if not its materials. A long mane of deep grey hair reached far past his broad shoulders. His kingly beard wore just as little colour, though his eyes proved different. A vibrant and beaming gaze of green beyond even what his emerald crown could hope to be.
He wore as much steel as he did velvet and satin. His ornate cloak of a rich purple fabric was clipped onto his muscle-carved breastplate. The regalia beyond his crown seemed inappropriately humble and mundane. A white iron smithing hammer in his left hand seemed more beaten and abused than a soldier after a bloody battle. A great twohanded war hammer rested at his feet, though it was far from ornate especially when compared to Ash¡¯s own spear, Ser Stabby.
A woman appeared as Ash crossed the final few steps. A small woman with a big smile. Flowing red hair had been tied behind her neck with plates of emerald and crimson jade. She wore a strange neck ornament. A golden band that must have strangled her, though she didn¡¯t seem to notice, which had a silver thread binding it to her diamond blue gown.
Ash felt a pressure on her hand and looked down to find her sister. Radiant and beaming, though she still clung to her. It might have been to comfort the girl¡¯s own fear, or an attempt to support Ash, but she didn¡¯t care. Ash was grateful for the warmth of her hand.
As they came to a stop before the imposing king, Ash held Evara close in front of her and wrapped her arms around Ev¡¯s shoulders.
She looked to her left where Niamh and Amadel had fallen to one knee, then she looked to her right where Sujin had taken a matching stance.
Only she, Evara, Mei and Amell remained standing. She tried to keep the king¡¯s gaze, though she noticed that the queen hadn¡¯t once glanced at her, instead being utterly transfixed by Evara.
Donaleaf raised a single silent hand and the whole world fell silent. The music stopped, the soldiers quietened, the winds no longer howled and the birds no longer chirped.
¡°Sparrow-Knight,¡± he said loud enough for the heavens to ring and deep enough to rumble the darkest of mineshafts.
A chorus of clashing called out. The sea of soldiers battered the cobbled stone streets with the pommels of their pikes. They did so as one, with no lag between clashes but the time it would take the sound to reach her from the furthest of soldiers.
He raised his hand again and, again, the crowd fell silent. Then, he took up his great hammer. It looked to be as tall as her, and nearly twice as heavy, but he hefted up to his shoulder with an unnatural east.
A symbol on the flat head of the hammer began to glow. Like a rune, but somehow more. Abyssal and animated. A living little thing within the hammer, the mark of the forger. She realised it was his mark and he must have sought her own.
Ash flexed the invisible muscle that bound her gauntlet and allowed it to recede. The flesh beneath was pale but unbroken and unscarred. Once she had hidden it away within the little purple gem behind her hand, a little sparrow made itself known. It fluttered and soared between freckles and spots. It winded along the red chains tattooed along her arms and shoulders. It fluttered higher, towards the less pale areas of her arm. Her bicep and triceps seemed to be its preferred perch, though it managed to fly just a little higher before settling down.
¡°Sparrow-Knight, to whom do you belong?¡± the imperious king demanded.
¡°I belong to nobody,¡± was her falsely certain reply.
¡°Then who do you serve?¡± he pressed.
¡°Whoever I must.¡±
He gave her a strange look. Confusion twinged with something like understanding. The wrinkles at the edge of his vibrant, but tired, eyes seemed to deepen as he asked, ¡°You are a Champion?¡±
¡°I am.¡± She realised it was the first time she had said it so plainly, though she still wasn¡¯t sure if she believed it.
¡°Of whom?¡±
¡°He of dreams, good king,¡± Evara answered. ¡°The patron of sorrow, of memory and merciful amnesia. She is Ashtik Sai-Weleg, the Sparrow-Knight, the Champion of War, the Lady of Dreams, the one-day Star-Stealer. She is Ashtik, the Champion of Black, and she is so much more.¡±
¡°Then I welcome the Champion, and I abide the Heretic. Let all know, that I know, that Ashtik of Black is true in her word and truer in her title.¡± His great hammer clashed once with the jade steps and erupted in a twisting, twirling, dancing, snowing flurry of red bands of lighting and blue sparks of water.
It rushed from his hammer and consumed her hand. It lathered her gem and petted her arm. The bands and sparks ¨C like a thousand loving caresses ¨C sought out something within her.
With a desperate and ecstatic sigh, she loosened the muscle and allowed the black to consume her again. It did not spread as it usually would, but burst like a blown bubble into tentacles of writhing purple and black.
The elegance and beauty of his power comforted the pain and jitter of her own. They mixed and merged in volcanic blows. Strikes would launch as high as his castle or sear into the jade ground. Arms of power stretched out between the soldier but did not touch a single one.
It must have been a spectacle, the merging of two titanic powers, but she was not watching. Her eyes were affixed to her arm, where the power of red and blue - black and purple melded together to strengthen what was already strong.
The steel marched on its warpath. First from her wrist, where a jagged shield sprung out, then further along. It made it to the sparrow, who still slept so peacefully within its perch. The smoky little thing didn¡¯t seem bothered in the slightest as the darkness overcame it and expanded on.
A thick disk of oily black steel bubbled up and tore away at her forged shoulder pad. A spike snapped the leather strap that had kept it in place and what remained of the original pad fell to the dirt, replaced by something much greater.
The lights ended and the powers settled. She drew a ragged gasp as the crowd battered the ground again, not that she could hear them past the sound of her own frantic heartbeat. The effort wasn¡¯t easy on the king either. The stoic man slammed his hammer into the ground and pressed his weight into it.
His wife, whose name Ash couldn¡¯t recall, rushed to his side. She stroked a gentle hand over his head and came away with a gathered sheen of sweat.
The king panted and growled out some half-words. The most she could make out at first was, ¡°Sister...¡±
Ash steadied herself against Evara. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Ev asked.
¡°I... Yeah, I am,¡± Ash whispered. She splayed out her fingers and watched as the metal kept shifting slowly over her hand. Like gentle ocean waves splashing around rocks and islands, she watched the metal pool against the jutting knuckle spikes and then flowing away again.
¡°Sister,¡± the king panted much more clearly. ¡°Welcome to my home.¡± He reached out a hand towards her and limped away from his hammer. She stumbled off of Ev and clashed her hand against his. Her fingers struggled to wrap around his muscle-bound forearm while his enveloped the warm steel of her left hand wholly.
¡°Thank you, King Donaleaf,¡± Ash struggled to say.
¡°Just... Just Asmond,¡± he panted.
¡°Then call me Ash.¡±
He pressed some of his weight into her as he straightened out. She couldn¡¯t help but think it was some subtle test of her strength. Once he was stood proud and high before her, she gathered a hint of him. Despite his chiselled breastplate, he was not a chiselled man. He may well have been in his youth but now, this man before her had earned a fair belly for himself. That is not to say that he was a gluttonous-looking person. His face was harshly angled beneath the thick grey beard and didn¡¯t seem at all plump. He was built in a similar way to Sujin rather than Amell, a smith¡¯s build not a soldier¡¯s. He stood halfway between her own height and Amell¡¯s, though he may have been slightly broader at the shoulder.
¡°Very well, Ash. Stand at my side and wave to the onlookers, then we shall retreat into my keep and talk more openly.¡±
She did as she was bid. The Champion of Iron took up the steel-clad hand of the Champion of Black and raised it up for all men to see. From atop the jade staircase, she could see every man alive. The sapphire horizon with the soon-setting sun and the thousand stevs of crimson grass and lilac trees. The city of Raven Field, overlooked by the castle of Raven Keep, sprawled out beneath her. Square streets wrapped in circle walls. Perfectly lined dark wood and bright stone houses, which seemed more like humble mansions to a Maester Veil huntress, looked colour-coded and never more than a five-minute walk from a spear-like guard tower. Rivers flowed down from the central castle and wound up strange corkscrews whenever they needed to elevate.
A volley of colourful explosions erupted in the dusklight sky. Stars screamed from the dirt into their natural habitat and scattered to their fellows. Cries and cheers echoed from far past the keep and the soldiers. It would seem every person in the nation had their eyes set upon her black-marked hand. A celebration had begun in her honour despite not one of the celebrants having ever laid eyes upon her.
A throne of iron reigned over a hall of purple velvet. Attendants, courtiers and heroes of empire stood silent and ready for a kingly address. Asmond guided Ash deep into the hall and Niamh held a hand to her shoulder as to stop her once they had reached the designated spot in the hall. She stood upon a red tile circle in the middle of the hall. A crowd stood vigil around her, most even held candles. It seemed much too ominous for the ¡®open¡¯ talk they had arrived for.
Asmond crossed the extra distance between Ash and his throne. The dark spruce floorboards that made up the entire rest of the hall ¨C but for where Ash stood ¨C creaked underfoot. He set himself down heavily in his seat and, all as one, the courtiers knelt before him.
¡°Champion of Black, my Ducissa tells me that you seek an alliance. Is this so?¡± His booming voice echoed from each of the spruce pillars and seemed to rattle the iron chandeliers above her.
¡°It is,¡± Ash cooly replied. She made every attempt to appear formidable. She breathed deeply and puffed her chest out so far as her ribs would allow. She stood nearly on the balls of her feet with her head held high and her voice pitched low.
¡°Why do you require my arm?¡± He asked.
¡°You must know of my fate, good king,¡± Ash answered. ¡°I am to battle the end of the world.¡±
¡°I know of prophesies and stories, but I see no dark army, not battle that must be fought. All I see is a story and a woman willing to profit from that tale.¡±
¡°You think... I have profited?¡±
¡°That is a fine set of steel. Fur rims and not to mention the fist-sized gemstone you wear,¡± Asmond pointed out flatly.
¡°I would shed it all in a heartbeat. I would strip the steel from my flesh here and now if I could, if I had a choice. I have lost my home; I have lost friends and I may well have lost my own father. We are Champions, masters of our own domains. I would guess that means you were once a forger?¡±
¡°A carpenter,¡± he corrected.
¡°And you had a passion for it?¡±
¡°I lived to create, to carve and make.¡±
¡°I am the same, but I am a huntress. I have gladly spent my life in the forest alone, hunting and living. A year ago, my worst nightmare would have been speaking before my village of fifty people. Since then, I have burnt men alive, I have murdered in cold blood, I have been beaten and stabbed and cut and threatened with much beyond death. I have dreamt ¨C every night ¨C of the end of the world; of the death of my sister, of the betrayal of my friend. Hand me some magical object that sheds me of these responsibilities and I will take it gladly. I will return to my forest and hunt bore until I am too old and too slow to escape it maul.¡± She couldn¡¯t help but speak with spittle. A wrath boiled over within her at the accusations he offered. Indignation beyond what she could suppress.
He shifted in his seat, probably glad that enough space parted the two that her spit couldn¡¯t reach him. His face, as stony and stoic as ever, shifted to a somewhat pensive look as she finally fell silent. Half a smile flashed in his eyes as a slight blush crept across Ash. She couldn¡¯t believe she had just exploded in anger before a king, the king. The king she needed most, the king who stood between her and the Veytors who hunted her so adamantly.
¡°Then who do you battle? Where is this dark army?¡± He finally asked in a low rumble, his mouth masked behind a hand as he stroked over his moustache.
¡°I- I don¡¯t know,¡± she shamefully admitted.
¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±
¡°Your Highness,¡± Evara piped up, slipping Niamh¡¯s gentle grasp and moving beside Ash. ¡°We know a foe comes. We know the world is at an end. I ask you, will you prepare your defences or will you wait until they stand upon the horizon? Walls crumble, good king, she won¡¯t.¡±
A grin found the queen at that but she quickly hid it. She moved from the fore of the crowd to her own lesser throne at his side and he offered her his hand to hold without a word.
¡°What you are saying is hard to believe,¡± the queen gently said. ¡°And the ramifications are dire. My kind husband must weigh your word against common sense. We have seen no reason to believe the world is at an end and, to be perfectly honest, we simply don¡¯t want it to be true. The unlikeliness of what you say, alongside the obvious horror of it, places an immediate bias against you, Black.¡±
She looked to her carefully attentive husband for a moment and seemed to gleam some message from his stony face that would be impossible to read for any other in the world.
The queen¡¯s gaze flowed between Ash and Evara before she continued saying, ¡°But to simply ignore you would be irresponsibly foolish, so I ask if there is any way you might prove what you say?¡±
¡°I- do not know,¡± Ash admitted.
¡°Is it not proof enough that she is clearly the Champion of the forgotten Goden? Is that not dire enough of an omen for you, fair queen?¡± Ev insisted.
¡°And who would you be, child?¡± The queen sweetly asked.
¡°My apologies, your majesty. I am Evara, sister of Ashtik,¡± Ev said as she curtsied for the queen.
¡°You are quite the talker, Evara,¡± the queen giggled.
¡°I am sorry, fair queen, if I have spoken out of turn. My sister struggles with conversation and often defers to me in these matters. I mean no indignity.¡±
¡°You have indignified nobody, Evara. If the Champion would prefer you to speak on her behalf, I see no reason to stop you,¡± the queen smiled.
¡°My liege, if I may,¡± Niamh said with a bowed head. ¡°I would pledge upon my honour and vow of loyalty that Ashtik is no liar. With all I have seen and heard, I have no doubt that she will be a valued ally.¡±
¡°I will heed what you have both said. It is true that the arrival of the first Champion of Black should not be taken lightly. You seek an alliance of a military nature to combat the expected darkness?¡±
¡°We seek more than a military alliance, queen. We seek to bind ourselves as friends and equals with you.¡±
¡°Equals?¡± The king scoffed. ¡°A huntress and a bard? How can you be equal to one of the greatest nations in the continent?¡±
¡°We are not,¡± Ev bowed. ¡°But it is not what we are that should interest you, it is what she will be. I am sure you have already given thought to her claims as a Champion. Not only as a Champion to a member of the Trinity, but as the Champion to the grandfather of the gods.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The king settled back behind his hand and the queen spoke up again, ¡°The Champion of Black has no official claims.¡±
¡°True, but as she is foretold to save the world and forge a great empire, it is reasonable to claim any land that threatens her ¨C or her beloved allies ¨C as her own. It will be done in service of saving the world, therefore none might protest. That claim, along with her own ever-growing prowess, will be the deciding factor in your ongoing war, which we might all agree would be quite a positive thing to be done away with before it''s too late.¡±
¡°What is it you ask then? Must we pull back our armies to be ready at your beck and call, or will you act as a general for us? What is it you practically, currently require?¡±
¡°Support. My sister is a fugitive in nearly every nation under the Conclave. Take her on as a warrior and teach her the ways of a general. So long as she is a partner and not a subject, she will aid you completely. You retain final say over all uses of your resources and manpower, but once she begins gathering power of her own, it will not belong to you. In exchange, she will aid you in your every war, defensive or otherwise. If she does in fact forge an empire of Black, that empire shall be bound and allied to you.¡±
The king and queen matched eyes. They discussed the complexities of empire with the twitches of their brow and lips. They weighed the power of a Champion against the risk of a Heretic by shifting their gazes and grunting in affirmation. Finally, the queen simply shrugged as if to say, ¡°It''s up to you.¡±
¡°An alliance goes both ways,¡± the king slowly said. ¡°If you prove yourself to be a worthwhile ally, you can rely on my support. If you prove too weak, I will assume that you are not truly the Champion of War and our alliance shall be voided, agreed?¡±
¡°One more thing, brother,¡± Ash quietly said before Ev could agree.
¡°What is it?¡± He asked with a lack of patience.
¡°A condition of our alliance.¡±
¡°A condition?¡± he scoffed.
¡°My sister, Evara. She is not a warrior; she is as you said, a bard. I ask that you take her as a ward, keep her here in your home and raise her as if your own daughter. Teach her your ways and keep her safe. If I know she is safe here, nothing will stand in my way out there.¡±
¡°What?¡± Evara shrieked, though she fell deathly silent under Ash¡¯s glare.
The king opened his mouth to answer but his voice caught in his throat as his wife took his hand. They looked to one another again, but this time there was no silent debate. The little wife pled with nothing but her big brown eyes and the stoic, emotionless warrior-king melted in a heartbeat.
¡°Not for nothing, my liege,¡± Niamh meekly said. ¡°But the girl is a magical prodigy. My grand healer has claimed she is the most naturally gifted magician of this era ¨C or any era.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± he announced, struggling to tear his gaze from his wife. ¡°This is acceptable.¡±
¡°Thank you, good king Asmond. I know the threat you will face from the Conclave for this,¡± Ash bowed.
¡°Just Asmond, Ash. We are partners now, don¡¯t forget,¡± he said in a way that might have been warm had his face not been so hard and cold. ¡°I will announce this day on the new moon. The conclave be damned.¡±
¡°Stand before me Ashtik Sai-Weleg. Ducissa, if you please.¡± Asmond stood from his throne and Ash moved before him.
Niamh joined them and bound a thread of gold to Ash¡¯s arm. She moved it to the King¡¯s arm and tied the two together.
¡°Ashtik, repeat after me dear,¡± Niamh said in a hush. ¡°I swear my life and my death.¡±
¡°I swear my life and my death,¡± Ash repeated hesitantly.
¡°I swear my life and my death,¡± Asmond bellowed.
¡°In light and in dark,¡± Niamh recited.
¡°In light and in dark,¡± the two repeated.
¡°Through wealth and decay.¡±
¡°Through wealth and decay.¡±
¡°Through wealth and decay.¡±
¡°To stand by your side with blade and heart in hand.¡±
¡°To stand by your side with blade and heart in hand.¡±
¡°To stand by your side with blade and heart in hand.¡±
¡°From now, until our bloodlines run dry.¡±
¡°From now, until our bloodlines run dry.¡±
¡°From now, until our bloodlines run dry.¡±
The golden thread bloomed and a ring of flowers and fruits blossomed from within. With delicacy and grace, Niamh and the queen unbound the thread and placed it within a glass case. A pair of soldiers took the case and whisked it away through the castle.
¡°Now we are bound as all but family, I have a question, Ash,¡± the king said.
¡°Of course.¡±
¡°Did you think it wise to bring Amell Fielder into my home?¡±
Twenty or more soldiers, steel and shield in hand, tore through the crowds and circled the blue knight. He did not resist as he raised his hands and fell to one knee. Gasps sounded out all around them, especially from Niamh, as his cloak was torn from him and his helm thrown to the floor. He wore a weary smile and kept his eyes to the floor.
¡°Do you know who he is?¡± He demanded.
¡°I do,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°He is a friend.¡±
¡°He is a monster!¡± Asmond roared. ¡°A killer and a monster. You would trust him at your side?¡±
¡°I would, yes. I don¡¯t doubt he has done terrible things, but I need him. We need him.¡±
¡°I need nothing from this fiend,¡± Asmond spat.
¡°I swear to you, he regrets his past more than either of us can understand. He seeks nothing more than absolution.¡±
Asmond marched past his soldiers and towered over the knelt monster. ¡°Is that true? Do you seek absolution? You want to go to the heavens when you die so you can see your family again?¡±
¡°Men like me don¡¯t get heaven,¡± Amell whispered, looking past the king and at Ash. ¡°We get orders.¡±
¡°And if you were ordered to die?¡±
¡°Then I will die at her order,¡± Amell said calmly.
¡°Then do it. Ashtik, give the order. That is my condition of support, he must die.¡±
¡°No!¡± Ash shouted. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to die; he can redeem himself.¡±
¡°A monster cannot be redeemed, only put out of its misery,¡± Asmond spat.
¡°It''s okay, Spinny. This is why your Goden brought me to you. Prove your loyalty, I¡¯m ready.¡±
¡°Shut up,¡± Ash demanded. ¡°Asmond, he is an asset you cannot afford to lose. The greatest general in your enemy''s army on your side!¡±
¡°You want my support, Black? Do as I say,¡± Asmond ordered.
¡°No,¡± Ash quietly said. ¡°You do not make demands of an equal. I will go elsewhere to build my alliance. When the dark descends, you will face it alone and you will fade away like all the rest.¡±
¡°Champion!¡± the queen called. ¡°Please, do not do this. What is the life of one man?"
¡°Everything. You are too busy with the lives of millions to realise the value of a single life. Let us leave in peace, I seek no quarrel.¡±
¡°The man wants to die; you would truly ruin everything for him?¡± The queen begged.
¡°I would not waste a life with so much more to give. A brilliant general and warrior is exactly what I¡¯ll need in a worldwide war. No doubt I will have to recruit others along the way I do not wish to, but simply need to.¡±
The king¡¯s stony visage cracked and a vein of hatred shone through. He looked down on the monster before him with a terrible sneer. ¡°What of you, Fielder? You would fight for her even as she allies with me? Even as she battles the Bloodlands, your friends and fellows?¡±
¡°Your majesty,¡± Amell whispered with his head hanged. ¡°I once fought against you. I once battled for the Blood Queen and slaughtered for the Bloodlands. I faced you personally many times and rarely lost a battle. Then, some years ago, during the siege of Alfrey, your men murdered my wife and son. I may have done terrible things in the war, sire, but I never sent assassins after women and children. The act left me hollow and in my burning wrath, I betrayed my queen. The next general who took my place was... a cruel man. I watched him burn Alfrey to the ground. The atrocities I witnessed because of my betrayal destroyed my faith in nations and gods.¡± He paused for a while and nobody spoke a word, not even Asmond though his seething breaths did echo through the hall.
¡°I drifted for years, floating from fight to fight, searching for the one petty scrap that would finally finish me off. That was until I met her.¡± His eyes rose from the floorboards and found Ash again. ¡°In her, I found a purpose, I found faith. I saw a single girl holding together the whole world with her bare hands and not for some silly noble aspirations. Not because she sought power or fame... simply because she wanted to protect her sister. I am Amell Fielder, I did do everything you hate me for, but so long as you are her friend, you are my brother. I swear this to you.¡±
The silence gathered again. Tension so thick, a knife would simply bounce off of it. The patter of the queen¡¯s footfalls was the only sound for a moment. Ash watched her dash over to Evara and take her hand before dragging the girl over to the king.
¡°My love,¡± she whispered, taking Evara into her arms. ¡°Forgiveness is for our enemies, not our friends. Please... for me?¡±
He sighed and it became clear that the matter was decided with a flutter of his bride¡¯s eyelashes.
¡°Swear your loyalty to her,¡± Asmond commanded.
¡°I already have, sire. I will do so again, if it pleases you.¡±
¡°Then there is no need. I ask you, Fielder, though we were once enemies, will you fight at my side with honour?¡±
¡°I will fight with you; I will die for you. I am hers and she needs you, so I will, yes.¡±
¡°Then that will have to be enough. Amell of House Fielder, rise and stand with your Champion.¡±
¡°Thank you, sire.¡±
¡°Now, friends of the court!¡± The queen announced with a fresh smile. ¡°Please, the celebrations will begin at sundown. Leave us now, and spread the word of Ashtik, the true Champion of Black!¡±
As the hall emptied and all that remained was Ash and her new companions, she turned to Ev who stood close to tears. Ash crossed over to hold her, but Evara backed away from her touch.
¡°Evy?¡± Ash whispered.
¡°Don¡¯t ¡®Evy¡¯ me,¡± she spat, barely holding back a cry. ¡°The first chance you got, you put me up for fucking adoption.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t have a choice! You didn¡¯t expect me to take you to the frontlines, did you?¡±
¡°Of course I did! You are no more experienced with war than I! I¡¯ve been fighting beside you this whole time and I¡¯ve saved your life plenty of times with my healing!¡±
¡°You haven¡¯t been fighting by my side Ev; I¡¯ve been protecting you. Every fight we¡¯ve been in, I¡¯ve had to be on the defensive. I¡¯ve had to protect you every time. I can¡¯t do that in a war. I can¡¯t keep an eye on you in the middle of a battle.¡±
Evara balled her fists and struggled to keep her voice at a polite level as she cried out, ¡°Then I¡¯ll get stronger! I¡¯ll learn how to fight!¡±
¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± Ash snarled. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your brilliant, beautiful mind on murder. I need you here. I need a diplomat making alliances and building a kingdom. You will be infinitely more useful here, learning to lie and politic.¡±
¡°Ash,¡± Ev whimpered. She could not hold the tears back any longer and a single, heartbreaking, droplet circled her little round cheeks. ¡°I- We¡¯ve never been apart,¡± she whispered. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without you.¡±
¡°Without me? You¡¯ll thrive, baby. Who knows, without me blocking your game, you might even marry some hot prince? Years down the line, of course, and only if I meet him first... and only if I like him... and only if- you know what, forget about the marriage thing,¡± Ash teased. It made Ev giggle slightly, though it sounded closer to a sob. Ash couldn¡¯t handle the look any longer so she dragged the child into her chest and held her tightly. She hoped that the fur lining would be somewhat more comfortable than the steel plate, but either way, Evara didn¡¯t seem to mind. She was happy to silently sob there for a while.
¡°You¡¯ll be incredible, Evy. You¡¯ll save the world.¡±
¡°That¡¯s your job,¡± the girl sniffed as she pulled away. She wiped the tears from her face and sorrow fell to dread as she noted the black smudge as she dragged her hand from her eyes.
¡°No,¡± she gasped. ¡°Have I ruined my makeup?¡±
¡°Maybe a little,¡± Ash lied. The girl was a mess by fashion standards, but angelic by the standards of the eye.
¡°Shit, get Lady Macau, she might be able to fix me,¡± Ev whispered.
¡°Don¡¯t worry, child,¡± a warm voice interrupted. ¡°I won''t begrudge you your tears.¡±
Ev dreaded to turn and face the voice, she must have known straight away what Ash could see. The queen of the Forgelands stood a metre behind Evara though was looking at Ash.
¡°I¡¯m sorry, my queen,¡± Ev whispered. ¡°I¡¯m in a sorry state.¡±
¡°You are fine, Evara. I gather this is as unexpected for you as it is for me. I promise that you will be treated as my own flesh and blood. You shall never want for warmth or comfort. Champion, you are also welcome in these halls whenever you wish. When you are not fighting, return here and the two of you can spend as much time together as you like,¡± the queen said softly.
Evara slowly turned towards her with her hand covering most of her face and her shoulder peaked high. The queen smiled and ran a hand under her chin, leading her head high and forcing her gaze.
¡°Let us get you fixed up, hey?¡± She beamed.
¡°Thank you, my queen,¡± Ev squeaked.
¡°Just call me Tiby.¡±
¡°Of course, people usually just call me Ev.¡±
¡°Well then, Ev, let me show you to your wing.¡± She held out a hand and Evara took in mildly. The child offered a sad glance back to her sister as she walked away. Ash could do nothing but bare a pained smile.
They stood before a great map of the nations, painted atop a marble block in excruciating detail. Rivers were marked with each stream and outlet. Roads were scribed with each splitting footpath, while cities were drawn in such detail that individual streets could be followed.
It seemed the Forgelands were somewhat more built up when compared to the vast open steppe of the Bloodlands, though the marking made note of the sheer size of the Bloodland horde. Horses roamed by the tens of thousands through the nation¡¯s grassy planes while a vast mountain range perfectly defended the nation from any naval incursions from the Forgelands, lest the Forgelander navy circle their entire nation.
¡°The fighting is thickest here, in the north,¡± Asmond declared as he poked over the map with a shortsword. The point landed upon a drawn bridge between the two twin islands. ¡°Any offensive has to go through here, but the Veytor mountain range makes any traversal nearly impossible. The few times we have pressed far enough in to reach their fortress, the Veytors have picked away at our supply lines and starved us into defeat.¡±
¡°What''s stopping them from attacking you?¡± Ash asked. He did not reply with words, but the clang of runed steel.
¡°Defensively, we are unbeaten. During mutual or aggressive combat, however, the battle sways in their favour.¡±
¡°Has Vias refitted her navy?¡± Amell asked.
After a cold moment of consideration, Asmond answered, ¡°No.¡±
¡°Then why haven¡¯t you tried a naval assault?¡±
¡°Because we haven¡¯t either.¡± He moved the stick down to Tenpi, an archipelago to the south of the Forgelands. ¡°I paid the old pirate king to supply us with new designs and crew trainers. Now he¡¯s dead and the new pirate queen refuses to honour the contract.¡±
¡°Tends to be ill advisable to pay pirates ahead of time,¡± Amell smirked.
¡°Not him, he was an old friend. This new queen, the Champion of Pink, is something of a villainess.¡±
¡°Can you not just make your own navy? I thought creating was your main thing?¡± Ash asked.
¡°I can create anything, indeed, but I need to understand it to the most minute detail. If I create a ship with poor proportions or poor structure, it will fall apart mid-battle. Plus, my men are infantry, not sailors. They would be useless on a ship.¡±
¡°So, what¡¯s your strategy?¡± Amell asked.
Donaleaf struggled to answer for a moment, not for lack of words but for hesitance of company. It must have still felt so foreign for him to disclose military secrets to someone like Amell Fielder.
¡°Attrition. We take ground inch by inch and build up our backlines. Place a new fortress every hundred steps,¡± he finally struggled out.
¡°That won¡¯t work,¡± Amell declared as final.
¡°It has done so far.¡±
¡°Tiebum in the deep south, a breadbasket duchy. Covered entirely with enough wheat and cattle to feed an army for a decade after a single season. You cannot starve them out in their own territory unless you take Tiebum first. To do that, you¡¯d need to attack from the south, which you can¡¯t.¡±
¡°Then what do you suggest?¡± Asmond sighed, knowing ¨C but hating ¨C that Amell was right.
¡°Spinny?¡± Amell suggested.
¡°Me?¡± Ash stuttered. ¡°I¡¯m just here to learn. I don¡¯t know how to wage war.¡±
¡°Then make it something you do know,¡± Amell smiled.
She looked over the map and begged her mind to come up with something brilliant and clever, though nothing came forth. ¡°Make it something you do know,¡± she repeated in her mind.
She imagined a hunt. Some predator, too mighty to battle alone. A drake; fierce, lethal and rapid. When facing a drake, a huntress should never attack it directly. She should trap and starve it until it was weak enough to finish. She doubted she could trap a nation, but starve it?
¡°If we need Tiebum, we should take Tiebum,¡± she finally whispered.
¡°We can¡¯t just march through the entirety of the Bloodlands and take one city,¡± the king sighed.
¡°No, but we can skip over the Bloodlands,¡± Ash suggested.
¡°What?¡±
¡°Your people invented portals. Surely you can open a portal next to the city and attack?¡±
¡°Portals are prohibitively expensive and difficult to create. We cannot just open them before every battle.¡±
¡°We don¡¯t need to, right? Just this one battle. We arrive, burn the crops and raze the city, then return through the portal before the queen has any idea what''s going on. A kingdom without food won''t last long in a war.¡±
¡°How do you suggest we raze a city without a prolonged siege?¡± Asmond asked.
¡°You,¡± she plainly said. ¡°We create a temporary fort, you create some artillery, and we bombard the city. Then we portal in the secondary army, create stairways over the walls and do as much damage as we can in a day. They won''t have a massive garrison in a city on the other side of the country. By the time the sun sets, we leave. Just like that.¡±
¡°Why would we take the city and not try to hold it?¡±
¡°If we can¡¯t have it,¡± Amell realised. ¡°Nobody can. We wouldn¡¯t be able to hold the city, but Vias will need to take it back. We might not gain anything, but they¡¯ll lose massively. And... If we make enough noise, we can convince her that the majority of our forces are there. She¡¯ll pull all her troops back from the frontlines.¡±
¡°Leaving them exposed to our real armies,¡± Asmond said with a hint of excitement. ¡°We send a detachment of our vanguard and leave the rest to pillage the north. We¡¯ll starve them out while picking away at their cities. If we time it right, it could be months before they march down there and back up to the main fight. They¡¯ll be exhausted and weak!¡±
¡°So... will it work?¡± Ash awkwardly asked.
¡°It could, and that¡¯s the most important thing. We¡¯ll make a general of you yet, Black,¡± Asmond said with his ever-stoic look. ¡°Accompany me on the attack, Ash. Though, I will need someone to lead my vanguard in my absence.¡±
¡°Do you have a Lord you would trust with the job?¡± Ash asked.
¡°No, they will all sniff glory and charge. But I do have a general I must learn to trust,¡± he answered, looking to Amell.
¡°Sire, are you sure?¡± Amell choked.
¡°Not even remotely. My men won¡¯t follow Amell Fielder, so wear your helm and don¡¯t make me regret this.¡±
¡°I- I won¡¯t. Thank you, King Donaleaf.¡±
¡°Now, there is a dance beginning in your honour, Black. It would be wrong to keep you from it. Enjoy your night, on the morrow we prepare for battle.¡± He sheathed the shortsword on his hip and bowed his head to Ash and Amell as his permission for them to leave.
Every time Ash had attended a feast or festivity, she was dead certain that it was the most opulent event possible. And every time, she was proved wrong. Banner of black cotton hung from the rafters of the ballroom; each bore the insignia of a little smoky sparrow. Tables lined the sides of the room and must have been close to cracking under the weight of the food and drink they carried. A hundred servants moved as smoothly as the dancing dancers, serving drinks by the gallon and meat by the mound. Cakes of all kinds, small and frilly or big and sinful, lined a table at the far left of the hall, and that was where she caught a glance of Mei the supposed spymaster of black, stuffing her face with pretty pink muffins.
Ash waded through the ocean of revelry. She sidestepped offers to dance and drink and... more. She twirled around celebrants as they praised her name, and she rolled beneath servants who each insisted they offered the best food and drink at the ball.
Gowns of flowing blue and white brushed against the floor. Flamboyant suits were worn so tightly, no secrets were let beneath for the man to hold. Foreign Singers sang in sparkling skirts and silvery salwars.
Then there was one other, a singer with a silken voice and a sanguine gaze that felt all too familiar. The singer parted the crowd as her eyes locked upon Ash, her song never wavering. It was only as she passed the last leering man that Ash realised something strange. This singer wore deep red leather huntress garbs, only made to look much more elegant. It wasn¡¯t far from her own discarded set, though notably lacked a little more material when compared to Ash¡¯s own.
She pressed her lute into some passing nobleman¡¯s arms. In his confusion, he took it and simply watched as she stalked ever closer to Ashtik.
Delicate flowers hung on the air as she approached, then something more... Like, ambrosia on a scent.
A tuft of raven black hair whipped against Ash¡¯s cheek as the markedly shorter woman circled around her, gliding her fingernail across Ash¡¯s shoulder all the while.
¡°My, oh my, snowangel. It has been all too long.¡±
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Spider & The Sparrow (Part One).
How could such cold flesh feel so hot against her lips? How could such dark eyes burn so brightly? How could this... woman, twirl and dance like a flower petal caught on a breeze? Fluid and formless yet structured and elegant. Her every step, soundless. Her every glance, burning.
Ashtik might have been frozen in place, be it by magic or more, while the spider tangled her up in her web. Every time Ash tried to speak, the cold flesh of the raven beauty¡¯s finger burnt into her lips and hushed her into glad silence. After she twirled around Ash, her hand tracing over every crease of her armour, she stood an inch from Ash¡¯s face.
¡°Remember me, Snowangel?¡± Slipped her smoky black lips.
¡°Tebea,¡± Ash tried to say, but her voice caught behind her teeth letting only a whisper pass.
¡°I haven¡¯t been called that in quite some time,¡± she smirked, taking Ash¡¯s steel hand into her own and making Ash twirl her around.
¡°It''s the name you told me. The name you said you were called,¡± Ash said.
¡°It certainly was... quite some time ago.¡±
Her pale little fingers wrapped themselves over the neck plate of Ash¡¯s armour. Tebea all but clung to her as she pulled herself up to Ash¡¯s ear. ¡°Dance with me, my friend?¡±
She parted with a gentle shove, gliding back into the dancefloor and disappearing between the dancers. Ash tried to follow her. She marched gracelessly through the crowd as the music came to be more and more frantic. The twirling couples swayed and pranced faster and faster to keep pace.
She was nowhere to be seen until her arm wrapped around Ash¡¯s neck and her hands stroked across her cheek.
¡°You¡¯ve been working out, Snowangel,¡± Tebea giggled as her finger traced over her shoulders. ¡°All to impress me, I hope.¡±
¡°What are you doing here?¡± Ash flatly asked.
¡°I¡¯m dancing!¡± Tebea laughed. ¡°Or I would be if my date wasn¡¯t acting like a miserable old man.¡±
She took Ash¡¯s hand again, only this time Ash dragged Tebea closer and wrapped her arm around her slender waist to hold her in place. It wasn¡¯t meant as an intimate act but quickly became one.
¡°Ooh, careful snowangel, spiders might look scary but we¡¯re awful delicate,¡± she whispered. Her lips curled into a cheeky smirk as she pressed herself more closely into Ash.
¡°Why do you call yourself a spider?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Cos¡¯ I''m all legs, angel,¡± she winked. ¡°Or maybe I¡¯m a black widow? Most people are wise to fear spiders, you know?¡±
¡°I¡¯m pretty sure sparrows eat spiders.¡±
¡°Promises, promises pretty woman,¡± Tebea giggled quietly. ¡°But that¡¯ll have to wait till the evening, won¡¯t it?¡±
¡°Why did you give Amell that message? Why do you keep popping up? And why in the hells are you wearing my armour?¡±
¡°I thought it would be cute, matching outfits for the big ball,¡± she said as she pulled away with a graceful twirl. Her sanguine stare fixed to Ash¡¯s own, though the two women wore completely different expressions.
Ash was more confused than anything else, but something more bubbled beneath. Something she was sure Tebea felt too. An... intimacy, or desire therefor. Not an attraction in the simple, carnal, sense ¨C though that was certainly a consideration. There was a need to... dance? To twirl her and hold her and be held by her. To move and play until the sweat sullied their clothes and frayed their hair.
The Sparrow pulled the Spider close, then let her reign free, before stepping behind and wrapping her arms around again.
¡°Good start,¡± the Spider breathed an inch from Ash¡¯s ear.
And so, they carried on. These two abject strangers who had met only once before, on the worst day of Ash¡¯s life, danced through the ballroom as though utterly alone in the world. It was terrible, Ash was terrible. Clumsy and oafish. She must have stepped on her partner¡¯s toes a dozen times or more, and yet, it was perfect. They laughed as much as they panted and they came inches from kissing after every dip and twirl. They made mistake after mistake, after mistake... and it was brilliant.
Ash embraced her raven paramour for a brief, breathless moment. This was a woman with blood on her lips, yet on such a delicious plate, how could Ash refuse the feast?
She found herself moving without intention or purpose, yet in the end was perfection. A first cherry kiss upon cherished lips. She could taste the wine Tebea had been drinking. She could taste the sinful cakes and the divine sweets. Even just the taste of her lips alone proved... perfect.
Ash started the kiss, and with the cruelty of a warrior, she was first to part. Tearing her lips away felt like losing a part of herself for a heartbeat, but then the sanguine eyes opened ever-so close to her own, and she knew that whatever part of her was in this woman would remain long after the night had ended.
¡°I- erm... hah,¡± Tebea stuttered.
¡°Are you... speechless?¡± Ash snickered.
¡°Me? Never!¡± Tebea lied.
¡°Guess I¡¯ll just have to try again.¡±
They must have danced and laughed, and more, for hours after that. Certainly, by the time their feet were too tired to carry them any longer, the party had all but died. The last of the musicians remained and played quietly in the corner, though mostly for themselves. Their quiet stings cried across the dancefloor and told a tale of woe and glee that must have spanned the eternities.
They stumbled their way over to an empty table on unsure feet.
¡°I¡¯m bloody starving,¡± Ash giggled. She took a clean silver platter and mounded up meat and more. It was only as she sat down again that she realized she must have looked utterly savage to Tebea, gnawing away at her feast of fragrant flesh. The embarrassment didn¡¯t last long, however. Her raven-haired friend shone a brilliant smile as she took up a plate and created a mountain of food to rival Ash¡¯s own.
¡°I don¡¯t know your name,¡± Tebea finally said after she was done chewing on a chunk of exceptionally rare steak.
¡°It seems you might be alone in that,¡± Ash sighed.
¡°Oh, poor you,¡± Tebea teased. ¡°Fame and fortune thrust upon you, beautiful women throwing themselves at you. I truly pity you.¡±
¡°Well, look past the end of the world and sure, it''s pretty neat.¡±
¡°Oh, but imagine the party at the end of the world! No inhibitions, no modesty, just raw hedonistic pleasure.¡±
¡°If you¡¯re throwing the party, I¡¯m happy to attend.¡±
A quiet caught them as they both sat there eating and smiling. It was a good quiet, a happy silence. Ash did not mean to smile, it just happened, and it even started to ache. She didn¡¯t know a smile could ache until that very moment but she was glad to have learnt so.
¡°It¡¯s Ashtik,¡± she finally said. ¡°Ashtik Sai-Weleg.¡±
¡°Well then, Ashtik Sai-Weleg, it is a pleasure to meet you at last.¡±
¡°The pleasure is all mine.¡±
¡°Oh, it will be. I can promise that,¡± Tebea winked.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± Ash confidently smirked, though a twinge of a blush had to be buried in her stomach. The blatant flirtation sent her belly in more of a twist than either of them during the dance.
¡°You can hold me to the wall later on, for now though... I¡¯m still starving.¡±
¡°Do you get tired of that?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Of what?¡±
¡°The... wordplay, the innuendo. Not that I mind, of course, you just seem to do it a lot.¡±
¡°I suppose,¡± she admitted. ¡°With others, I do. Sometimes I find myself using the same couple of lines over and over just ¡®cos its easy. But with you it''s different... It powers my purpose, I guess.¡±
¡°Your purpose?¡± Ash repeated.
¡°To entertain! To make wonderful,¡± she said with a theatrical lilt.
¡°You don¡¯t need to entertain me, Tebs.¡±
¡°Tebs?¡± Tebea repeated with a squeak.
¡°Not a fan?¡± Ash asked, somewhat abashed.
A big evil smile cracked Tebea¡¯s lips. She rested her hand high along Ash¡¯s thigh and said, in a posh imitation of a regal voice, ¡°My love for it is close to my love for your wit, which must be so quick as your hand, and so slender as your waist.¡±
¡°You really don¡¯t have to speak like that,¡± Ash sighed, though she couldn¡¯t mask her smirk nor her girlish giggle.
¡°You would tell a dragon not to breathe flame!¡± Tebea continued.
¡°I would tell my ¡®friend¡¯ to shut up and kiss me.¡±
¡°And burned by fiery breath, would you be!¡± Tebea pressed on as she edged closer and closer to the inevitable kiss.
¡°At least then your food would be cooked. I¡¯ve heard of rare steaks, but that¡¯s one of a kind. I think I see a pulse,¡± Ash breathily joked as she tried to close the gap and seal the kiss. Tebea denied her, however, pressing a gentle finger against Ash¡¯s searching lips.
¡°Hearts skip and flutter in your presence, Snowangel, no matter how dead the heart may be,¡± she whispered tenderly as her smile drained and some other look overcame her for a moment. A hunger, like the one she had back in Maester Veil. A wolf¡¯s hunger, not a maiden¡¯s. Tebs drew herself back for a moment, though her lust-filled gaze didn¡¯t waver for a blink ¨C not that Ash had seen her actually blink yet.
¡°I swear, if you don¡¯t stop talking like that, I¡¯m gonna throw you out into the street and find some other way to spend my night,¡± Ash said past Tebea¡¯s finger. She didn¡¯t lower the finger, even as Ash sat up straight. Instead, Tebs followed Ash just closely enough to keep her finger pressed.
¡°Is my lady she of Dreams, or does she simply dream of thunder? For the noise may rattle, yet no lighting will strike but that of your imagination.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re saying anymore,¡± Ash sighed.
¡°Yet your smile beams as the sun my kind so oft worship.¡±
¡°Your kind? Tenpics?¡± Ash guessed.
¡°Nay, I be a mule for the great weight of this conversation that I bear for you so loyally.¡±
¡°A mule?¡±
¡°T¡¯would be the height of arrogance to call myself a stallion in my waifly form, especially when aside one so... vascular, and I am anything but arrogant; wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±
¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re annoying,¡± Ash smirked.
¡°And you simper for annoyance? Or could it be that my charm makes a blushing maiden of my conquering consort?¡±
¡°I¡¯m going to bed,¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°But so heavy is your crown that it may shatter your pillow! Allow my bosom to protect the furniture, tis a sacrifice of comfort I gladly make for my future noble queen,¡± Tebea giggled, clinging to Ash¡¯s hand as she pretended to rise from her seat.
¡°You may be a sinful temptress, or be my sinfully tempted, but be it within my bounteous bosom,¡± she continued, taking great joy in Ash¡¯s wincing expression at every mention of the word ¡®bosom¡¯.
The woman kept tugging on Ash¡¯s arm as Ash finally begged her, ¡°Stop saying bosom.¡±
¡°Then shall it be my buxom shape that tempts?¡±
¡°Bye,¡± Ash groaned, making away from the conversation as Tebea placed all her might into forcing her in place.
¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± Tebea frantically pled.
Ash did so, turning to face her with a desperately masked smile. She stood silently, awaiting Tebea¡¯s next reluctantly endearing line. Ash could see it bubbling up within her throat, and she could see the dire effort going into keeping the words down.
¡°Be it a sin to tell a lie at an altar so pure? If so, make a sinner of me as I lie atop you!¡± She finally exploded. It seemed to give her half the pleasure of the night just to make a single stupid joke, and somehow it made Ash even crazier about the stranger.
Ash still retained a measure of control, looking Tebea up and down before simply saying, ¡°No.¡±
¡°Okay, I¡¯m sorry. Can I still come?¡± Tebea finally said, dropping the accent and her head. It was not done for shame, but to make herself seem smaller as she looked up at Ash with her big pleading eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll stop talking,¡± she lied.
Ash let slip a reluctant snort as the straight-faced mask crumbled and allowed a toothy grin to break free. She offered her hand to the woman and said, ¡°Take the fervour of your tongue and... put it to use beyond speech.¡±
¡°Marry me,¡± Tebea immediately gasped.
¡°I¡¯m not that kinda girl. That¡¯s a third date, at least!¡±
¡°Don¡¯t make me beg, cos¡¯ I have no pride, I absolutely will.¡±
¡°Noted,¡± Ash smirked. ¡°Now come on.¡±
¡°Wait,¡± Tebea choked as they started to make away. Ash turned to face her, though she looked like an entirely different woman. Her eyes fell to Ash¡¯s boots and her hands danced over her leathers, settling on and covering up her cotton-chainmail belly. ¡°You¡¯re different,¡± she whispered.
¡°Good different or bad different?¡± Ash asked warmly.
¡°Just different. The girl I met in Maester Veil could barely speak to me, the woman before me is leading me by the hand. I just... I don¡¯t think you¡¯re ready.¡±
¡°Not ready? You said it yourself; I¡¯m leading you,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Not by your own will, Snowangel... I¡¯m not human, not like you are,¡± Tebea whispered, shame oozing from every word. ¡°Tell me, have you ever been this forward with anyone else?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve just never met the right person,¡± Ash hesitantly answered. ¡°I... know you aren¡¯t human. Amell told me. You¡¯re a vampris ¨C or something close.¡±
¡°Then Lord Fielder is mistaken,¡± she sighed. ¡°I am not vampris, I am a lilitu.¡±
¡°A what?¡±
¡°The spawn of a vampris and an incubus. One of a kind, I''m afraid. Not a natural conception, of course. I¡¯m... cursed.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t care what you are, Tebea... or spider, or whatever name you prefer. Look, yeah, I¡¯m different. How could I not be? Since we last met, I won a siege while outnumbered fifty-to-one. I¡¯ve battled and beaten Veytor inquisitors. I¡¯ve tamed a direwolf, murdered in cold blood, and battled my way across the continent. I¡¯ve become the Champion of War and I¡¯ve defeated a demon of wonder. How could I be the same nervous girl after all that?¡±
She took Tebea¡¯s hands into her own and forced her gaze.
¡°I don¡¯t know what a lilitu is, or what it means that you are one, but I know that before tonight, I have never smiled so hard and for so long that my cheeks ached. Before tonight, the idea of dancing amongst a crowd of nobles would have made my skin crawl. Tebs, before tonight, the idea of... absconding would have twisted my belly with fright. Look at me, do I look scared?¡±
¡°Do the rabbits know to look scared when they hop into your snares?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t need to snare rabbits, they¡¯re too easy to catch. I only need to trap the game that poses a threat to me. Am I a threat to you, Tebea?¡± She stepped even closer, craning her neck slightly towards her infernal paramour.
¡°More than you know,¡± Tebea sighed longingly. ¡°Angels and devils rarely get along for long. Eventually, nature takes control. What might my devilish nature force me to do to you?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve got a few suggestions.¡±
¡°Oh, I hope so,¡± Tebea breathed as she bridged the final gap between their yearning lips.
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Spider & The Sparrow (Part Two).
The Spider didn¡¯t move when they made it to her room. She just stood there, basking in the thick pool of moonlight. It was an image saved and painted in the deepest recesses of the mind. A moment she knew ¨C even then ¨C that she would never forget. Ash took a step but the sideways glance of sanguine eyes forced her in place.
¡°We¡¯ve known each other for an hour and a day. No matter the... heat, we can¡¯t truly love each other. Not yet,¡± Tebea whispered as her delicate hands climbed to the strap of her faux armour. ¡°But for tonight, let¡¯s imagine. Let¡¯s imagine love and let us hold it until it burns and scars. Love me like you love the night. Love me like you¡¯ve never been loved before. Hold me like you hold the world together. Hold me like you¡¯ve never been held before... And for the next thing... well, we probably don¡¯t need to pretend a first for that.¡±
The buckle quit its resistance and the first strap gave away, though she was yet wrapped in her blood-coloured leathers.
¡°And, should a point come where you imagine the love slipping, even for a single breath... cling to it. Grasp it like the sharp of a blade, so tight it cuts the vein. Then, if the blade proves too slicked with blood to grip any longer, let it go in silence... and let me live in loveless love for this night alone. You can forget me on the morrow, but please, pretend this night is the first of a million.¡±
The next buckle came away and Ash could no longer stand to see her alone. She cupped the smaller woman¡¯s cheek in her one true hand. Their hearts beat at the same time, their breath fluttered and clashed in the stagnant room. Ambrosia and sweat, love and lust.
Ash was so brave as to force herself into Tebea¡¯s gaze. The sanguine was not so absolute as it had seemed from even a single pace away. There was a tiny fleck of something hazel. So little, she doubted even Tebea knew it was there, but Ash could see it now, but more than that she could see just how deep her eyes went.
Darkness, consuming and avaricious, that peered out at all who peered within. She couldn¡¯t help but freeze for a moment, her planned words dissolving into the abyss.
¡°What do you see?¡± Tebea whispered.
¡°The ghost that was. The girl that died. There¡¯s a speck of hazel in your eyes, is that what they used to look like?¡± Ash answered, her voice just as hushed.
¡°Once, a long time ago.¡±
¡°Back when you were Tebea?¡±
¡°Back when I was Tabby-cat,¡± Tebea said with as much of a giggle as a mournful sight.
¡°Do you want to be her again, even just for tonight?¡±
¡°She died. It¡¯s generally considered ill form to exhume dead little girls.¡±
¡°Then Tebs it stays,¡± Ash squeaked. ¡°But I can promise you, Tebs, whatever happens tonight, I won¡¯t be pretending anything.¡±
¡°You¡¯ll still hold me in on the morrow?¡± Tebs pled.
¡°And the next, and the next.¡±
¡°What then? When you realise what I am; what will you do then?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll not grip the blade by the sharp, but by the pommel.¡±
¡°Easy to say,¡± Tebea breathed as she wrapped her slender arms around Ash¡¯s neck. ¡°But blade and pommel look the same when we blow out the lights.¡±
¡°Then let''s leave the curtains open tonight. The stars will light the way.¡±
The kiss closed and the leathers fell to the floor. Her curves of divine sin shimmered beneath the voyeur moon. A thousand stars sparkled atop her pale flesh as she slowly helped Ash unclip her sparrow-marked cloak. She stepped to Ash¡¯s back and fumbled with her shoulder pad, then with her gauntlet and her sleeve, kissing and loving each inch of exposed flesh as she stripped away her armour.
She took Ash¡¯s left hand in her own and tried to find some seam to split before Ash pulled her hand away. ¡°It doesn¡¯t come off,¡± Ash admitted, slightly ashamed. ¡°But I can still feel it.¡±
¡°Can you?¡± Tebea smirked, taking the warm steel and stroking it against her cheek.
¡°I can ¡®sheath¡¯ it for a little while, if you want?¡± Ash offered, though she quickly hushed as Tebea gently bit down on her metal finger.
¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she sighed. Her slender hands slipped beneath Ash¡¯s breastplate and in a single motion, it fell to the ground with a thunderous clash. Once Tebea had torn the weight from her shoulders, Ash could draw her first unencumbered breath in weeks.
She pressed her hand into Ash¡¯s chest and gently forced her back into bed.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Raven hair mixed with ashen as the dark fiend hovered an inch over her heroic counterpart. Ash reached for a kiss, but it barely lasted a moment before Tebea broke it.
¡°Promise to love me come the dawn?¡± Tebea whispered.
¡°I promise to love you till the sun rises no more, then I¡¯ll light a new one and name her Tebea.¡±
It was a kiss and a hug and a caress and so much beyond. It was laughter, though nothing was truly funny. It was breathless compliments and silent admissions of things Ash didn¡¯t even know about herself. It was a kind of honesty that couldn¡¯t be brought about by words, only instinct and passion.
Words failed her and thoughts fled. It was not a submission to carnal pleasure, but an active effort to make joy of each other. She could have traced every measure of her partner. Between the stray hairs caught between their increasingly skilful kisses and the tickles of Tebea¡¯s overlong nails; The discoveries of divots and hidden scars within her perfect form; The smudging of makeup and the self-conscious moans of delight. There was more to be learnt between those delicate silk sheets than in a thousand conversations.
Ash mapped each spot on her lover that made her writhe and shiver beneath her. She traced each moonbeam and stroked the paths between freckles and spots.
The night grew longer and longer, yet all too short. She could feel Tebea¡¯s pulse on her lips during every slow and teasing kiss.
What Tebea had said was true, it could not be love that bound them in their throws. Love would be a child, forged and nurtured over time and with great effort. It was not love at first sight, though love could come with all sights seen in the gathering years. But this... was heat, passion, infatuation and attraction. This was desire and lust and madness, utter madness. A flame of mind that had drawn a sparrow into the web of a spider. A crazed idiocy that had made a quivering fool of the conquering Champion.
A moment, just a moment, of absolute ¨C inadvisable ¨C ecstasy; cries and screams and the untold agony of knowing it would soon come to an end.
A tryst of heat, sworn to last until the last star burnt cold. A vow in this moment, in her arms, that seemed like the easiest thing in the whole wide world.
Then came the final temptation of the night. She collapsed into her pillow, and Tebea collapsed into her, where ragged and blissful breaths lulled her off to sleep; off to her dreams. She didn¡¯t want to dream, not tonight. Her dreams hadn¡¯t been her own in so long, but this night belonged to her and she would not let the silent Goden stain or steal away the memory.
And so, she lay there with steady and even breaths. The ever-cold flesh of her Tebea pressed into her breast as the two lay, both unaware that the other lay awake. After an hour, or maybe ten, Ash must have made some subtle motion beneath conscious efforts. Something that had told the other that both lay silent and awake.
Tebea fussed and groaned as she nuzzled deeper into Ash¡¯s chest, but eventually, she relented and ¨C resting her chin against Ash¡¯s collar ¨C she smirked beneath the pale moonlight.
¡°Scared of sleeping with a spooky Vampris in your room? I promise not to suck you dry,¡± she whispered.
¡°What am I even here for, then?¡± Ash snorted. She ran her hand through Tebea¡¯s thick black mass of hair and stroked an errand loc from her eyes. ¡°What about you? Am I not a comfy pillow?¡±
¡°You are luxury in excess, snowangel. But I don¡¯t sleep.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t sleep?¡± Ash dumbly repeated.
¡°Nor do I eat or drink... or blink or breathe. My muscles don¡¯t ache, my belly doesn¡¯t fill. Hells, my heart doesn¡¯t even beat.¡±
¡°Yes, it does,¡± Ash insisted. ¡°I could feel it while we were...¡±
¡°I told you already: Hearts beat and flutter in your presence, Snowangel, no matter how dead the heart.¡± She took Ash¡¯s hand and pressed it against her neck and, sure enough, she found no pulse.
¡°Your heart only beats when you¡¯re,¡± Ash struggled to find the right word, but finally settled on, ¡°heated?¡±
¡°Heated?¡± Tebea laughed. ¡°No amount of ¡®heat¡¯ can kickstart a heart, believe me, I¡¯ve tried.¡±
¡°Then why could I feel your pulse?¡±
¡°I have no idea. It happened back in Maester Veil, too. The first time you looked me in the eyes, I felt a flutter, like my heart skipped over a beat it hadn¡¯t drummed. Since then, I¡¯ve wanted nothing more than to feel again. Anything, a flutter, a fear... anything. I guess I finally got my wish.¡±
¡°Was it worth the wait?¡± Ash timidly asked.
¡°I¡¯ll tell you in the morning,¡± Tebs winked. ¡°So, go to sleep. I¡¯ll just... watch you creepily in the dark.¡±
¡°You really can¡¯t sleep? Even if you tried?¡±
¡°Nope,¡± she sighed. ¡°But I can just... fade away for a while. I¡¯m still awake, aware, just less so.¡±
¡°Well, would you mind if I tried something?¡± Ash offered.
Tebea smirked straight away and said with a cackle, ¡°I¡¯m here for all of your experimental needs, angel. Try whatever you like on me.¡±
¡°N- not like that,¡± Ash grunted with half a smile. ¡°I can... place people into a dream, or at least I think I can. I¡¯ve only done it three or four times, and three of those weren¡¯t intentional.¡±
¡°Place me in a dream? I didn¡¯t take you for a mage? But somnomancy doesn¡¯t work on my kind.¡±
¡°I¡¯m no mage, it¡¯s a Champion thing.¡± Ash sat up slowly and Tebea was forced to follow her up. They wrapped themselves in silk sheets as Ash sat against the headboard and Tebea positioned herself against Ash¡¯s shoulder.
¡°It probably won¡¯t work, angel, but feel free to give it a go,¡± Tebea whispered, nuzzling deeper into Ash¡¯s shoulder.
¡°Alright, close your eyes,¡± Ash softly ordered. She placed her steel hand atop Tebea¡¯s stone heart as she focused on the feeling she had gathered last time, when she lay abed with Sujin.
She steadied her breath and noticed Tebea mimicking her pace. It didn¡¯t seem intentional but it was obvious. Quietly, almost silently, she whispered into Tebea¡¯s ear, ¡°Sleep.¡±
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Spider & The Sparrow (Part Three).
On the shores of some sunlit lands stood two arguing sisters. The elder, a marked and scarred woman, verged on shouting and cursing while the younger, dainty and frail, verged on tears, though she seemed no less resolute.
¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± the younger shouted as her boot stomped into the sand.
¡°Well, I do!¡± the elder spat. ¡°And you will do as you''re told, understand?¡±
¡°No! Not this time!¡±
¡°There¡¯s no other way! Do''y think I want this?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t care what you think! I¡¯d rather die!¡± Sand scattered into the sea as the younger sister stormed away. Her elder allowed her no distance and dogged closely at her heels, shouting all the while.
¡°Good! That¡¯s what you¡¯ll be! Dead, do¡¯y hear? You¡¯ll be a corpse at the bottom of the sea, and there¡¯ll be no mermaids to dance with ye!¡± She gripped the younger¡¯s shoulder hard enough to make her wince as she was torn around to face the elder.
¡°You¡¯re hurting me,¡± the younger whimpered.
¡°I¡¯ll do what I have to, to keep you safe. Yer¡¯ coming with me, and that¡¯s final,¡± she seethed much more quietly but with no less flame. The elder sister grabbed the younger by her arm and dragged her ¨C kicking and screaming ¨C away to some dark place.
¡°Tebea?¡± Ash called out in the empty black space. She received no reply but that of the gentle sound of lapping ocean waves. The taste of salt lingered on her tongue as a fine mist of ocean water seemed to soak her from nowhere.
¡°I¡¯m- I¡¯m here,¡± a much younger voice answered. ¡°Are you... real?¡±
¡°Tebs, of course I¡¯m real,¡± Ash whispered. She turned to face where the voice had come from and found, bundled in some dark chamber, the younger sister.
¡°Are you here to change me?¡± the young girl asked, her voice broken after so long of silence.
¡°Change you? No, of course not.¡±
¡°Who are you?¡± She asked.
¡°I¡¯m- Ashtik? You are Tebea, aren¡¯t you?¡±
¡°I- I think,¡± the girl rasped. ¡°I might not have changed yet. I m-might still be me.¡±
Ash knelt before the shivering girl. She must have been younger than Evara and twice as frail. Every instinct within Ash yearned to comfort the little child with her big hazel eyes. Ash tore her shoulder cloak and wrapped what little of it she could around her.
¡°What do you mean?¡± Ash asked. ¡°Changed how?¡±
¡°I- The curse, the ¡®medicine¡¯, it¡¯s changing me. It- it hurts,¡± she cried.
¡°How can I help?¡± Ash begged, hugging the child as tightly as her frail little form could take.
¡°Let me die. Please...¡±
¡°I- there must be some other way?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t want to feel like this anymore. Please, let me die,¡± she pled.
¡°I- I can¡¯t.¡±
¡°Then what good are you?¡± She spat, her voice taking on the deeper more mature cadence of her elder self.
¡°Tebea?¡± Ash gasped. In an instant, the girl was gone. The chamber of stone and iron was empty but for a shadow clinging to the roof.
¡°My, oh my... What a pretty snack,¡± a familiar voice cackled in an unfamiliar way. She dropped to the ground without a sound as her bloody eyes burned through the darkness.
¡°Tebs, what¡¯s going on?¡± Ash hesitantly asked. The crazed look on the other woman put Ash on edge. She stood ready to be attacked though she hoped the dream would break before then.
¡°Tebs, hey?¡± She mockingly repeated, pacing along the cold chamber. She twitched constantly. By the violence of her spasms, she might have been trying to snap her own bones. Her feet bolted and jolted left and right, like some pained tap dancer, as she took each slow step. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard that one before.¡±
Her hand pressed against the cold stone wall, then her foot, then her whole body. She slowly writhed her way up, her limbs dislocating and stretching terribly far.
¡°Tebs, please, it''s me,¡± Ash whispered as Tebea disappeared into a high-up shadow.
¡°Ooh, did we know each other before?¡± She cackled from every direction. ¡°Good, that makes it better. I wonder what you did to get sent in here? Kill one of my sister¡¯s toys? Sneeze during a speech?¡±
¡°Tebea, it''s Ash. This is just a dream.¡±
¡°A dream?¡± She scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ve slept quite enough, thank you. I don¡¯t intend on losing any more of my life to false realities.¡±
¡°Then wake up,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°Remember the silk sheets and being in my arms. Wake up to that.¡±
¡°In your arms? My, isn¡¯t someone presumptuous. You know what, though? I think you¡¯re right. It is time I woke up in silk sheets. All I need is a little more strength. What do you say, Snowy? Wanna fill me up?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t call me Snowy,¡± Ash spat, suddenly angry.
¡°Ooh, a soft spot. I wonder why? Makes no difference now, I suppose. A pretty young lass is just the boost I need to get out of here.¡± Ash couldn¡¯t see her, but she was just a step behind. So close that, had she been breathing, her breath would have fluttered against Ash¡¯s neck.
¡°If you won¡¯t wake up, Tebs,¡± Ash whispered, ¡°I¡¯ll just have to smack you awake. Sorry about this.¡±
¡°Oh, no hard feelings, Snowy. Just close your eyes, this¡¯ll be over soon. Or don¡¯t, the adrenaline adds flavour.¡±
Tebea tore through the inches between them, but her fang found no flesh. As she clamped her jaw down over the left of Ash¡¯s neck, a steel plate caught her bite. She nearly shattered her tooth against it, but she certainly shattered her nose against the steel fist as it wrapped around in a flash.
Tebea fell to the ground with an agonising cry. She wasted no time, though. Just as quick as her first attack, she launched another. Vicious and frantic, her arms flailed against the Sparrow, but Ash simply wrapped her steel hand around her throat and held her to the wall.
¡°Enough,¡± Ash declared. ¡°Tebs, I¡¯m sorry I put you through this, but you need to wake up!¡±
¡°I am awake!¡± she spat.
¡°No, you aren¡¯t! You¡¯re in bed with me. We¡¯ve just spent the day dancing and laughing. I don¡¯t know where we are right now, but it isn¡¯t real.¡±
¡°Ha, you¡¯re as delusional as her! Sure, this isn¡¯t real. Go ahead and let me go, I¡¯ll show you how fake I really am,¡± Tebea choked as she clawed away at Ash¡¯s hand.
¡°Delusional as who?¡± Ash demanded, though her voice couldn¡¯t help but waver.
¡°Who? My sister! The rotten bitch who sent you here.¡±
¡°Did your sister lock you in here?¡±
¡°What? No, of course not. I put myself in here, obviously. I mean, have you seen the views? Breathtaking, really; and I don¡¯t just mean that cos¡¯ you¡¯ve got your bitch mittens around my throat,¡± Tebea venomously spat.
¡°Why did she lock you in here?¡± Ash asked, ignoring Tebea¡¯s frantic attacks.
¡°Because I¡¯m prettier,¡± Tebea choked sarcastically. ¡°Or maybe she¡¯s just ashamed of what she did to me.¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
¡°What did she do, Tebs?¡± Ash begged, her voice much softer than would be appropriate.
¡°Gods, are all blondes this dense? The fuck do you think she did to me? Look at me!¡±
Her clothes were ragged and torn. Her hair, matted and grimy. She looked as though she hadn¡¯t taken a bath since childhood while each of her muscles seemed to be utterly atrophied from disuse. Her sunken red eyes held none of the fire of Tebs¡¯ sanguine gems. The tips of her fingers had been gnawed through while track marks along her arms suggested she had been biting down like a hungry animal against herself.
¡°She cursed you? Why?¡±
¡°Are we gonna chat all day? ¡®Cos I¡¯ve got places to be. Why don¡¯t you ask me when you wake up, Snowy?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t... call me Snowy,¡± Ash warned again, tightening her grip.
¡°But so fair of hair and deep of skin, what could I name you but the palest of snow or darkest of ash? I¡¯ll tell you though, there can be no more beautiful a sight than a crimson spray on fresh fallen snow.¡±
The talk of ash and snow had brought the dream elsewhere. The figure of the broken woman shattered like ice in her hand. The shards became snow-filled pines atop a mountain of cold and pain.
It may have been a dream, but the cold of dreaming shivers the spine all the same as the cold of the day. She might have called out for her one-night love, but the whistling of the breeze against some distant other mountain would have made for her only response. She didn¡¯t know how she knew so, but she did. Knowledge of the lands filled her; knowledge Ash couldn¡¯t have possessed.
She knew that these were the barrier mountains of Xem Da¡¯ark. A thousand armies had clashed against these rocks, and a thousand armies had been shattered and repelled like the vicious ¨C yet ultimately impotent ¨C tides.
The moisture of her ragged breath froze against her lips and unshed solidified along her eyelashes. She wiped away what ice she could, though each movement in her plate armour was agonising. Her flesh caught and stuck to the frozen steel, tearing and ripping with each major movement.
¡°How old are you, childe?¡± A voice, just as frozen as the trees and mountains, asked in some distant place.
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± a girl admitted. ¡°I¡¯ve... slept for a long time.¡±
¡°What year did you fall asleep?¡± The voice asked, though it seemed to be much closer now. Ash hadn¡¯t moved, yet the whole world had seemed to warp around her. She found herself at the mouth of a cave, sharp icicles gnashing her away. She pushed through the cave¡¯s frigid breath and walked into the mouth of the beast, ever-sure that her path lay within.
¡°It was the hundred and eighty-fifth year. I... don¡¯t remember how long it has been,¡± the girl whispered.
¡°How old were you when you slept?¡±
¡°Eleven,¡± she weakly answered.
¡°And you have experienced no days since?¡±
¡°N-no.¡±
¡°Then we have your age, childe. That was eight years ago. Physically, you are nineteen, but in truth, you are still that eleven-year-old. You are not ready for all the world will present you in your adult state. You must be protected, raised. Come with me. I will take care of you.¡±
¡°What- what¡¯s your name?¡± she quietly asked.
¡°A name?¡± the voice repeated, seemingly amused. ¡°What is in a name but a function? Tell me childe, what am I to you?¡±
¡°You¡¯re- kind to me,¡± she answered.
¡°Then I am Kind, a pleasure to meet you, little one.¡±
Ash had thought that the speaker might have resided within the cavern. Their voices echoed from roof to floor, though they were as inconstant in volume as a cracking flame. She burrowed deeper. Soon enough there was no longer enough light within to see the path forward. She stumbled over some shaded rock. Her legs struggled to find steady ground. They sunk into what should have been solid rock. Lower and lower she fell. Her hips passed under, then her shoulders, then her neck.
A beaming orange light flooded the cavern as her mouth was consumed by the melting cavern floor. She could see its source as the world swallowed her whole. A raven-haired girl stood before a great glass lantern, one hundred men tall. She placed her hand against its gentle glossy surface and a sharp black oval, encircled by the orange light, slowly moved towards her. It narrowed before the girl but seemed to shoot up towards Ash just before she sunk completely beneath the surface.
She was the first to rise. They had collapsed onto each other, Tebea¡¯s head resting on her shoulder. By the way the rising sun set across her pale face, it might have been an ideal sight to awaken to. Tebea looked... peaceful in her rest. A gentle smile hung from her lips as she dug herself deeper into Ash¡¯s neck and shoulder.
The chance at an ideal morrow would be dashed soon enough. The inevitable conversation would doubtlessly ruin their perfect peace. Ash decided not to move, not to breathe, not to chance waking her. She would hold on to this moment for as long as she could, even if it was just a few seconds longer.
¡°Is- is it dawn?¡± Tebea whispered, her voice choked with sleep.
¡°Aye.¡±
¡°Aye,¡± Tebea teased, finally opening her eyes. By the way the sapphire dawn caught in her sanguine eyes, Ash could see a new version of Tebea¡¯s gaze. Not the veiled lust she had contained during their dance; not the strange earnestness of her pleas for love and friendship; not even the good humour of her default demeanour. Ash caught a shimmering, hazel glimpse of something new. Anxiety.
¡°Tebs... about las-¡±
¡°-Shall we get some food, dear? You¡¯ve worked quite the appetite up in me,¡± Tebea said as she rose from the bed, dashing away from Ash¡¯s embrace.
¡°Tebs-¡±
¡°-Not hungry? I mustn''t have done a very good job. Come, come, lets away.¡±
¡°Tebea,¡± Ash snapped. ¡°Slow down.¡±
She did. Her head fell low as she stopped in her tracks, halfway to the door.
¡°I-,¡± was all she could manage for a moment. ¡°I had hoped for at least a third date... before I tried t- to kill you.¡±
¡°It was just a dream,¡± Ash softly said.
¡°No, it wasn¡¯t. It was a memory. Me, just a couple of years younger.¡±
¡°How much younger?¡± Ash pointedly asked.
¡°Ten winters,¡± Tebea admitted. ¡°I woke up ten winters past, but I was born twenty-nine ago. I lost eight years while I... changed.¡±
¡°You didn¡¯t seem eleven when you were in that prison,¡± Ash said.
¡°I... wasn¡¯t. Not that time. I¡¯ve spent a lot of my life alone in different cells, angel.¡±
Tebea turned to face Ash, her face a mask of shattered ivory. Between the cracks, Ash could see the creature it restrained. Pale beyond what a pigment of flesh could possibly allow. Damaged and broken beyond what a mind could contain. She could see the sickness in her soul and the agony in the tears she could no longer shed.
¡°I¡¯ll die before I am bound again,¡± she swore.
¡°Nobody will hurt you, Tebs. I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±
¡°It''s not everybody else I¡¯m scared of. My... condition is more than just pretty eyes and a lack of sleep. I... hurt people ¨C I have to ¨C but it feels... good when I do it. It''s a hard feeling to resist.¡± It wasn¡¯t the admittance of hurting people that made her voice strain, but the mention of the ecstasy of the act. Even simply mentioning her strained indulgence forced her gaze to grow bloody and her one shard-like tooth to shimmer like a diamond.
¡°But you can resist it, can¡¯t you?¡± Ash said with a pleading curiosity.
¡°I swore never to be bound or ruled, not by chains or queens or addictions. It doesn¡¯t matter if I can; I will.¡± She seemed to sheathe her tooth as her lethal leer climbed to an anxious look.
¡°Is there anything else I should have asked before last night?¡± Ash half-jokingly asked.
¡°Lots, but not all of it interesting. I¡¯ll say that my other half does not act to drain in the same way my Vampris part does. It soothes and comforts, and makes gentle a violent victim. It lulls the most guarded of men into bawling messes. It makes you feel like you can divulge your most guarded secrets to me. I... don¡¯t get a choice. It''s not something I can light or extinguish,¡± the Spider shamefully admitted.
¡°I don¡¯t have any secrets,¡± Ash whispered.
¡°Maybe not, but one day you will, and then you¡¯ll have to disregard me. The risk is just too great. I made Lord Fielder break down into tears after a single conversation, what will I do to you after I fall in love?¡±
¡°We can cross that bridge when we get to it. I promise Tebs, I¡¯ll stick by your side so long as you stick by mine.¡±
¡°You will regret that... or I will. Either way, I will be here until the end ¨C mine or yours.¡±
Chapter Twenty-Six: Tricky Little Plans (Part One).
A dance has a beginning, a middle and an end. A build-up and a crescendo; flair and subtly. In these things, a dance can be much like a battle. Two partners might toe the line of a battlefield and silently learn the rhythms of the other. The master of that rhythm is the master of the dance ¨C the master of the war. One difference remains, immutably. A dance is made of a hundred flowing and graceful steps and movements; a battle is made of a thousand crushed bones and torn throats. The delicate flow of vast combat, when seen from afar, may seem so gentle and intimate as a dance, but Ash was not stood afar.
The dirt was so sullied with fresh blood that she couldn¡¯t keep her footing for more than a couple paces at a time. A wall of halberds and pikes stood before her, they each made dwarfs of her own spear. Steel-clad warriors surrounded her with iron shields as tall as they were. Their armour made for something of a disadvantage, though. While their enemies charged on horseback and circled the area with ease, the Forgelanders sank deep into the mud on account of their thick plate armour.
The opposition was as light as they had expected, a spare garrison force in a formation of half-lame sumpter horses. They hadn¡¯t, however, counted on the terrain. It became obvious that the Forgelanders had never been so deep into the Bloodlands. The thick, vibrant mud had swallowed their vanguard as soon as they had stepped out of the portal. The men stumbled and slipped over constantly as they rapidly deployed to form a defensive perimeter.
¡°Champion!¡± A blood-sullied banner bearer cried over the storm of hooves. ¡°Your orders?¡±
Ash thought on the plan as arrows hailed all around her. She needed to prepare the landing zone for siege artillery. That meant they needed to widen their defences further. The Forgelanders were experts in defensive combat, but in this battle, they had to act as the aggressors.
¡°Push out!¡± Ash boomed. ¡°We need solid ground!¡±
¡°Huah! Pace east!¡± The bannerman shouted. An ornate flag of lilac and azure rose from the dirt and waded away from the setting sun. A drumbeat followed his struggled march. The men stomped to its slow but powerful tempo. Despite the chaos of the landing, the men marched in a remarkably ordered fashion.
They arranged in a triangle wedge with its flat base at the fore. Shield bearers stood like a layer of skin around them while the pikemen threatened away any attempts by the Bloodland cavalry.
Her vanguard was small, a thousand men with only six bannermen. She fell to the centre of the formation and watched her men march as one of three captains came to her side.
¡°Champion,¡± he saluted as he waded his way through the mud and men. ¡°The sortie has been repelled; the garrison seems to be returning to their keep.¡±
¡°Should we try to stop them?¡± Ash asked.
¡°That wouldn¡¯t be wise, Champion. The Bloodlanders are strong on horseback, even these weak nags. They become less a threat atop stone walls.¡± He struggled to match her pace as they followed the crowd. His heavy plate ¨C and his well-seasoned belly ¨C seemed to sink him much deeper into the mud than her.
¡°Alright,¡± Ash said with a false confidence. ¡°When we find firm ground, I want the walls set up quickly.¡±
¡°Of course, Champion. The support corps have the lumber at the ready. What fort type shall we establish?¡±
¡°There are different types?¡± Ash thought, realising anew just how unqualified she was for this command. ¡°Whatever your men can do simply and quick,¡± she boldly said. ¡°I don¡¯t intend to be here long.¡±
¡°Of course, Champion. We shall set up an arrow shield and some cavalry traps then.¡± The captain saluted her before wading off towards a group of distant sergeants.
The skies were clear, but the day was waning. By the count of her support unit, fifty of her men would not see the coming dusk. An acceptable loss by military standards, but an agonising fact to her. Fifty men had died ¨C or were dying ¨C in her name, by her order, by her incompetence.
She stepped on the solid oak planks that had been laid as a base for their quickly strengthening fort. It wouldn¡¯t be too long before they could bring in Donaleaf and his relief force. She patrolled the open platforms that had been left for artillery emplacements and the bunkers meant for the men to catch some quick rest.
A captain caught her as she slipped out of the bunker. It wasn¡¯t the same man she had spoken to earlier; this man was taller and bald. His armour held the lilac trim of whatever house these men belonged to.
¡°Sparrow-Knight,¡± he saluted in the Forgeland fashion, with his right fist held at his eye-level. ¡°We have a report for you.¡±
¡°What is it?¡± Ash demanded as confidently as she could.
¡°A messenger arrived from the keep. The castellan, a Lord Mikor, wishes to parley with the general of this army. We don¡¯t believe he knows that you are here,¡± the captain reported.
¡°Parley?¡± Ash repeated, unsure of the word.
¡°A meeting, Sparrow. He wishes to discuss terms. He may seek to surrender but it is doubtful.¡±
¡°Could it be a trap? A means to draw me out in the open?¡±
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
¡°I doubt it, my lady. Parley is a vow of the gods. To breach the vow would be to become a heretic. This castle is but a few day''s ride of the Veytor¡¯s main fortress, they wouldn¡¯t risk their wrath so haphazardly,¡± he said stoically.
¡°Then I will meet with him and hope for easy terms.¡± Her gaze fell to her marked hand as she gripped the air tightly. Something within it tingled. A static power, like thunder before a strike. It felt good, natural.
The parley group was as small as was appropriate. Two sergeants rode at her sides, each carrying the banners of House Donaleaf and the flag of the Forgelands. Only four more guards rode behind, while she sauntered at the fore.
Slowly, they approached the greyish stone walls. Cracks seemed to climb from their foundations. Rubble piled beneath the battlements where age had stripped the walls of their capstones. The merlons along the parapet had been smoothed over untold centuries into rounded nubs with cracked and weathered arrow slits. Some lacked sides where the arrow slits had compromised the merlon¡¯s structure.
The castle was in a poor state, but for the draw bridge hanging over the deep trench. The wood seemed well travelled, but much newer and stronger than the rest of the castle. The whole village beside the castle walls seemed inexplicably better made to boot.
It became obvious to Ash that despite the wealth and power of this castle, and the village surrounding it, they had never felt the need to invest in its defences. They must have believed their secure position deep within the Bloodlands would allow them all the security they would require.
¡°Hark!¡± A woman¡¯s voice called from atop the battlements. ¡°Who approaches?¡±
Ash drew on her most commanding voice, dropping her voice to her belly and bellowing out, ¡°Ashtik, Sparrow-Knight and ally to the good King Asmond of House Donaleaf!¡±
¡°Approach then, Sparrow-Knight! Step to the draw bridge and bring no more than one guard!¡± The woman ordered.
¡°My lady,¡± a sergeant whispered. ¡°That is a highly unusual request. The lord castellan ought to approach us through the gate.¡±
¡°Why is it you wish me to enter your city?¡± Ash called back. ¡°Am I not to parley with your leader?¡±
¡°These are the terms of our lord¡¯s parley. Abide or leave,¡± the woman coldly said.
¡°Sparrow, we should leave. This is too strange. It might be that they have ill intent,¡± the same sergeant insisted.
¡°I am protected by the vow of parley, right?¡± Ash insisted.
¡°You should be, but... you are the Heretic of Black. It is possible they do not believe attacking you would be a breach of this holy vow,¡± he whispered urgently. ¡°It is not worth the risk, they will surrender when our artillery breaches their walls, we ought to leave.¡±
¡°But how many civilians will die in the bombardment? We must give them a chance to escape the bloodshed, surely?¡± Ash said.
¡°They may have no intent on surrender, Sparrow. The decision is, of course, yours but I highly advise caution.¡±
¡°And your advice is noted. If the risk of death is so high, I shall attend this alone. Await me here, if I don¡¯t return... well, this whole prophecy shit¡¯s been a big waste of time, right?¡±
She dismounted her borrowed mare, a beautiful chestnut creature of all too few years to face this battle. She slid Ser Stabby from her saddle and mounted him on her back before taking a deep breath and heading onwards.
¡°Will you honour the parley?¡± she demanded as she approached the closed iron gate.
¡°I shall,¡± a raspy, boyish little voice replied. Behind the gate, a precession carried forth their lord... though lordling might have been a more apt term. The boy couldn¡¯t have been older than eleven, even despite his near regal raiments. ¡°So, you are the Black Heretic I¡¯ve heard so much about.¡± A tuft of long blonde hair fell before his freckled little face.
¡°I don¡¯t care for the Conclave¡¯s names, nor should you. My legitimacy has no bearing here, only my army,¡± Ash coldly said, trying her best to speak to the boy as though he were a man. He approached the thick iron gate, it being the only thing parting the two, with slow and methodical steps.
¡°You misunderstand me, Heretic,¡± the boy rasped in his strange accent. It seemed the common tongue was not his native. Each word poured as honey from his lips, like each word was a silken poem told just for her. ¡°I admit I am curious of your nature. A legend is quickly growing in your name. A commoner, raised in a day to a general. A huntress with the skill to hunt a demon. Some of my own men have come to... admire you, in some perverse way. I am not like them. I am a man of the gods, and I will not abide a heretic.¡±
¡°You are not a man at all,¡± Ash scoffed. ¡°If you wish to see the day where otherwise can be said; surrender.¡±
A pious scoff found the little lord. He had a strange steel in his hazel gaze. A determination and righteousness. ¡°My gods will strike you down, Heretic, and I shall be their fist. Break yourself against my walls. Shed your blood upon my blades. In the end, the gods reign, and the apostates always fall,¡± he spat.
¡°This is your one chance, little lord. Let your common folk leave. I give you my word ¨C and the word of my Goden ¨C that no harm shall befall any who leave now.¡±
¡°I have taken shits with more worth than the word of a heretic. I will protect my people, and they shall remain stalwart in the face of your evil. You cannot have them.¡±
¡°I beg you,¡± Ash said, her tone dropping to one of a pleading lady. ¡°Let your people leave. We don¡¯t intend to keep this city. It will be burnt to the ground. Everyone within will die. It doesn¡¯t need to be this way.¡±
The boy looked at her, poison in his glance, and spat. ¡°I shall hope to see you on the field of battle, Heretic. Know that ¨C despite your crimes ¨C the gods can forgive you. I will pray that you earn their mercy in these short hours before your death.¡±
A wooden barrier dropped behind the iron gate and left her alone in the entryway, mournful thoughts her only company.
The static in her hand sparked as she turned away. A single, tiny, shot of power burst out from within and melted a hole through a single rung in the iron gate. Ash barely noticed, beyond the strange tension she could feel building within herself.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Tricky Little Plans (Part Two).
¡°Champion!¡± the bald captain saluted. ¡°We have set up the portal key. The king should be arriving any moment.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± Ash sniffed coldly. ¡°Anything else?¡±
¡°Yes, my lady,¡± another young man answered. Not a warrior like the rest, this boy wore scouting garb. It wasn¡¯t so far from the huntress gear she used to wear, focusing more on agility and sneakery than protection. A set of green leather pads had been stitched to a set of rough cotton underclothes.
¡°Then report,¡± Ash coldly ordered.
¡°Yes,¡± he panted, ¡°I found a weak point in the walls, my lady. An old aqueduct that hasn¡¯t been properly sealed. If we can crumble that wall, a small unit could sneak in and cause havoc.¡±
¡°Good work, how did you find this duct?¡± Ash asked.
¡°I¡¯m an aviline, my lady,¡± the boy answered.
¡°A what?¡±
¡°My... soul magic allows me to transform into a bird, my lady,¡± he explained.
¡°Oh, you have soul magic too?¡± Ash realised. ¡°Interesting... Good work, scout.¡±
She turned her back on him and he took it as a dismissal. ¡°Captain... sorry, I didn¡¯t catch your name?¡±
¡°Sir Bower of Farreach, Champion,¡± he bowed.
¡°Glad to meet you, Sir Bower. I¡¯m Ashtik. Now, I need some of your best men and a way to breach that wall.¡±
¡°You intend to breach it yourself?¡± Bower choked.
¡°Is that not why I¡¯m here? To lead?¡±
¡°You¡¯re a general, my Lady. You lead from the rear. If we lose you, we lose all leadership. The battle will be lost in an instant,¡± he insisted.
¡°The king will be here soon. The command is his to take, until then, you take charge in my place,¡± Ash offered.
¡°That won¡¯t work, my lady. I¡¯m not a nobleman; the other captains and sergeants won¡¯t follow me.¡±
¡°They follow me well enough,¡± Ash pointed out.
¡°Because you are divinely ordained. I¡¯m just a cattle farmer with a knighthood. It doesn¡¯t matter how much I demand it; they won¡¯t follow my orders.¡±
¡°They will do as they are ordered,¡± Ash coldly snapped.
¡°It is a noble idea, my lady, but now is not the time for cultural reforms and ideations of egalitarianism. A lord must lead this army, and I am no lord. So, it must be you.¡±
¡°Fine,¡± Ash groused. ¡°Is there no nobleman amongst the other captains?¡±
Sir Bower seemed to ponder but, when an answer struggled to part his lips, he seemed far from satisfied. ¡°There is a bannerman... Tiene, the second son of some lesser Viscount. It may suffice,¡± he breathily suggested, doubt thick in his words.
¡°Bring him to me,¡± Ash barked.
The man was of an age with Ashtik, that is to say much too young for a military command. His light auburn stubble was barely beyond that of a fifteen-year-old¡¯s. His shaggy brown hair seemed ill-fit for a battlefield, but his soldier¡¯s form suggested that this wasn¡¯t his first fight.
¡°It¡¯s Tiene, right?¡± Ash said with a nod.
¡°It is, Champion,¡± the boy answered.
¡°Well then, Tiene, I¡¯m granting you half the command while I lead the assault on the castle.¡±
¡°Half... the command, my lady?¡± Bower hesitantly repeated.
¡°Aye. The two of you will share the responsibility. All failings will be shared, all successes will be shared. Tiene, you are to defer to Bower¡¯s expertise and help relay his orders to the men, understand?¡± Ash boldly said, making her voice deeper as she spoke.
¡°My lady,¡± the boy sighed, ¡°that seems... highly inappropriate. You cannot grant equal reign to a farmer as you would, I. I am sure Sir Bowel is very experienced, and he has certainly earned his rank, but the command of an entire vanguard force? Some things are best left in the hands of the betters.¡± He didn¡¯t speak haughtily or with an abundance of arrogance. He spoke as though explaining why it was ill-advised to grant a military command to nothing more than a lifelong carpenter. He looked at this man, the son of a cattle farmer, and saw nothing beyond it. Ash realised that to him, this Bower was a farmer pretending to be a soldier, not a soldier born of a farmer.
¡°You¡¯re a soldier, Tiene, nothing else. Not a farmer or the son of a lord. You are as powerful as your right arm can swing, and that''s it. Now, I have given you an order. You can obey it to the letter, or you can be tried as a deserter and a coward. The choice is yours,¡± she calmly said, her quiet voice barbed and coiled.
¡°I- I understand, Champion,¡± the boy said as he bowed his head. ¡°As you wish... I shall heed his advice as though it came from the king himself.¡±
¡°Good. Maintain the camp and prepare for the King. Sir Bower, I still need those men.¡±
¡°I- Right away, my Lady,¡± Bower stammered before skirting away.
In a brief moment, four new soldiers appeared before her. Three men and possibly the only other woman on the field. All wore brutal steel armour, slashed and scuffed with countless would-be death blows.
¡°Champion,¡± the captain barked as the soldiers formed a line before her. ¡°This will be your strike team. Sir Colu of Ravenfield; Sir Lucianuk of Summerblight; Sir Tuyen of Herov; and Ahn.¡±
¡°Just Ahn?¡± Ash said in a tone that was meant to be humorous but came out as a squeak.
¡°Yes, Champion. She is unknighted,¡± the captain said.
¡°Right,¡± Ash said. ¡°Well then, what makes you all so special?¡±
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
She turned first to the woman who stood to the far right. Tall and broad with as many scars as freckles. A native forgelander, but she wore strange southern tattoos. Spirals and flowers of myriad colours. Depictions of living ocean waves and the crimson midday sun cresting over them. Her deep black hair was kept long but tightly bound behind her. She wasn¡¯t particularly tall, maybe a fist taller than Ash at most, but she was as muscled as a dragon.
¡°Sparrow,¡± she greeted softly, her voice thick with some strange Western accent. ¡°I a¡¯ shield maiden. Be keepin¡¯ ya back safe.¡±
¡°And I,¡± the man beside her said in a sing-song voice, bowing theatrically, ¡°Am Tuyen. A magician of a most majestic make!¡±
A cloak of flowing silk spilt out from beneath his scarred plate cuirass. Lines of green and orange cotton wove along its deep blue style. His pale flesh seemed so utterly unmarred by battle that Ash assumed he had looted the armour from some fallen comrade.
¡°A magician?¡± Ash repeated. ¡°Any speciality?¡±
¡°All things big and loud love the call of my hands. I hear you have an old wall that needs crumbling. Please, allow me,¡± he said as though performing for some invisible audience.
¡°Ya be dead soon enough, boyo if ya no keep the noise low. This a stealth job,¡± Ahn sighed.
¡°There is room enough beneath the skuldugger¡¯s cloak for a touch of marvel, brute,¡± Tuyen said, venomously.
¡°Holy Champion, it is an honour to be before you,¡± the next man interrupted before a fight could break out between the two.
¡°Sir Lucianuk, right?¡± Ash greeted.
¡°Most just call me Nuk, Champion. I have fought alongside one of your brethren before. I trust above all things, this will be a fight to remember.¡±
¡°One of my brethren?¡± Ash repeated curiously.
¡°The Champion of Green,¡± he said proudly. The blank look on Ash¡¯s face invited his elaboration, ¡°The... Chosen of Taeva the huntress. His name was Kasun Jai-Torr.¡±
¡°Jai-Torr?¡± Ash doubted.
¡°I believe so. Is that strange?¡±
¡°It''s... someone who receives money for... pleasant company. It just... seems a strange calling for the Champion of the hunt.¡±
¡°You strike me as no somnomancer, yet you are Champion of Dreams. The gods work in strange ways. Surely, we ought to simply trust in their vision.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve seen the visions offered by the gods,¡± Ash quietly scoffed. ¡°They must be half mad to make sense of them. I¡¯ll trust in little beyond what my hands grasp, and you might be wise to do the same.¡±
¡°My faith is as great a shield as Ahn¡¯s steel. I won¡¯t doubt the gods, Champion. I know they have a purpose for you, and I pray that I shall play some long role in it,¡± Nuk smiled warmly as he returned to his formal stance, his eyes shooting out to the evening sky.
The final man was no man in any sense she had known. His flesh ¨C being the tone of some deep shade of winter haze - looked to be closer to frozen tree bark than skin. He had not two eyes, but two dozen. His knees bent the wrong way, and he lacked a nose entirely. He was the tallest of the bunch by a notable amount, though no style of giant. Not overly broad or muscular, but by the hardness of his flesh, she wasn¡¯t entirely sure he required muscle as she did.
¡°Child,¡± he whispered, his voice a raspy breeze. In the black beads of his many eyes, two sprouted vibrant orange pupils which locked to her. ¡°Stand behind us during the fighting. We will complete this mission well enough for you.¡±
¡°I do not intend to hide, sir Colu. I will fight alongside you.¡±
¡°Too right,¡± Ahn said with a hint of something close to offence.
¡°This is not a mission for teenagers playing at war. I am sure you are skilled, but skill won¡¯t save you if we are caught behind enemy lines. Keep your head low, your mouth closed and walk close to my back,¡± Colu calmly but firmly said.
¡°You don¡¯t trust me in a fight?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Have you ever fought in a war, child?¡± He asked.
¡°I have fought battles,¡± Ash confidently responded. ¡°Led siege defences and ambushes.¡±
¡°Then you wish to take command of my men? To accept the burden of their lives?¡±
¡°I-¡± Ash stuttered. ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± she might have said. ¡°I don¡¯t want any of this. I just want to go home. I wanna be back in her arms.¡±
¡°I will do what is required of me, always,¡± she finally said, her voice straining between determination and shame.
¡°Then our lives are yours, child. I pray your Goden is as wise in his choice of Champion as he was in his decision to abandon this hateful world.¡± The orange pupils faded into the black pools of his eyes as his oaken face remained utterly unreadable.
¡°What ya mean, she in charge?¡± Ahn exploded, a sense of injustice written plainly across her scarred face. ¡°Got me some boots so old as ¡®er. Be well enough backin ¡®er, but want me bowing? No... I won''t will do it. Birdie-knight can get some uther fool dead.¡±
¡°In line, Ahn,¡± Colu sharply ordered. She grunted for a moment but fell back into form and stood at attention again.
¡°I- I won¡¯t ask you to die for me,¡± Ash said as strongly as she could manage. ¡°Stay here if you¡¯re scared. You¡¯re right to doubt me... But I need to learn how to lead. I ask you not to trust me, but to teach me.¡±
¡°Dis¡¯ no school trip, birdie. We killers, not teachers... But I no coward. If I ta die today, then I die at ya word.¡±
¡°If we work together, if you help me learn, nobody will die,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°Oooh, yar a real virgin here, birdie. We going behind them there walls, someone goin¡¯ die. I make good sure it¡¯s no you,¡± Ahn scoffed. ¡°Even when it mean some better man goin die.¡±
¡°You resent me?¡± Ash said meekly. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°Cos¡¯ ya no soldier. Ya a little girl in big armour. I be fightin¡¯ since fore¡¯ ya was born, yet in a day, ya outrank me. I be fightin since fore¡¯ ya was born, yet I still no knight like you, Sparrow-Knight. Ya move past what a girlie be allowed, what I be allowed. Not cos¡¯ some great feat of ya own, but cos¡¯ ya ¡®chosen¡¯. Ya born lucky; ya born ¡®better¡¯ than me. Now I goin die by ya orders,¡± she ranted, her voice low and bubbling.
¡°I¡¯m not a knight,¡± Ash quietly defended, her eyes falling to the ground. ¡°People just call me that. I¡¯m- a huntress. I don¡¯t want to be anything more, but I don¡¯t have much choice. I¡¯m doing what I have to do. If I don¡¯t... Thats it. No more days, no more nights. No more soldiers and no more knights. The end. I¡¯m not asking you to follow me into your death; I''m asking you to help me prevent it, or at least help me get a little closer to figuring this all out.¡±
¡°I no like ya, birdie,¡± Ahn grunted. ¡°But I know what it mean ta do what ya must. Listen ta Colu, he a wise oak. He help ya live a little longer. Maybe have ya a few wrinkles fore¡¯ ya die.¡±
Chapter Twenty-Six: Tricky Little Plans. (Part Three).
They awaited neither the king nor the night. As the sun grew its sapphire corona, and the shadows of some distant mountain range grew long over the fields of golden grass, Ashtik and her merry men made their way towards the great stone walls.
The castle, if it could be called that in its civil state, was nestled into the side of a great grassy mountain. The near face was a sheer mossy drop while the far held a far continuation of the area¡¯s vast golden fields. A single tree sat at the apex; white leaves bristled gently in the breeze while a fall of blossoms carried down the hill and settled amongst a graveyard of felled tree stumps.
The last whisper of the setting sun bound from the pale stone walls and made evident their every crack and flaw. They wrapped around the city in a single ring with a hundred, hundred houses and stalls clothing its outer bounds. All but the walls themselves were rich and pristine. The aqueducts that ran high over the walls were carved of some beautiful marble and limestone, while the houses were crafted of ornate silverwood and tile.
The scout had given easy directions, ¡°West till¡¯ the inns are built of brown brick, then south till¡¯ the water stops flowing.¡±
It must have been obvious from his bird¡¯s eye view that the city was colour-coded, but she wouldn¡¯t have noticed had he not mentioned. They entered beneath the shadow of the eastern mountain. Ash had expected to meet some resistance, but instead, all she found was empty streets and abandoned chores.
Cobbled paths ran on for miles, but not a foot fell upon them. Children''s toys had been dashed to the winds in some great hurry. Play areas lay abandoned, while valuable jewels sat unaccompanied within the hollow markets.
Of all things, she didn¡¯t notice any food. Not a bite. Crumbs lay on tables outside bakeries, but not a single load of bread had remained.
¡°They¡¯re ready for a long siege,¡± Ash whispered. Despite her low volume, the words echoed through the dead streets.
¡°Indeed, but we have less than a week before the Blood Queen can rally an army against us,¡± Colu whispered.
They turned left as they came upon a red brick schoolhouse, abandoned in haste like all other buildings. Then they headed right again as a potter''s guild blocked the straight path. Finally, a brown tailor shop with an ornate gown in its window. A burgundy velvet base with black lace trimmings that must have trailed along the floor behind the wearer.
¡°Brown,¡± Nuk noted. ¡°South now.¡±
And south they trekked. A feeling finally took Ash, dread. Maybe not at the prospect of failure, but at the idea that she could actually succeed. ¡°What then?¡± she stressed. ¡°What happens to everyone inside? It was all well and good to burn the fields and food, but... the families, teachers, women and children...¡±
It wouldn¡¯t be enough to breach the defences. She had to do something to end the siege without blood, surely?
¡°The lordling,¡± she realised. If she could get to him, make him surrender, she could save everyone. She would have him stand his men down, allow his people to flee the city, then send him packing. ¡°No. He¡¯s the enemy. I must take him prisoner, even if he is just a child.¡±
¡°Sir Colu,¡± she whispered as they came upon the end of the water systems.
¡°Child?¡±
¡°When we get inside... we need to get to the keep.¡±
¡°No,¡± he flatly said before walking on.
¡°No?¡± Ash repeated.
¡°That''s not our orders. We are to sabotage the defences and allow for an easier assault.¡±
¡°But when they assault the city, thousands could die!¡± Ash said, much too loudly.
¡°That would be the nature of a siege, yes,¡± he flatly replied with the tone of a teacher stating some fundamental lesson.
¡°But if we get to the keep, we can prevent that.¡±
¡°How?¡± he asked, though he didn¡¯t look back at her as they carried on towards the old wall.
¡°The lord Castellan, he¡¯s only a boy. If I can get to him, he will surrender the city. Nobody needs to be hurt.¡±
¡°Excellent,¡± Tuyen, the mage, clapped. ¡°Let''s do that then. So, how shall we breach the keep and get to this boy-lord? Oh, and when we get to him, shall we walk out of the front door? Surely, they won¡¯t try to stop us if we have the lord. After all, this is a game of tag; Once we tap his shoulder, his entire garrison is sure to roll over.¡±
¡°Tuyen,¡± Colu sharply whispered. The flamboyant man quickly bowed away without a further word.
¡°It is noble to seek a means to victory without violence, but this is naive, child. If you wish to save lives, save your own side, your own armies. If the King assaults the walls without help, a thousand of our brethren could die. If we complete our mission, it may be less than a hundred.¡± Colu finally turned to her. Nearly all of his deep black eyes held a spark of orange that she had taken to mark his focus. Only two remained off her, seemingly scanning the surroundings.
¡°But if get to the lord, nobody dies, except maybe us,¡± Ash insisted.
¡°And if we fail, the assault fails and many, many more die. Donaleaf is a good man, he will not target the innocents, you have my word of honour. This is the best outcome, child. Remember, this siege was your idea, your plan, and a rather brilliant one at that.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t... It was just a plan. I didn¡¯t- all these people. All these children,¡± Ash stammered, trying in vain not to cry.
¡°You are the Champion of War,¡± Colu softly said, reaching a hard hand out to her shoulder. ¡°Mayhaps your Goden was wise to choose such a soft heart for the role. It will serve you well tomorrow, but today, you need to learn to harden yourself. You need to accept that either we win, or we lose by your order. Now, you are Champion, I abide your order above all else ¨C excepting the king himself ¨C so... if you order me to seek out this lordling, I will do so. The choice is yours... Champion.¡±
The twin moons rose over her decision. Their soft pale glow rushed through her hair and stroked a strange shadow across her face. Their kind light cast her as a ghost, an unhappy spectre walking the world half-dead. The amethyst of her eyes might have held a glow of their own through the sheen of unshed tears, but glowing or not, they were aflame.
¡°Okay,¡± she sniffed. ¡°By my order... We complete our mission.¡±
¡°And now... you are a leader. Now, you understand,¡± Colu whispered with something between pride and shame. There was a word for it in Ash¡¯s mind, a feeling in his many eyes that she knew all too well; burden.
They hardly needed a magician to crumble the wall. A stiff breeze would have felled this grand foe. Within, an ancient and forgotten aqueduct ran underground into some deep cavern. She could hear the torrenting waters within, an underground river, either natural or not. It must have been the source of the local fertility.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
A part of Ash whispered a cruel idea. She ought to have the magician poison the river. If the assault failed, the crops would still die, and the mission would still succeed. That whisper came not from her mind or heart, but her fist. The rest of her knew that this water didn¡¯t just feed the crops, but the citizens. If she poisoned it, she¡¯d poison the whole city. It was not an idea she could speak aloud nor was it an avenue to victory she could sully her boots upon.
The tunnel dug out for the aqueduct was lined with bricks and used to be a tall spiralling corkscrew but had so badly crumbled by now that it was nought more than a jagged ladder.
They slid down into the darkness, no light to guide them but the ever-dimming sun through the distant entrance. Once they landed in the main chamber of the cavern, it became obvious just how large it was. Though they couldn¡¯t see the distant walls, the sounds of their quiet footfalls echoing from the distant cave roof told them with certainty that they had no risk of hitting their heads.
¡°Tuyen,¡± Nuk urged.
¡°On it,¡± the magician replied. In a breath, a spiral of flaming wisps erupted all around them, one for each soldier, and one for Ash.
They fluttered and floated a metre above their chosen masters and lit the way forth with a brilliant blue spark.
¡°Move in line,¡± Colu ordered. The soldiers quickly arranged themselves. Ahn gripped Ash by the shoulder and forcefully dragged her into the middle of the line, just behind Nuk and before Tuyen.
They moved slowly and quietly, their every noise covered by the torrents of water at their side. It must have been an hour before they came upon an ancient iron gate. Rust coated its every corner and wall-mounted sconces beside it looked to have been disused for a century at least.
¡°Might or magic?¡± Nuk asked.
¡°Ahn, check the gate,¡± Colu whispered.
¡°On it,¡± she whispered in reply, moving from the rear of the formation and kneeling before the gate¡¯s lock. ¡°Too rusted to pick,¡± she declared in a hush.
¡°Shall I have at it?¡± Tuyen smirked.
¡°No, I can do this quietly.¡±
She pulled a small iron bar from her pack and slotted it in the ring of the old lock before exerting a grunted effort into snapping the old thing. It crumbled away in moments, the remains clattering across the stone floor. She tore at the remaining parts and dismantled the lock whole, then she forced the ancient gate open, which seemed to take an even greater effort than the lock. The rust was so thick, it seemed to have welded the door to the frame, but she loudly burst through after a moment.
¡°Quietly, right,¡± Tuyen scoffed.
¡°Book of the third: he who scoffs at a completed work is doomed to chase a perfect grave,¡± Nuk whispered.
¡°Speak your sermons some other time, holy boy, I¡¯m here to blow stuff up, not convert to the Conclave,¡± Tuyen grunted.
¡°Enough,¡± Colu ordered. ¡°Ahn, front.¡±
¡°Yup,¡± she whispered, dutifully drawing her body-tall shield and marching at the front of the band. She walked with the base of the shield resting atop her right foot, as to avoid it clattering against the stone ground and causing a great tremor.
They marched on a while longer, until the stone became flat and walkable, then became brick and mortar. Eventually, they found light above them. Faint and delicate, but certainly natural. By the breeze whistling through the tunnel, they realised it was a well within the bounds of the city. A faint rumbling of feet and carriages echoed through the shoulder-width hole.
¡°Door,¡± Ahn near silently reported. It was to their right, nestled within an oak frame, carved into the stone walls. They approached it silently and Ahn pressed her ear to it.
She signalled with her left hand, two fingers and then a fist. At it, Nuk drew his longsword and took Tuyen¡¯s position in the column. Ash took from context to draw her own spear, though she quickly realised that it would be too long for such a tight area, so she drew her dirk instead.
¡°Ahn, quietly,¡± Colu whispered.
She knelt before the door and pressed two thin shards of runed metal into its lock. After a tense moment, the lock seemed to give way and the door gently edged open. She took cover to the left of the door, while the rest ordered up to the right.
¡°The door,¡± a voice croaked from within.
¡°You didn¡¯t lock it?¡± Another accused.
¡°I didn¡¯t unlock it. It must have been open since the last guys.¡±
¡°Damn, middle of a siege, and we¡¯re leaving doors wide open. You got the keys?¡±
¡°Yeah, hang on,¡± the guard grunted as a chair creaked out. Ahn coiled to pounce as his lazy footsteps sauntered closer.
¡°What were you saying about the Champ-¡±
Ahn buried a short axe in the guard¡¯s throat and dragged him out of the doorway in a single swift motion. Colu entered the door, and a pair of small throwing knives found the other guard¡¯s throat within a moment.
¡°Clear,¡± he whispered after a moment. Ash stepped in next, Ahn at her back. The room looked to be a storage area. Barrels of grain lined a vast warehouse, though they seemed to only be within a small guard post at that point. Two doors sealed them from the rest of the facility, but she couldn¡¯t see any patrolling guards through the little peepholes.
¡°The guards have probably been assigned to the defences,¡± Ash whispered.
¡°It is likely,¡± Nuk agreed. ¡°It should make our lives somewhat easier.¡±
¡°What¡¯s the plan from here?¡± Tuyen asked.
¡°From here, we rise. We find a gatehouse and force it open, then Tuyen, you wreak havoc,¡± Colu answered.
¡°Marvellous,¡± the mage smirked grimly.
¡°Should we split up?¡± Nuk asked. ¡°One team finds the gatehouse, the other sabotages their defences.¡±
¡°Split up?¡± Ahn scoffed. ¡°Boy, ya got a death wish?¡±
¡°Two or three of us can more easily sneak around than all five,¡± he insisted. ¡°If we get caught, it doesn''t matter if we are together or not, we are done for.¡±
¡°Champion?¡± Colu deferred.
¡°I don¡¯t know. It''s your squad, what do you think?¡± She awkwardly protested, acutely aware of Ahn¡¯s disgusted glare.
¡°I think Sir Lucianuk¡¯s assessment is wise, but I also think sticking together would decrease the risk of casualties. You wished to be taught how to lead, so lead.¡±
Ash tried to compare her mission with some type of hunt, but she couldn¡¯t. There was no hunt where this could apply. You didn¡¯t need to sneak into a bear¡¯s cave and sabotage its defences, nor was it wise to split your hunting party if you battled a greater foe ¨C like some dragon or drake ¨C but that was a straight fight, not like this. A smaller group would be easier to hide with but would make assaulting the gatehouses nearly impossible.
She couldn¡¯t help but sigh as her final decision came, not from logic but from sheer gut feeling.
¡°We should split up,¡± she finally said. ¡°It will make an attack on the gatehouse harder, but it doubles our chances of actually making it to a gatehouse. If one group gets caught, the others still have some slim chance, but if we all get caught at once, all hope is lost.¡±
¡°Very well. Ahn, Lucianuk, you two are with the Champion. Tuyen, with me.¡± Colu nodded to Ash as Tuyen floated to his side.
¡°Sir, I protest,¡± Ahn said, conscious of her volume.
¡°Noted and discarded. You have your orders, Ahn.¡±
¡°Right,¡± she grunted.
¡°We won¡¯t let you down, sir,¡± Nuk saluted, and Ahn joined him in the motion.
¡°I know,¡± Colu smiled. ¡°Good luck, Champion.¡±
¡°To you too, sir,¡± Ash bowed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mercy & Victory (Part One).
It must be a late day in a hot summer by the time blood runs cold. Here, at the infancy of winter, it warmed her like a blanket. The frosty steel of her old dirk adopted some of the warmth of the man in which it was buried. She could say nothing of him as he died. He wasn¡¯t an odd-looking man, nor a particularly battled soldier. He had a single scar, just below his twitching eye, which told of some experience in a fight, not that it could have helped him here. Was he a father? A brother? Almost certainly, he was a son. Now though, because of her, he was a warm blanket of blood.
Ashtik tucked the corpse away in some dusty crevasse. Her two comrades entered the building at her back.
¡°Good kill,¡± Ahn whispered. It was. Had it been a deer, she¡¯d have been proud of the swiftness and delicacy of the dispatch. But it was no dear, and she was not proud. Strangely enough, nor was she ashamed. An absence filled her, an apathy towards her own murder. She, instead, filled the hole where remorse ought to have been with a singular focus. The mission, the task, the thousand corpses that this day would bring.
¡°Let''s move,¡± she whispered.
Atop a tower of fir and stone, Ash looked out to her foe¡¯s little empire. She could see from this elevated position, her own army. Each man fluttered in the distance by their little torchlight. There were more of them now. The king¡¯s entire personal guard must have arrived. Not enough for a siege of any kind, but plenty enough to burn the city.
¡°There,¡± Nuk whispered. He pointed out towards a distant wooden shack atop the ancient stone walls. A massive detachment of soldiers worked feverishly to reinforce it. A path of destruction lay behind them where they had cannibalised their own houses and buildings for lumber and stone. They erected massive pillars to hold shut the section of wall beneath the shack. She realised that it was the gatehouse they sought.
¡°How are we supposed to get in there?¡± Ash stressed.
¡°With the grace of the gods,¡± Nuk answered.
¡°The gods will not fight for us, that¡¯s why we brought the steel.¡± Ash turned to her silent third and asked her opinion with a pleading gaze.
¡°Who want ta live forever anyway?¡± Ahn quietly scoffed. ¡°Ya gods might no take them down, but I be knowin¡¯ what will.¡± She pulled free a little black leather pouch from behind her shield.
¡°What is that?¡± Ash asked.
¡°Phoenix ash,¡± Nuk whispered, slightly awed.
¡°Oh...¡± A flood of memories caught Ash. Burning men, boiling men, dying men. The screams, choked out by fire in their lungs. The raw heat pulsing from the few poor bastards who made it a few meters from her. It was a crime she had committed before, a horror enacted in the name of desperation, but it was not something she had ever wished to repeat.
¡°We set the gatehouse alight, give Tuyen a chance to blow the whole wall down,¡± Nuk planned.
¡°Give it to me,¡± Ash ordered, her gaze unfixed and unsettled.
¡°Ya sure, birdie? This no cute way ta die,¡± Ahn whispered.
Ash held her natural hand out expectantly, ¡°I know.¡±
¡°Do ya?¡±
There was no spoken answer needed. Ahn could see the old green pyre in Ash¡¯s amethyst eyes. She could hear the screaming of the lost souls and the boys begging for death in her every bated breath.
¡°Right,¡± Ahn nodded with something close to approval. She placed the sack into Ash¡¯s hand without an ounce of delicacy and Ash quietly stowed it on her belt.
¡°We still need to get close enough to throw it,¡± Nuk interrupted.
¡°I can handle that,¡± Ash declared. ¡°The rooftops. They¡¯re close enough together to climb between. It should be even easier than jumping between trees.¡±
¡°Ya might be dainty enough for that, but I no. I be fallin¡¯ straight through the roof fore¡¯ ya can tell me ta hush up,¡± Ahn scoffed. She shot a glance to Nuk, who was clearly no better equipped than her for such a task.
¡°You don¡¯t need to. I¡¯ll handle it.¡±
¡°What about us?¡± Nuk insisted. ¡°Do you expect us to simply stay here?¡±
¡°No... I expect you to push towards the keep.¡±
¡°What?¡± the two of them croaked in unison.
¡°I thought you changed your mind about that,¡± Nuk said, lowering his tone again.
¡°You don¡¯t need to go in, just find a soft spot while I deal with the gatehouse. We can meet up once the fire starts. Hopefully, it causes enough chaos for us to slip through without notice.¡±
¡°I not know if ya crazy or stupid, but ya certainly ain¡¯t right in ya head,¡± Ahn steamed.
¡°We have a job, Champion. You agreed to this,¡± Nuk insisted.
Ash nodded, ¡°Yes, I did, and I intend to complete the mission. Once I do, I will rejoin you and complete the next mission.¡± She dragged her eyes between the disgusted gaze of the shield maiden and the pious warrior with his gentle leer. ¡°You have your orders,¡± she finally said with as much confidence as she could fake.
¡°Yes, Champion,¡± Nuk reluctantly saluted.
¡°No,¡± Ahn spat.
¡°Ahn-¡± Nuk tried to urge.
¡°-No. I won''t will throw ma life away for this here child.¡±
¡°Then don¡¯t,¡± Nuk sighed. ¡°I am following my orders. You can help me or abandon me ¨C regardless of the Champion. It¡¯s up to you what you want to do.¡±
She grunted and thrashed a hand against the steel of her shield. ¡°Ya a damn fool, Nuk. Fine. Ya wanna die, then I die with ya.¡± She shot one final, hate-filled, glance towards Ash before descending the tower.
¡°Good luck, Champion,¡± Nuk said as he took his first step down. He didn¡¯t look her in the eyes as he said it, instead affixing his gaze to the distant gatehouse. ¡°Gods be with you.¡±
It was higher up than she had realised, but not nearly as high as some of the silverwoods she had climbed when hunting dart-tailed hawks with her father. She stepped over the wooden guardrail and took a deep breath of the open night air.
There was something on it, a scent of something... powerful. The power in her hand crackled a little. Just enough that it reminded her that the hand was not her own any longer. She traced a steel finger over the mouldy old wood and snorted as she noticed the deep searing burns she left in her finger¡¯s wake.
She let the night air go as she slipped from the tower. Slowly, with the grace of a falling star, she embraced gravity. The wind didn¡¯t rush by her, it didn¡¯t whip her hair all around nor did it tear the air from her lungs. It stroked her cheeks with a cool caress, it kept her aloft, where the world wanted to drag her down. It sought to find her a home on the far side of the greater moon. But a gentle caress cannot beat gravity.
She ripped out her hand and caught a rung of the tower, swinging herself outwards and landing with a graceful roll atop an adjacent rooftop. The green tiles barely seemed to notice that she had disturbed their sleep. The little birds that nested in the corner welcomed her as a strange guest, though she didn¡¯t accept their offer of staying for a late-night snack.
She pounced on. Torches burnt beneath the next house, but the bearers were much too busy scanning the streets to pay what must have been an alley cat atop the roof any mind. She bound onwards and onwards, never making any more noise than the very beat of her heart, until she came upon a street. The gap was too great to cross, so she went around, hoping to find some kind of crossover.
It came eventually in the form of a set of scaffoldings. She spent a step in the shadowed dirt before rising again on the other side. Now, the goal was but a breath away. A breath taken as she bound over the last of the building, and a breath shed as the cannibalised building failed to hold her weight.
Less now the grace of a falling star, and more so the grace of a drunken buffoon. She clattered and banged through the thin layer that had remained as a roof in the hollow husk of the building. She fell quickly, slamming against a wooden beam and splintering it in an instant. Its remaining shards sprinkled around her as she thudded upon the hay flooring.
Ash dragged a couple of ragged breaths down. It was a battle to do so, the fall had knocked the wind from her and left her with the feeling that she had broken a rib, at least. She looked up in a daze and noticed first, the wooden shard that had torn through her right palm. The steel had only covered the back of her hand, the leather at her palm had clearly been insufficient in protecting her.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
With a terrible - gargling - effort, Ash rose to her knees. She spent a moment simply trying to steady her breath while she held her injured hand tightly.
¡°What the fuck was that?¡± someone called from outside the house.
¡°A thief?¡± guessed a woman.
¡°Shit, guards over here!¡±
It wouldn¡¯t be fair to call her conscious at this point. She wasn¡¯t. She was awake, but not aware. A mix of shock and pain stripped her of all functions beyond survival, and those words had triggered that function in an instant. She rolled away as the door slammed open. The three men who entered must have seen nothing but a burst of dust.
She hid beneath a box in a dank corner of the house while one guard secured the doorway and the other two searched for her.
¡°Look,¡± the eldest-looking guard whispered. He pointed up, towards the hole in the ceiling and the path of destruction that lay beneath.
¡°Are there any other exits?¡± a bearded guard asked.
¡°No, I used to come here all the time,¡± the guard in the doorway answered. ¡°Whoever this was is still in here... somewhere.¡±
The eldest man took some slow steps towards her. They were targeted, direct. He didn¡¯t wander or meander, instead moved directly towards where she hid. Ash held her breath as he inched closer and closer.
¡°Blood,¡± he called out. A streak must have been left atop the box as Ash pushed it atop of herself.
¡°Some down here too! Must have hurt themselves during the fall,¡± the bearded guard called from her landing zone.
He edged closer, his blade pointed true.
¡°It looks like they came this way,¡± the eldest called. ¡°There¡¯s too much blood here.¡±
He was an inch from her at this point, inspecting the boxes above her own. His foot kicked dust into her face as she struggled to keep absolutely silent. Then, in a fatefully slow movement, his fingers wrapped around the rim of her hiding place. She didn¡¯t wait for him to lift the lid and expose her, instead, she burst out with her dirk in hand.
¡°Aah!¡± the guard cried as she piled atop of him. She tried to slam her dirk into him, but the blade caught in his chainmail and did all too little damage. He managed to pull her arm and dragged her off him. She clattered against some weak struts, but her steel took the brunt of the hit.
¡°Easy, lass!¡± the bearded guard called out as he ran to his friend¡¯s side. ¡°You¡¯re outnumbered. Don¡¯t do anything daft.¡±
She struggled to her feet, clenching her ribs through the steel plate. She drew her spear silently into her left hand as the shard of oak remained in her right.
¡°Nobody wants to hurt you,¡± the eldest guard said. ¡°Just put down the spear and talk to us... What¡¯s your name?¡±
Ash didn¡¯t reply. She looked at the men and considered her options. She didn¡¯t know if she could beat three men at her best, let alone with one hand.
¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Ash thought. ¡°Whether or not I can beat them... I must beat them.¡±
She brought her right hand to her mouth and bit down hard on the wood, dragging it roughly through her palm. She barely winced as it tore through the flesh and muscle. Her eyes never wavered from the guards and her spear never moved from her side.
¡°Just... calm down, okay? You¡¯re hurt, not thinking straight. Take a breath and it¡¯s all going to be okay,¡± the eldest guard said. He lowered himself slightly and pointed the tip of his halberd far away from Ash. It was supposed to be a signal of kindness, a way to make her feel less cornered. All it did was make him an easier first target.
She slid her thumb over the small rune at the shaft of Ser Stabby. The tip burst forth and buried itself in his thigh. She whipped it back using its chain and drenched it in her own blood as she handled it with both hands.
The guard screamed, loudly. Much too loudly. Soon enough the building would be crawling with his ilk. She had to fight quickly.
Ash dove forth while the elder was still reeling from his injury. Her spear ran for his throat, but his partner¡¯s halberd intercepted the strike. The two polearms danced along each other''s lengths, but Ash used her steel hand to grasp the blade of his while her own slashed across his face.
Even through the unnatural steel, catching the slash sent an agonising shock through her arm, but it soon settled, and she was ready to strike again.
The bearded guard had lost a chunk of his nose in her last strike, but he was far from finished, unlike his elderly compatriot. The old man could barely stand as he discarded his polearm and drew a secondary short sword.
To be fair to the old man, his strike was impressively fast, but Ash had a few new tricks that he couldn¡¯t have prepared for.
A disk of oily black steel sprouted from her gauntlet; a small, jagged and dangerous shield. The blade clinked pointlessly off it, and Ash rounded against him with her spear held short. This time, his chainmail didn¡¯t save him. She simply placed too much force against him. The spear tip tore into him, while the two blade catchers pinned into him, though they didn¡¯t break through the mail.
She dragged the spear back without ceremony and slammed the rear of its shaft into the bearded guard¡¯s belly. A spurt of blood followed it out of the old man as he fell, dying, on the floor.
Her strike forced the bearded guard to keel forward, where she landed her right elbow beneath his jaw and knocked him to the ground.
It would have slowed her down to kill him, so instead she barrelled towards the stalwart guard blocking the doorway. She held her spear high above her head, so he didn¡¯t notice when she threw her dirk with her lowered left hand into his wrist. She wrapped around, pulling his halberd from his grip before sinking the clawed knuckles of her gauntlet into his throat.
All three lay, dead or dying, and she didn¡¯t feel so far from them. Every breath burnt like the fires she planned to light. Her head went so light she mustn''t have taken a single breath during the entire fight, living on adrenaline in place of oxygen.
She propped herself up on her spear but nearly slipped down. She had bled so much that the silver steel had grown crimson. The shaft was so slicked with her blood that she struggled to keep it gripped as she mounted it back in her sheath.
It wasn¡¯t far now. A stone''s throw, if her right arm was in any condition to throw. She had to get a little closer. Close enough that there would be no way for her to hide. All the buildings around it had already been demolished, there would be no cover at all. She could charge in, hope to catch them by surprise and throw it before they could think to stop her... or.
Bleeding, limping and barely breathing, Ash sauntered along the last stretch of street. She walked with purpose and dignity. Each time her boot fell, the dirt was grateful to be a part of her story. She stepped, one foot at a time, past guards and warriors and nobodies. None dared to even look at her. Those few that did, averted their gaze quickly and crumbled beneath her imperious glare. Though sullied with blood and death, she marched like a queen, and all who stood before her bowed.
The gatehouse was a breath away and only one, young, guard stood before her. He her entry with an inexpertly grasped blade.
¡°Halt,¡± he squeaked.
¡°Move aside,¡± she whispered.
¡°State your business,¡± he barked, though his quivering voice sounded closer to a kitten¡¯s meow than a wolf¡¯s growl.
¡°No,¡± she answered. ¡°Move or die.¡±
¡°Are you... a knight?¡±
¡°No, I¡¯m a Champion.
¡°W- Why are you bleeding?¡±
¡°Because I¡¯ve just killed three soldiers. Shall we make it four?¡±
¡°You- You killed the Forgelanders... Right?¡± The boy said with a begging tone.
¡°What do you think?¡± Ash scoffed.
¡°Right...¡± the boy sniffed. ¡°Apologies, Champion, of course.¡±
He finally stepped aside, and Ash slowly limped up the stairs without a trace of visible worry. Three archers lounged within, but all stood to attention as she limped in.
¡°Erm, my lady!¡± the leader stammered. ¡°Can we help you?¡±
¡°I¡¯m here to start a fire,¡± Ash said tiredly. The blood loss had begun to drain her energy rapidly.
¡°A- Fire? For our arrows?¡± the leader guessed.
¡°Your arrows will probably burn too, aye. Which of these controls opens the gate?¡±
¡°I- What? Who are you?¡± the leader asked.
¡°I¡¯m the Champion of Black,¡± Ash answered simply. ¡°Now which of these do I open?¡±
¡°I- You cannot be serious? How did you get in here?¡±
¡°I killed all the other guards. It''s just you three left,¡± she lied. ¡°Now, shall we open the gate, or do I have to finish the job?¡±
¡°I... You lie!¡± the leader shouted.
¡°Mhmm,¡± Ash grunted. In a single, swift action, she brought her dirk to his throat. His two subordinates proved less than courageous after the sight. One knelt while the other fell. Ash nodded to the great wheel that held the gate up and they both quickly unshackled the gate, allowing it to fall open.
¡°Thank you,¡± Ash sighed as a horde of soldiers marched up to the gatehouse. She pulled free the powder pouch and found a little fuse within. ¡°Who wants to live forever?¡±
The men screamed as she lit the pouch and cast it to the doors. It spread quickly, consuming the wooden ramparts and corridors in which the soldiers charged. Ash dove out of the window, crashing into the open dust, surrounded by a small army.
The breeze sliced her back and she knew what it meant. The gates were open, and the battle was beginning.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mercy & Victory (Part Two).
First came the magnesium stars. Chunks of burning metal launched by advanced trebuchets. They struck with astonishing accuracy, slamming into watch towers and garrison bases.
Then came the men. More than she could count, more than the horizon could contain. A thunderclap for each iron footfall.
She didn¡¯t watch them approach. Her eyes rose far above, to the little white-leafed tree atop the hill that bristled gently beneath the stars. Above the commotion, unaffected by the flame, it stood proudly.
¡°Kill her!¡± A warrior called.
Ten men charged and ten men died. She didn¡¯t even lift a finger. Flame engulfed them all. An inferno half the size of that which Evara had burst into all those weeks ago. She walked towards it, to its warmth and its light, but it avoided her. It circled and swirled around her, sweeping up warriors by the dozen.
¡°Champion!¡± a familiar voice called from atop a distant building. She peered out through the haze within her mind and saw a dozen eyes peering back at her. Tuyen stood beside old Colu, swirling his hands in delicate flowing motions. Halfway between a falling snowflake and a musical conductor. He shifted left and right, and so did his flame. Eventually, he released control of the inferno and allowed it to spread of its own accord.
It clung to buildings and men alike. I flooded the streets and burst out into the sky.
Ash barely noticed. A passing glance reminded her of what she had ordered of the others. She noticed the distant pale keep and imagined the boy lord within.
Nobody could have heard her slow and unsteady footsteps as she strolled along the battlefield towards the keep. Men flooded in behind and around her, blades thirsting for blood. They clashed like the tide against a stone island. Arrows rained from both sides, but none came near her. No warrior knew to whom she belonged and just allowed her to pass as they battled some more obvious threat.
¡°Champion!¡± Colu called out again. He descended to her side, his blade clashing with some passing enemy. ¡°Champion! Where are the others?¡±
Ash answered with a point. The keep, beige stone and three tall towers. Walls within walls within walls. She did not offer to join them, but they saw in her march that she was headed to the one place they needed to follow. They heard in her silence, all orders that mattered. They felt in the heat of battle flame that she needed to find this lordling.
And so, they marched. Occasionally, they came upon some stray resistance, but between the magician¡¯s explosions, the commander¡¯s sword arm and Ser Stabby¡¯s explosive party trick, nobody seemed to last all that long.
There could be no telling how long they walked for. Long enough, at least, for a flame to engulf the outer city. The men were efficient. They ignored the battles and focused solely on the grain depots and the food stocks. Most of the civilians were nestled within the keep, but so was most of the stored grain. The keep had to fall, like all the rest.
Chaos had the outer areas. A large force of archers and quarrellers held the walls, while the Forgelanders had set up an iron tunnel around the gate. No doubt, a battering ram was making a slow journey over.
¡°Sir Colu!¡± Another familiar voice called. Nuk came breathlessly towards them, a snapped arrow shaft in his arm. ¡°Champion!¡±
¡°Lucianuk, where is Ahn?¡± Colu quickly demanded.
¡°She¡¯s okay. She¡¯s holding a position to the East.¡±
¡°Did you find a weak point?¡± Ash asked, her voice weak and desperate but far from timid.
¡°I- No, Champion. I¡¯m sorry, we failed you.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± Ash sighed. ¡°Then we will go in the front door.¡±
¡°Champion?¡± Colu choked.
¡°People keep saying I am the Champion of War,¡± Ash thought as she slowly approached the iron barrier, arrows and bolts skirting all around her. One even sliced her cheek, but it didn¡¯t break her focus. ¡°A soft-hearted Champion of War. A meek Champion of War. They¡¯re wrong, aren¡¯t they, Black?¡±
She drew ever closer, the arrows blocked out by the erected tunnel.
¡°I¡¯m not just the Champion of War; I''m something much harder. I¡¯m the Champion of Mercy. A pointless title during peacetime. After all, it''s only during war that mercy can thrive.¡±
She placed her steel hand against the barrier with her amethyst eyes sealed shut.
¡°I am destined to fight and to kill. But I am more than that. I am more than my destiny. I am she of mercy and she of merciful dreams. I may not be able to do the kindest thing at all times, but I will always try.¡±
A handprint burnt into the iron barrier. The static that had been building since the beginning of the day grew all the louder. It lashed out in its tentacled light as she drew back her burning hand and forced it into a shaking fist.
¡°Others accept pointless cruelty because they can do nothing about it. They justify malice by saying it is the way of war. I will not be others.¡±
She gritted her teeth hard enough to draw blood from her gums. It burst in her eyes and her nose, gushing out as sanguine spit and tears.
¡°And if that is not the fate the gods offer me...¡± She drew one final, screaming breath. ¡°Then fuck the gods!¡±
Steel tore through iron. Ripples of power shattered far beyond the gate. A flourish of raw black and purple energy tore down the whole fucking wall. It burst with most of its power pointed directly forwards, carving a tunnel through buildings and men alike. The sheer explosion tore the up ground and made it - for a brief while ¨C into the stars and sky. The light of it darkened the moons and stars for a moment, and blinded any who looked too closely for a moment longer.
In this little corner of this little nation, the sun had risen in the middle of the night. For it, there was a break in the battle. Awe choked the violence from war and left zealots questioning their own beliefs. Some men fell to the floor in shock, some were pushed by the power of her, the rest... they fell to their knees in holy reverence. Enemies a second past; worshipers for the rest of their days.
Every ounce of power, every push of will, held her straight up. If she had to focus on anything but standing, she¡¯d have crumbled to the dirt with the rest of them. But, by some sheer miracle of raw human stubbornness, she alone stood in the dust and silence.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
In a tower of stone and silence, a lone little boy watched as a monster came to take him away. Most little boys would fear or hide... Not this one. This boy was right, he was holy, and the gods would protect him.
All his life, he had been told that; If he was good, and he was holy, the gods would protect him.
¡°Lord Mikor,¡± the villain bowed as she entered his chambers, his own guards escorting her.
¡°Sparrow-Knight,¡± he greeted in kind. Evil or not, his mother had taught him better than to ignore the greetings of a lady.
¡°This is over, my lord.¡± She spoke in a different tone to the one she had worn in their last parley. There was a sincerity that he couldn¡¯t dismiss as the lies of a snake.
¡°Not quite.¡± He turned to face her, and the steel of his father¡¯s breastplate glimmered in the candlelight. It did not fit him at all, but it would have to do.
¡°Surrender your keep and let your people leave, my Lord. It is the right thing to do.¡±
¡°My family have ruled this city since it was a single hut over the river. A hundred generations. It is more than my home you ask me to abandon... It is all I have of my family.¡±
He drew the blade his grandfather had wielded, and his grandfather before him, and his grandfather before him. It was the blade of a man, not a boy. It simply weighed too much for his little form to heft.
¡°You have your memories,¡± Ash whispered. ¡°You have the feelings that remain.¡±
¡°THATS NOT ENOUGH!¡± the lordling shouted. ¡°I DESERVE MORE THAN MEMORIES OF THEM.¡±
¡°Yes, you do,¡± Ash said, kneeling not out of respect but seemingly out of exhaustion. ¡°And so do your people. How many will lose their parents, their children, for this?¡±
¡°That was your decision! My city has done no harm to anybody, yet you chose us for your virgin assault, Heretic.¡±
¡°I know,¡± she sighed, sinking further into the ground. ¡°It seemed... simple on a map. You weren¡¯t people, just... an objective; a clever plan. I¡¯m- I''m sorry. I know it doesn¡¯t count for much.¡±
¡°You speak as though this ends after I surrender today, but how many will starve tomorrow without my grain? How many cities will fall to this same fiery method? My mother always said that an apology means nothing if the flaw is a repeated one.¡±
¡°I- Don¡¯t know what happens tomorrow. But I do know that you can fight to make it a better day than today, only if you surrender. Please, Lord Mikor.¡±
¡°Do you know what the book of the first says about you, Champion of Black?¡± Mikor asked as his eyes fell to his borrowed blade.
¡°I- Don¡¯t, no.¡±
¡°It says, ¡®There shall be a Heretic in thine unspoken name of Black and thine shall swallow the stars. Blessed is he who holds his steel in the face of the unChosen.¡¯ If I waiver now, what would the gods make of me but a coward?¡±
¡°They would make of you, a living boy. In life, you¡¯ll have a thousand chances to be pious. In death, I¡¯ll grant you only a single opportunity to be a fool. Please, just put the blade down.¡±
¡°You look to be injured, Heretic. I think my chances are greater than you portray them.¡±
¡°I am injured,¡± she groaned, showing him a gush of blood from her hand. ¡°And I don¡¯t know what the gods seek of us, but I don¡¯t think it matters. Frankly, I would rather you kill me than I kill you. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll enjoy murdering a scared child.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t think the gods matter?¡± The boy scoffed.
¡°No, I know they don¡¯t,¡± she chuckled painfully.
¡°Yet you claim to be their very servant!¡±
¡°Aye, and what a poor slave I make. You¡¯d think after everything, my function and form would be thoroughly broken to purpose. But I walk around, and I can¡¯t tell if my master is guiding me by whip and cane, or if he¡¯s kinder and gentler than that. If he offers me the carrot, should I follow it far enough. I don¡¯t know what reward you¡¯re expecting for all this noble service, kiddo, but all I¡¯ve gotten from the gods is promises of future promises.¡±
He stormed up to her, his steel high against her throat. He couldn¡¯t keep it outright for long though, and it quickly fell to the floor with a quiet chink.
¡°I won¡¯t hear it,¡± he spat. ¡°I won¡¯t have you disgrace my gods.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she gently said, her voice gravelled with exhaustion. ¡°But the gods don¡¯t decide what happens here, you do.¡±
¡°And what would become of me? What is this preferable fate offered by the Black Heretic?¡±
¡°You would be a royal guest, kept in Raven keep. You may well live better than you do here.¡±
¡°A guest, you call it,¡± he sneered. ¡°Hostage, more like.¡±
¡°Yes, a hostage, but a royal one.¡±
¡°A gilded cage,¡± he spat.
¡°Is better than a buried coffin.¡±
¡°No, I won¡¯t have it. The gods will judge you, Heretic, as they will judge me. I will not have them scorn me for cowardice. Raise your blade or lose your life.¡±
¡°Please, my lord,¡± Ash begged, her hands over her face. ¡°Send your people away and slip off with them in disguise.¡±
¡°NO!¡± he shouted. ¡°Guards!¡±
None came to his call. Their shadows loomed beneath the doorway, unshifting but for the flicker of some adjacent candle.
¡°COWARDS!¡± He bellowed, clasping his steel again. He tore it as high as he could and slashed out at her head. She caught the blow with her gauntlet and threw the blade away.
¡°She of Steel, grant me strength to fight. She of Gold, grant me the courage to stand. He of Black, grant me mercy in my next life.¡± He scrambled back towards the blade and struck out at Ash again. She stepped aside, letting the strike hit the floor before punching the boy in the face, smashing his nose in hopes it would pacify him.
¡°Jonti, give me breath that I may cry my last. Veytor, give me wrath in the face of falsehood. Taeva, strike my blade true.¡±
He struck again, and again he missed, catching a punch to the belly. Ash could feel his rib break under the strike. He cried for pained breaths as he continued.
¡°Sjalgreef, show me the path past this day! Taitu, prepare me a meal in the halls of heaven! HEVESTIEL HARDEN MY HEART!¡±
He charged again, his vision blocked by tears and blood. Every breath he drew, every step he took, utter agony.
It was nearly a mercy when the dirk pierced his heart.
Quick, clean and seconds before he was gone. There might have been pain, but she cradled his head as he slipped away, and he seemed grateful for the warmth.
¡°Mother,¡± was his final, breathless word.
And so, the Champion of Black had won her first battle. She left the little corpse lying in the middle of the cold stone floor.
She could say nothing of the boy as he died. He wasn¡¯t a plumb thing like most lords. He lacked a few teeth like all lads his age. She noticed only as his corpse drained of colour, a little cut on his finger. He must have tried to feel the blade and caught himself, but nobody was there to kiss it better. Nobody was there to worry about him. He wasn¡¯t a brother; he wasn¡¯t a son. He might have been the last lord Mikor. But now, because of her, he was nothing but an end to a dynasty.