Twelfth of Harvest
Marshal Tao Berias, chief of Svaleta’s militia, stepped into the Throne Room with a sense of unease. Farhad had always been erratic, his reactions unpredictable to strange news. And it was indeed strange news that Berias brought this morning. He waited patiently as the King dismissed the advisors that he was speaking to, stepping forward only when he was beckoned. He bowed before standing straight and announcing,
“Your Majesty, I bring a most unusual report.”
“My days are full of the unusual,” Farhad said dismissively. “Speak quickly. The Aliri are in our borders, creatures emerge from the forest, and I have no time.”
Berias took a deep breath to steady his nerves before he made his report. “I have received word that Larton’s chief scout is tracking a murder suspect south through King’s Crossing. It would appear that the murderer is of the Silent Order.”
Farhad straightened in his throne, his attention suddenly aroused. “Tell me everything.”
“The mage was snuck across the border by a known smuggler who later turned up dead. Two days later, eight raiders were killed in the same fashion at a farm in the Hold. The chief scout reports that he is on the attacker’s trail, and that the killings could not have been carried out with any weapon that he is aware of.”
Farhad frowned. “Where is the killer headed?”
“We don’t know,” Berias admitted. “He appears to be headed towards King’s Crossing, but that news is two days old. The scout’s deputy is attempting to make regular reports, but the distance makes it difficult.”
Farhad nodded thoughtfully. “So we should hear more by tomorrow morning.”
“We hope so.”
“Keep me updated,” the king ordered. “As soon as you learn more, bring it to my attention. The Silent Order does not appear idly. Much less do they kill without purpose. I do not believe that it is a coincidence that this mage has appeared in a moment of crisis.”
“What action should the scout take?” Berias asked.
Farhad thought for a moment. “Track the mage, and learn his purpose by any means. And Berias, do not delay.”
“The message will depart immediately,” the marshal promised, and took his leave. Farhad watched him go, then buried his face in his hands. Another potential crisis. Will we ever know peace in this land? Not for the first time, he felt that such a prospect was a mere dream. The coming of the Silent Order was not a good omen, and he felt fear beginning to creep into his heart.
What was peace, anyway?
* * *
During the night Davos had wandered the perimeter of their camp and found a pair of streams only a short walk to the east. He managed to trap four rabbits, which he cooked that morning over a small fire. They all ate hungrily before he announced his intention to bathe. The women didn’t seem to pay much attention as he wandered off towards the water. He took his time stripping, throwing his clothes over a branch. He gently lowered himself into the cool water, sighing at the stream’s comforting flow. As a scout he was used to hard treks and going weeks without comfort, but he enjoyed the opportunities that he did receive. The water also helped him think, and he needed to do much of that. Belkai was a puzzle to him. She was a peculiar paradox of gentleness and sturdiness, of beauty and danger. It wasn’t that he was attracted to her, but he felt a strange desire to plough the depths of her mind and understand what drove her. His grandmother had taught him about many strange things that had been forgotten by most Svaletans, but one of her most enduring lessons was that magic was a double-sided blessing. Was Belkai led by the goodness that magic offered the world, or had she been caught by the darker side that threatened destruction? He admitted to himself that he may not know the answer until it was too late.
When he emerged from the stream, he found that his companions had moved everything to the second stream. He joined Loranna, who sat beside their packs peeling back the skin of a banana, her wet hair clinging to the back of her neck.
“Feel better?” she asked. Davos chuckled.
“Human, at least,” he replied. “I would count that as an improvement.”
“You smell better, for what it’s worth,” Loranna quipped, then tossed him his own banana. “A snack for the road.”
A splash caught Davos’ attention as he sat, and for a moment he watched as Belkai slipped into the water. He was brought back to the present by Loranna kicking his foot.
“You like her, don’t you?” she laughed. When he hesitated, she dropped her voice and said, “She’s not a monster, you know. There is a difference between a killer and a murderer.”
“Is there?” Davos took a bite of his banana. “Where do you draw the line?”
“She has not shed innocent blood,” Loranna reminded him. “At worst, you track a vigilante. Or are you wary because she is not like us?”
“I am not like us,” Davos snapped back. “She has magic, I am not truly a man. I don’t care that she is different. Her bloodshed makes me wary.”
“And mine does not?” Loranna asked gently. “I kill for money, Davos. Or have you forgotten that?”
No, he hadn’t, Davos had to admit to himself. So why did he hold two standards? “The way she kills…”
“Is the way she survives,” Loranna cut him off. “Life is short, Davos. And opportunities are limited. Don’t fear your own heart. There are real dangers on our road. You are not one of them. I dare say, neither is she.”
“You used to be a cynic,” he pointed out. “What changed?”
Loranna waved a hand at Belkai, who was running her hands through her hair to work through her knots. “She did.”
Davos watched Belkai for a few more moments, then stood. “We need to get moving. I want to reach the shelter of the Quarries by nightfall.”
Loranna shook her head as he called for Belkai to finish up. All that wisdom and none for himself, she thought. One day he would learn. Maybe.
Belkai sighed as she slipped into her cotton top and leather pants, feeling Davos’ gaze on her the entire time. She hadn’t expected his attention when he had decided to follow her. She had expected suspicion, caution, maybe even hostility. He had possessed all of those at first, and she could still sense them in him. What she hadn’t expected was desire. So what do you do with that? She had no answer as she closed her pack and slung it over her shoulders. She didn’t wear the cape anymore now that there was no need to hide the daggers on her hips.
“We head for the Quarries,” Davos called out now that she was dressed. “Hopefully we’ll reach it by nightfall.”
“I do recall making the plan,” Belkai pointed out as she brushed past him, not feeling any need to hide her annoyance. “Do try to keep up.”
Loranna patted Davos on the shoulder as she walked past next. “Please try not to anger the mage with combat experience, my friend. My medical training isn’t as clear in my head as it used to be.”
He stood there for a few moments, still staring at the stream as his companions made their way south. He hadn’t meant to offend Belkai, he had simply slipped into his role as Chief Scout. He was surprised to feel a twinge of guilt at the moment of accidental arrogance. He didn’t owe her anything. So why do you fear her offence? He didn’t find an answer as he jogged to catch up.
* * *
His heart will decide the fate of Svaleta. Siara’s words echoed through Sashai’s mind as she rode. Her horse’s name was “Snowmane”, a pure white stallion that she had been learning to ride in recent weeks. He had seemed to connect with her from the moment they met, making him the obvious choice for fulfilling Siara’s order. Her purpose still puzzled Sashai. She had no idea how to find the cave that Siara had mentioned, nor had she any clue what the message meant. Who was this Lowborn, and why was he so critical that Sashai had to spend two days riding as fast as she could?
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
So far she had resisted the temptation to read the message that Siara had written. The hard ride had helped in that regard. She had spent the night at a small inn near the crossroads where the highway intersected with the road to the Quarries. She had shared a meal with a group of mages from Lustria but retired early. Now she followed a rough track that would lead her to the main route from the Quarries to the town of Hirton. Hopefully she would find the cave by the end of the day. There she would set up camp and wait.
The question still rang in her mind, though. She trusted Siara implicitly. She’d been orphaned when she was still a child, and the Temple had taken her in and raised her in their ways. Siara had always been a comforting presence, a source of wisdom in her darkest moments. It was only in recent days, however, that she had forged that deeper relationship. She didn’t know what the Prophetess had seen in her, but she was determined to live up to her expectations. If Siara had a reason for her secrecy, then Sashai would respect it.
* * *
Davos led the group through a rocky ditch just off the main road, hidden from any other travellers by a thin tree line. Few took this road; even though the labour camps in the Quarries were reserved for political criminals, there was enough of a general fear of them that only official missions came this way. Even those heading for Hirton tended to take a more circuitous route to avoid the area. That would make them far more suspicious to any passers-by, who would certainly want to stop the three wanderers and ask some very probing questions. Nonetheless, this was the route that Belkai had insisted on, and by now Davos knew better than to argue. They had been travelling for several hours when both Belkai and Davos froze. Loranna took an extra step, saw them both scanning for something, and stopped, dropping her hand to her axe.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice low and her eyes searching for threats.
“Something smells wrong,” Davos said quietly. Belkai wasn’t listening as she focused on the road. Her eyes widened as she snapped,
“Orcs!”
She started off running, with Davos and Loranna straining to keep up. Davos’ mind raced as they moved. Orc bands usually targeted defenceless civilians, not military transports or political figures. Savages though they were, the feral orcs avoided confrontation where possible. It was a rare element of sanity for the beasts. So what was Belkai detecting?
It was tough work running on the rocky ground, but it didn’t seem to bother Belkai in her determination. It was a few minutes before they could see what Belkai had sensed, and they dropped prone just beyond the road as they took it in. Three carriages lay ahead of them. One was cast onto its side, hay bales spilled across the road beside it. As they watched, an orc threw a flaming torch onto the pile and set it alight. Two more carriages were crashed into the ditch on one side of the road. The horses had been cut down by brutal-looking barbed arrows. A half dozen bodies were visible, and as the three companions lay still watching the scene they could see the orcs thrusting their blades through skulls to confirm the kills.
Belkai moved first. She had come a long way since the days when she was sixteen and fighting Arak, her orc trainer. She’d grown physically of course, but also in terms of her cunning. An orc’s greatest weakness is his ego, she reminded herself as she approached the bandit raid. She assumed that this ‘feral’ breed would be no different.
“Belkai!” Davos hissed as she stood and moved onto the road. Loranna grabbed his arm and held him still.
“Just wait,” she whispered. “Trust me.”
Belkai ignored both of their voices as she moved down the road, arms held out to the side. Her daggers were hidden in the small of her back and she yelled out,
“What are you doing?”
There was a panic in her voice as she sank to her knees in the middle of the road. The orcs turned towards her, one of them stopping its sword mid-swing. Tears filled her eyes as she bit hard on the inside of her cheek. It didn’t take much to fool the orcs, blinded as they were by the longing for more bloodshed. There were seven of them and they advanced towards Belkai in a line, eyes fixed on this strange woman who had interfered with their blood sport. Davos and Loranna crept closer in the ditch, careful to make as little noise as possible. The orcs were completely focused on Belkai and didn’t notice the faint sounds of pebbles falling as the two companions moved. Belkai lowered her eyes to the road and acted as if she were sobbing at the destruction before her. She could sense the orcs drawing close, and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It was time.
The first orc bent over to take a hold of her hair, ignorant to its nearby comrade who suddenly collapsed with blood streaming from its eyes. As the orc reached out, Belkai reached behind her back, took hold of her daggers, and jumped up to slash them across its throat. She spun away as it fell to its knees, and she selected her next target.
To Davos, it was like watching a dancer. Belkai ducked, spun, and stayed light on her feet as she met the orcs head on. Without saying a word, both he and Loranna leaped onto the road and charged, hitting the orcs from the rear while they were approaching Belkai. It was a tough but quick fight. The orcs had expected to kill a bunch of peasants, not three armed humans with fire in their eyes. They were quickly overcome, and the final orc tried to run before Loranna threw her axe, its blade burying itself in the creature’s back. It dropped to the ground spasming, and Loranna stepped over to finish the job.
The carriage had stopped burning by the time Loranna had smashed open the orc’s skull. The horses, first cut down by orcish arrows, had been butchered, probably intended to be used for meat. Belkai forced down a wave of nausea as she looked at the bodies. There were about a dozen of them, but she couldn’t tell if they were male or female. There wasn’t much left, the brutality of the attack a shock to her mind. She’d seen the orcs confirming the kills as she walked towards them; why then all this savagery?
“Damned orcs,” Loranna whispered to her as Davos stepped forward to inspect the bodies. “They have no regard for dignity.”
“I come from the Ikari Dominion,” Belkai told her. “I grew up around orcs. They believe in honour. These feral ones…they are not the same.”
“They are all beasts,” Loranna said.
"The Ikari are noble, and mostly tolerant of others if they submit to their rule,” Belkai told her. “It’s not perfect freedom, but it’s certainly not this. I have never seen anything like this in the Dominion.”
“We call them feral for a reason,” Loranna replied. “The distinction means little when you see things like this.”
“One’s still alive!” Davos yelled, rolling a shattered torso down the slope beside the road. A groan came from the man who had been hiding underneath. He wore the clothes of a peasant, but he was built like a soldier. As he sat up, Belkai glimpsed a necklace with a red jewel. She said nothing as Davos gave him some water.
“What’s your name?” the scout asked.
“Roulson,” the man rasped. “My name is Roulson. We were a civilian ride.”
“What happened?” Belkai asked, sitting beside him and putting a hand on his leg. He looked up at the three of them with wide eyes, as if assuring himself that they were both real and human, then gave his answer.
“We were coming south when they attacked out of nowhere. Their archers killed the horse and we fell out. Ingrid fell on top of me when they butchered her. They thought I was dead. I thought I was dead.”
“What do you do for a living?” Davos asked. Belkai frowned, not understanding why he would ask.
“I’m just a farmer,” Roulson replied, but Belkai felt his hesitation.
“You might want to try again,” Davos growled, and snatched the necklace from around his neck. Holding it up, he said, “I know this necklace. It is given to border guards. You’re a deserter, aren’t you, Roulson?”
“Wouldn’t you be too?” Roulson snapped. Seeing the confusion on their faces, his eyes widened. “Gods. You don’t know, do you? How could you not know?”
“Know what?” Belkai prodded. Loranna looked over from where she had been using her axe to search the charred wagon for supplies.
“Three nights ago, the Aliri took the border. We didn’t stand a chance. There was a fog, I swear it wasn’t natural. We didn’t see them until they were right on top of us.” A tear ran down his face. “Yes, I ran. It was the only way to survive.”
“And you hitched a ride to the Quarries,” Davos said. Roulson nodded.
“They say you can disappear here. That’s my only chance, to disappear. To desert is to earn death.”
“Death is the coward’s reward,” Davos quoted from the military lawbook. “They do not give much room for mercy.”
“He’ll be assumed dead by now,” Belkai pointed out. “And he will be dead if more orcs come.”
“What do you want to do with him?” Loranna asked. Belkai stood, then helped Roulson to his feet.
“We should let him join us,” Belkai announced, her eyes not leaving Roulson’s. “If he wishes.”
“Who are you?” he asked. Belkai shrugged.
“We have a quest. We’re heading south to Hirton, then continuing from there.”
The only thing south of Hirton was Narandir, Roulson knew. To enter the Forest was suicide. But so was staying here on his own, so he didn’t seem to have much of a choice. He nodded.
“I will join you.”
“Belkai,” Davos said forcefully. “A word, if you will.”
Loranna tossed Roulson a sword that she’d found in the carriage, then led him away from the massacre site. Belkai followed Davos off the road and out of Roulson’s earshot.
“What are you thinking?” There was no condemnation in the scout’s voice, just a need to understand.
"He’s dead if we don’t bring him,” Belkai said quietly. “And we may need an extra sword in Narandir.”
Davos bit his lip as he looked away, then asked, “What is in that Forest, Belkai? What is your goal?”
Belkai gave a half-smile. “Buy me a drink in Hirton. Maybe more than one. Then I’ll tell you my goal. But that’s my condition.”
Davos wasn’t satisfied, but it was a leap in the right direction. He nodded. “Drinks it is, then. I’ll hold you to it.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Belkai winked at him, then walked back to the road while calling out for the others to prepare to keep moving. She knew the look that Davos was giving her, the look that he’d given her throughout the past day. He had spent so long expecting a savage that his brain was struggling to comprehend that it had been a young woman who had killed with such ferocity. There were many ways a mind would grapple with that change of perspective. Davos’ was a physical expression of the curiosity that raged in his head. Belkai didn’t mind, and it was useful for keeping his loyalty, but she knew the threat that he posed, even if he himself didn’t. All had to be kept in perspective. So now she had three followers. One followed his desire, physical and psychological. One followed gold. And one owed her his life. It was an interesting mix, Belkai thought. One could get used to it.
When Belkai walked away, Davos undid his pants and turned to a tree. Satisfied that no one would watch, he pulled a dagger out of its sheath on his leg and scratched his initials onto the tree, along with a ‘H’. If Ukari saw it, he would understand. For all his reasons to follow Belkai, and for all his emotional confusion, he was a militiaman first. He would not forget it.