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.
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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 – and the cloak – 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 – being that it was made of steel – 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.
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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!”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“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.
“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.”
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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.”
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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 rounded the blade 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.
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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.
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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.
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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...”