Story starts in part 1, posted previously (here)
Standing still, I am becoming slowly conscious of my injuries. None are life-threatening, but the scrapes and bruises, minor burns and gashes I sustained over the course of the evening’s slaughter probably make me a frightful sight. I try to muster the energy to care, but can’t. I feel wrung-out, drained, hollow, too much even to mourn. Though I slept last less than fourteen hours ago, I feel as though I haven’t in a week - this, at least, I can attribute to overuse of my talent rather than grief or spent anger.
Some analytical corner of my mind notes the figure on horseback, working its way up the hill below me. I estimate that the rider will reach me in a few minutes, but I don’t move. Undoubtedly the person is a survivor of my grief-spawned holocaust. Your death has been avenged many times over, and this lone rider need not die.
The thought occurs to me now. I’m still alive. What will I do now? Though less than a year ago I hadn’t even met you, the thought of going on with life as I did then is abhorrent. This past year has changed me. Before, I was a loner, a survivor, travelling this world of the wicked and the vain.
I wasn’t always a traveller, of course, though I don’t think I ever told you my story, at least, not all of it. Before the Wilder Clans were destroyed, I was a warrior in training, taken in by the romance of the blade, trying to become part of the most feared force in the known world. A trained warrior of even the least of the clans was a terrible power on the battlefield, and working in concert a hundred warriors could best an army orders of magnitude larger.
We Wilders were far from perfect - we were a warlike people at the best of times, constantly having small wars among ourselves - but we held ourselves above the depravity that surrounded us. We prided ourselves in our loyalty and honor, and we avoided war with mundane humanity, which we considered it not honorable to fight.
Then mundane humanity brought war to us. The petty kings and lords allied together to destroy one clan after another, starting with the weakest, overwhelming them with cowardly attacks or overwhelming force. Through it all, the Clans did not unite. The Wilder Clans had always feuded and opposed each other, and we were unable to set them aside in the end. We’d lived so long in this world of betrayal and dishonor that we’d lost our sense of loyalty and honor. For this reason, we were slaughtered wholesale.
I was there, holding the walls when my clan’s stronghold, one of the last, was besieged. We thousand warriors held out against a force of almost a million men for weeks, though their siege weapons rained down fire and stone and their soldiers swarmed over any weak point in the defense. We held the line, though we knew the end was inevitable, because we had heard what the armies of jealous kings had done to the clans that fell before us. We had heard the stories of the few survivors - the tales of the women and children being butchered after the men were defeated. I was young, then, and thought perhaps a costly siege could force the invaders to negotiate. The veterans, I think, let me believe this. It gave me hope, when in reality we had none.
The siege ended as was inevitable, of course. I was there at the end, standing in one of a dozen breaches in our wall, blade in one hand and flickering fire in the other. I remember seeing the boundless horde advancing, fear in the eyes of each soldier. After that, I lost control - I remember little, only flickering, fire-lit glimpses of several hours of fighting. Then, nothing.
My clan was wiped out, and if others survived I do not know it. I am not certain know how I myself survived. I regained consciousness a few days later, half-buried under rubble in the shattered remains of the only home I’d ever known. The attackers were gone, but so were my people. That day, after searching in vain for survivors beyond myself, I started my travels, looking for traces of my people in a world that was slowly forgetting them. I wandered for almost seven years among the mundane nations that had destroyed us, slowly losing hope that I might find other Wilders, slowly drifting into despair. Then I met you, that night, and my worldview changed.
As I reminisce, the rider draws close. Surely the person on that horse has seen me - I’ve made no attempt to hide. Why should I hide from what I did to this place? My crime here is impossible to hide,and my proximity will make obvious my involvement.
The rider is hooded, cloaked, and the horse stumbles almost with every step. I can make out the orange reflection of light off steel when the cowl shifts. A sword, most probably. My own was lost somewhere in the madness, but the one-bladed war axe I’d been carrying when I staggered up to this hilltop is not far from my feet. I don’t stoop to pick it up; it hardly seems worth the effort.
The rider slows, and stops in front of and below me. I keep my eyes on the fire behind him, because your memory to me is more important than even self-preservation.
* * * * *
I recall that first job we took as a team. You weren’t much with a blade, but after a few weeks’ practice you were a good shot with a bow. We needed money and a destination, and taking an escort job granted us both.
The job was little more than glorified bodyguard duty - a diplomat from one city wishing to be ferried safely to an erstwhile ally nearby. Both the aged diplomat and his slinking manservant were dour, taciturn men, which suited my preference in employers, but riding in silence seemed to grate on you. On the third day you asked permission to sing as we traveled, and to my surprise the pinched old man seemed ambivalent as to the prospect. I caught your eye, expression hopefully conveying the question, “Are you sure?” to which your responding expression was merely a carefree smirk and rolled eyes. Though I considered this an unnecessary risk, that look melted my opposition with its sheer warmth.
You didn’t sing at your best, of course, but you came closer than you usually allowed around people. What you sung was clever, joyful, but in essence simple, demonstrating no particular skill in mastery, but much skill in composition.
Our employer rolled his eyes at first, scowling, but eventually his opinion softened, as did his mood. That evening he said the first full sentence I heard from him in a question to you.
“Where did you hear that song you sung today, woman?” His words were harsh-sounding, but compared to what we’d previously heard from him it was practically a friendly tone. That’s what made me listen in.
“You know, I don’t quite remember.” You replied. I sighed mentally in relief that you had enough sense not to tell him you’d made it up, which I was reasonably sure you did. “Why, does it sound familiar?”
“Bah, no. But now I’ve got it bouncing around in my head, and I was wondering who I should have beheaded for the annoyance.”
You paled. This man was effectively powerless on the road with us, but presumably at journey’s end he was more than capable of this order. “I-I... I apologize, sir. Won’t happen again.”
“Relax, kid.” He shook his head. “I was making a joke. Actually, I rather liked it. Lightened the mood.”
I was more surprised by this turn of events than you, until I remembered something I’d suspected for weeks: that your voice was a talent more powerful than my fire and mastery of the blade could ever be.
You still had the good sense to keep quiet about the song’s authorship - especially if he did like it, he might try to appropriate such talent for his own entertainment, even if it meant kidnapping. “Oh. I’d pass along your compliments, if I could remember where I heard it. When one’s on the road, one hears so many songs, and I just remember them.”
The man shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You know other songs?”
You were in dangerous waters, and you knew it. “Know, yes, but I lack the talent to sing all but the few simplest properly myself.” A lie, but a good one for the situation. You were doing well. I realized I’d been preparing mentally for trouble, and relaxed. This part of life, I forced myself to remember, you were an old hand at. You did not need coaching or protecting when it came to concealing your talent.
“Bah. ” The old man seemed to lose interest. “Too bad. Good entertainment is so hard to come by.”
As is every other remarkable talent in this world, I reflected. Not that talent is exceptionally rare, but because those who publicly use theirs come to sorry ends rapidly. Even the favorite of a great king can fall into disfavor with one mistake, and one slip-up is usually fatal.
“Yes, it is.” You replied noncommittally. You glanced in my direction, likely seeing if I had overheard. I nodded slightly, relaying that I had, and turned back to unpacking my bedroll. As I did, I caught the old man’s servant also watching the scene, wisp of a smile on his drawn face. That bothered me. It wasn’t a good expression, and the man had already struck me as untrustworthy. I resolved to tell you to keep your distance from both of them - even if the diplomat meant no harm, he was still irritable, and his servant, I was sure, was up to something. At the time, I wondered if I was just being paranoid, if I was overreacting. I didn’t have to wait long before I was vindicated.
The next day was overcast, gloomy, progressing to a pestering drizzle, and I think the weather weighed on you. It always seemed to. Again, our road was quiet. I don’t know if any of the four of us spoke more than six words until around mid-day, when you rode close to me, expression of concern under the damp, drooping hood of your cloak.
“He’s been staring at me since we started today.” You whispered. I was pretty sure noone but I could hear it - I barely could. “I... I don’t know why.”
I hadn’t noticed either of our charges staring at you. “Which one?” I immediately guessed the answer, but I had to ask anyway. My right hand went to the hilt of my blade.
“The servant.” This confirmed my earlier suspicion. The man was up to something.
“Ride back a few lengths for a while. I’ll go forward.” I undid the clasp securing my blade, but didn’t draw it.
“But the pay...” You made a good point. We were low on funds, and would have trouble staying in the next town without pay from this job. Some things, though, are worth more than money. I have always considered prudence one of them.
“Let’s hope that it doesn’t come to that.” With that, I spurred my horse forward, and rode up to come abreast with the old noble, a line already composed. “This glum ride demands distraction. Apparently Linya’s in no mood to sing, and normally I’m no conversationalist, but the alternative is more dreary nothing.” I shrugged. “If you don’t mind, how long has he been your man?” I motioned to the servant, riding a little ahead.
“Oh, some years. And you are correct: a little talk might push back the gloom. Norvec has been my attendant since my son gifted him to me.”
“A gift? So he’s a slave?” It wasn’t unheard of. Slavery is quite common, and often slaves of nobles fared better than their free counterparts, as the money not spent on wages could be put to other uses.
“I am no slave.” The servant, Norvec, grumbled from ahead.
“No, no, my son pays his wage. I helped the boy reach his position, a little hired help is the least he can do to repay me.”
I didn’t ask about the son’s position, it didn’t matter, but a suspicion was growing in my mind as to what might be afoot. “Your son must be a good deal younger than me. Sounds like he’s doing well in his youth.”
“Not so much younger. But yes, he has gone far in few years.” The old man obviously took pride in his progeny, and enjoyed talk of him. “I only wish he’d find himself a wife, preferably two. His children could accomplish yet more than he.”
“As long as they take after him.” I pointed out.
“Bah.” The old man waved dismissively. “Ambition and acquisitive drive run in the family. My father and brothers were the same way. They’ll take after him.”
“If you say so.” One rule I had for jobs like this was to not contradict the employer, even on trivial things. Besides, I was hardly listening anymore. I had a suspicion as to this Norvec’s intentions. The conversation lasted ten minutes more and drifted between subjects, but its contents were of little consequence. I spent most of it dividing my attention between the diplomat, his servant, and the road ahead. When the conversation subsided, and the dreary rain’s patter again dominated, it was gratefully that I fell back to where you were riding.
“Well?” You whispered.
“Nothing good. Stay clear of him. We’ll have to find a reason to start taking watches. I’ll take a longer one, we should only be two more days out anyway.”
“What’s he planning?” You were worried now, not just nervous.
“Let’s hope you don’t need to find out.” I wasn’t about to tell you that I figured Norvec was going to grab you and take you to his real employer, as a marital candidate or worse. It’s unfortunately quite a common fate for young, attractive women in our world - men of power take what they want, or have it brought to them by proxies. The old man might know, or might not, but he wasn’t the issue here.
“Set a watch, eh? All right. Here’s the plan: Play along, I’ve got this.” You smirked cleverly, and even soaked and surrounded by the gray rain the look melted my heart.
I nodded. “Okay. But what are you...”
“You’ll see.” You allowed your horse to slow, falling back.
I didn’t press the issue, though I usually preferred to know what’s going on, I decided to trust you. I spurred my horse forward, getting ahead of both of our charges, trying to think of what you had planned. Minutes passed. I was just wondering if you hadn’t yet come up with a plan when your sharp cry of alarm caused me to start and turn, in time to see you shoot an arrow off into the woods, jump off your horse and loose two more. I wasn’t sure at first if it was a ruse, but knew that either way my response should be the same. I drew my blade and circled my horse for a moment. “Get down and stay low.” I said over my shoulder to the now-surprised-looking men behind me. They didn’t question the suggestion, jumping to the gravel road and crouching between their horses. As soon as they did, I trotted circles around them until you walked your horse up to us. “Well?” I said, as soon as you were close.
“I don’t know. Looked like a man in a tree, when I yelled he dropped down and ran. And I missed.” If I wasn’t looking for the ruse, I wouldn’t have realized you’d made it up.
“You sure?” I looked around for effect. It was, I then noticed, really a good place for an ambush - a number of large, thick-branched trees near the road would make good perches for snipers. “Could be a scout, or a bandit hoping to get the drop on us.”
Norvec piped up. “Shouldn’t we move, then?” Apparently, he bought it. “Bandits rarely hunt alone.”
“You are very right. Let’s keep moving.” I wiped my now rain-dampened blade on my cloak before sliding it home. “Keep your eyes on the woods. We’ll keep our pace, but be ready to fly if we yell for it.”
You caught my eye, and I nodded. A good performance. I’d get no questions about our standing watch that night. Our charges re-mounted and we started moving again.
When the sun went down we flipped a coin to see which of us would watch first. You won the dubious honor, so I lay down near the night’s small fire and tried to get some sleep. I had more than my usual degree of success at first, but I awoke some time later to the sounds of two voices: yours, and Norvec’s.
“... they might still be stalking us?” Norvec was asking you.
“It’s possible, but I think that if they were going to move in they would have done it already.” You replied. I presumed the conversation related to our alleged bandits. “Still, we should keep a watch just in case.”
“I could take a shift, you know.” He offered.
“Thanks, but we’re the ones being paid to guard you and your boss. It’s not good business to give the employer reason to reduce the payment.” (You were right - many clients deducted from their agreed payment for every time that the client was allowed to help.) “I do appreciate the offer, though.”
“Sure.” Norvec sighed, and paused for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking, what led a girl like you to a life like this?”
“Nothing special. I just wasn’t happy where I lived. So I left.”
“So being out here makes you happy?”
“More often than being at home. But not as much as I’d hoped.” It was a span of a few heartbeats before you spoke further. “In dreams of adventure, you never dream of being grimy, dirty, tired, wet, or hurt. You never dream of being poor or hungry. But with all that, this life still beats what I did there.”
“What if there was another option?”
“What option?”
Norvec’s voice was low now, and I struggled to hear the words. “My master, the old man’s son, is a very rich man, and powerful. He is always looking to add more people to his employ. Especially beautiful women like yourself.” The lecherous tone made the servant’s meaning quite clear.
“You mean a harem?” You sounded horrified, as if you didn’t know that such things, like slavery and kidnappings, are not entirely uncommon.
“If you want to call it that.” The man was unconcerned.
“Sorry, I must decline.” You weren’t sorry, naturally.
“Of course you must.” It was obvious that he didn’t consider that the end of the matter.
You had the good sense to drop it, though. Knowing you’d make noise if he tried anything, I did my best to go back to sleep.
I must have succeeded, because the next thing I remember is you shaking me, murmuring that it was time for my watch. The diplomat and his servant were apparently asleep, and the fire was burned down to embers, hissing lightly in the damp night fog. Wordlessly, I got up and took a place near the embers of the fire, seating myself facing our charges.
Norvec stirred just before dawn, long before either you or his master, and set about quietly packing up his things and saddling both his own horse and the old man’s. I continued to keep watch, knowing that there was no reason to wake you yet.
“I take it there were no problems?” The man finally asked quietly.
“Nope.” I responded. “I’d say they didn’t pursue, but I don’t think we can go without a watch anymore.”
Norvec nodded in agreement. “Yes, your partner said the same thing.” He nodded toward you, curled up in your bedroll. “She really is quite a specimen, you know.”
I suppressed a shudder at that, but played along. “What are you getting at?”
“My real boss... shall we say, is a collector, and she’s exactly the kind he’s interested in having.” The man looked down at you again, and I wasn’t sure he was only appraising you for his master anymore.
“Don’t think she’ll go for that, but you can ask. Can’t hurt, right?” I responded neutrally.
“Already did. She was... hesitant.” Norvec turned back to the horses. “With your help, though, I’m sure we could... overcome her reticence.”
My distaste for this conversation rose again, but I had to play along. “You want help capturing my partner?”
“Exactly that. I assure you, the reward would be many times what we’re paying you for protection.”
“I’m sure. But then I’d be out a partner.” I pointed out. I wanted to keep him talking as long as possible, and I suspected it would be better if I played along.
“True.”
“If word got out, I would be working solo for a long time.” I noted.
“Also likely true.” He nodded. “But the potential value of such an acquisition for my boss would be - ”
You stirred, and Norvec broke off. “We’ll talk later.” With that, he went back to preparing the old man’s horse.
That day the rain held off, and we made good time. I filled you in on Norvec’s offer, and we both knew that he’d make a play even without my help, but we also knew that we couldn’t hope to get paid if we struck first. That night during my watch, the man again offered me large and unspecified amounts of money to help, and again I didn’t answer, pretending to be on the fence to stall him.
The last day of the trip dawned sunny, but the clouds on the horizon promised rain later in the day. Anxious to arrive before the storm, the old man requested we speed up our pace, so we moved quickly all morning. I guessed that Norvec would try to kidnap you just before we got into town, and I knew that if he did, chances were I’d have to kill him. Maybe the diplomat, too, if he was in on it, though so far I rather liked the old man and would prefer to let him go. That his son was apparently a scumbag was probably not completely his fault.
Sure enough, as we stopped to allow the old man to relieve himself in the woods, the servant showed his hand. Our destination was just across a low, wooded valley, and we could see the cook-fire smoke and dingy-gray sprawl of the city every time there was a break in the trees. As soon as the old man was out of sight, Norvec sidled up to you and started again extolling the virtues of harem life, explaining how well his boss treated his pet girls. I in turn moved closer to him, seeing that though with one hand he was gesturing expressively, he was concealing the other behind his back. I hoped you saw it too, and loosened my blade in its sheath.
Either you saw his concealed hand or you suspected something in his manor, because you stepped back and faced him, widening the distance.
“... and access to the boss’s library, too, if you can read or you want to learn.” The man was saying, taking a step toward you. You responded by taking another step back. His expression was positively lecherous at this point, and I wondered briefly if the boss allowed his servants use of the harem as well.
“Again, while it sounds great, right now I am perfectly content doing what - ” you were backing furiously now, and I was, as quietly as possible, advancing behind him. You shot a pleading gaze in my direction, which Norvec saw.
Turning around, he saw me. “So then. Have you decided to become rich, friend?”
I saw when he turned what he had in his hand. A vial, about an inch long, stoppered. If I had to guess, I’d say it was some sort of contact knockout serum.
“Sorry, no. Leave her alone.” I rested one hand meaningfully on the hilt of my blade.
“Too bad.” With that, Norvec popped the cap on the vial - and splattered its contents on me. Everywhere it landed, my skin grew numb, and I knew I’d be unconscious in a very short time if I were a mundane human.
There is a problem, though, in sedating Wilders. We’re made of tough stuff, and it is a simple matter to use the fires lurking in our hearts to overpower some sedatives entirely, and to delay others. I’m not sure exactly how it works, only that I was trained to do it. The serum he used on me was pretty powerful, but I knew I could burn through it for several minutes if necessary. I closed my eyes to hide the flames flickering there, and sank to my knees and slumped to the ground, pretending to succumb slowly to the serum.
“Keryk!” You gasped, concerned.
“Relax. It is a sedative only. He’ll be fine. You and I are leaving before he comes to, though.” I heard the clink of small chain, and suspected that he had produced a set of manacles.
“I’d rather die.” You spat.
“I’m sure of that. But would you kill your partner?” Norvec’s footsteps drew closer to me, and I felt the little man put a foot on my neck. The ring of a small blade being drawn made his intentions quite clear.
“Leave him alone.” You hissed. I sensed that you were going to try to overpower the man, not knowing about my ruse.
The foot left my neck, and the man got down next to me, probably hovering the point of the dagger over me. “Your choice. You can come peaceably, and I’ll let him live, or you can resist, and I’ll kill him, and you’ll still end up coming with me.”
At this point, I opened my eyes, knowing from the location of Norvec’s voice that he wouldn’t see it. You, however, did note the glowing flames burning therein, and took a step back. Norvec took this gesture as an answer.
“All right, the hard way it is.” I guessed that he was about to try to finish me off.
I rolled to the side and kicked out, catching him in the knee. More surprised than shocked, the man jumped back, not sure why I had suddenly returned to action, but quickly recovered, diving at me with his dagger.
I effortlessly batted aside the blade with my hand. Norvec wasn’t trained to fight, and even if he was, he couldn’t hope to match a Clan Warrior in single combat.
I was prepared to kill him if necessary, but it turned out I didn’t have to. You used Norvec’s confusion to get behind him and hit him over the head with a fallen tree branch, and he fell to the ground. As soon as he was out, you rushed to me.
“Keryk, are you all right?” Your voice shook a little.
“For now.” Trying to talk while channeling Wilder talents is always strangely difficult, so I was doing all I could manage just putting a few words together. “Burning through it. Tie him up.”
You obeyed, and I kept the fires burning long enough to oversee. As soon as Norvec was tied up and I had helped you sling him over his horse, I slumped against a tree, the fires in my eyes guttering. I was reaching the limit of my ability to burn through the sedation.
You saw my distress and rushed over. “Can’t keep this up.” I managed. “Going to pass out.”
“Anything I can do?” You asked concernedly.
“Finish the job. Get them to the city. I’m not dying.” I could feel the drug again seeping through my system, bringing numbed oblivion, if only for a few hours.
You nodded, and smiled. “You got it.”
As I finally succumbed to Norvec’s knockout drug, I felt you plant a kiss on my forehead.
Story continues in part 3 (here).
