Fourteenth of Harvest
The night passed slowly, and on the third watch the rain finally slowed and stopped. Roulson was on duty when the skies finally cleared, and he watched as the moon finally peeked out from behind a cloud. The last time he had seen a night so dark, it had been the night the Aliri had attacked. The thought made him shudder. Every night, the memories had come back to him as he slept. He dreamt that he wandered the battlefield among the shattered bodies, each reaching out to him asking where he had been, why he hadn’t fought with them. Every night he had woken in a sweat, his heart racing.
He blinked his eyes and forced himself to focus. When the first glow of the sunrise appeared above the mountains, he began to rouse the others. If they set out in the next hour or two, they would arrive in Hirton by early afternoon, depending on the effects of the rain. Roulson didn’t understand why Belkai and the others were so set on avoiding other travellers, not when they were planning on visiting Hirton anyway. But understanding didn’t take long to dawn on him. He knew that every day Hirton was visited by dozens of strangers, and there was no way that he would remember even a fraction of their faces. You noticed strangers in a field. You didn’t notice them in a tavern. Sometimes the best way to avoid notice was to join a crowd.
“Is it dry yet?” Davos grumbled when Roulson woke him.
“We’ll have the sun, at least,” Roulson replied. “It’ll take some hours for it to dry though.”
“When did it stop?”
“It’s been two hours or so,” Roulson told him. “The rest depends on how hot it will be.”
“You can’t win either way,” Davos said. “Alright, let’s great some breakfast going.”
“Not more of your bread and fruit,” Belkai called out, rising out of her bedroll. “We’re having meat this morning.”
“Are you a hunter now?” Davos asked, crossing his arms.
Belkai shrugged. “I can do well enough for myself. If you’re any sort of competent tracker, then you’d know that.”
“You managed,” Davos admitted. “But that doesn’t make you a hunter.”
Belkai was already headed out of the cave, one of her daggers in hand. Not looking back, she said,
“I hope you have an apology by the time I return, Lowborn, or there’ll be nothing for you.”
“Should we go with her?” Roulson asked.
“No.” Davos watched as Belkai crouched and disappeared into the foliage beside the road. “No, she can handle herself.”
Roulson nodded. “I’ll get the fire going.”
Half an hour later, Belkai returned carrying four hares. They were plump, and to their grumbling stomachs it looked to be a feast. Davos set about preparing the meat while Belkai packed her bedroll away.
“Where’d you learn to hunt?” Davos asked as he dropped the meat onto the fire. As the others listened, Belkai told them about the mountain test that the Order gave, embellishing the occasional point as storytellers are wont to do. She finished about the same time as the meat was cooked, and no one spoke as they ate. Finally, Davos said,
“You’re quite the survivor.”
Belkai shrugged. “You do what you have to. I wasn’t going to give up and become some farmer’s wife like some others did.”
“No, I couldn’t picture that,” Davos agreed. He stood and put out the fire before announcing that they had another half hour before they set out. It would be a tiring journey today, but real beds beckoned. With full stomachs and comfort beckoning, they had high spirits as they left the cave.
* * *
Rangir stepped into his captain’s tent to find him talking with a member of the King’s Guard. Rangir bowed, then identified himself. Ertas signalled for the two men to sit, then said,
"This is Captain Andiri of the Guard. We have orders from the King himself.”
“They are unusual, to say the least,” Andiri began. “But I have ridden through the night to be here.”
The two soldiers exchanged glances. The urgency did not bode well for them.
“And what does the King request of us?” Ertas asked first. Andiri shook his head.
“Some militia scout from Larton has been following a mage responsible for several murders. Apparently she killed a smuggler and some bandits.” He shrugged. “Not that I mind, it saves me some effort. But she is headed for Narandir and intends to travel through the Forest. I assume that you have heard tales of the Recluse?”
“An all-powerful wizard who lives in the forest, a descendant of the empire that we defeated a millennium ago?” Rangir laughed. “It’s a useful myth to keep children away from the Forest.”
“After all that you have seen, Rangir, you still dismiss it as a myth?” Ertas growled. He turned to Andiri. “The Recluse is real?”
Andiri shrugged again. “The King believes that he is. That is enough for our purposes, is it not?”
There was no arguing with that, Rangir knew. “So what does the King request of us that you have ridden with such urgency?”
"She is expected to enter Narandir in three days. From there, we suspect that she will be seeking out the Recluse to form some sort of alliance. We will follow her to the Recluse and kill him.”
“Why?” Rangir found himself blurting out. Ertas glared at him, but Andiri seemed to approve of the question.
“You have seen what comes from the Forest. I have heard your reports,” the King’s Guard said. “The King believes that the Recluse has ordered the attacks, that it is somehow connected with the Aliri invasion. The timing issuspicious, I have to say. So if we want to stop these attacks, the King believes, we must kill the Recluse.”
“You said that ‘we’ must follow her,” Ertas said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his thick arms. “Are you coming with us, then?”
Andiri recognised the challenge, and didn’t flinch as he took it up. “The King has appointed me as his eyes and ears. I will be with you.”
Ertas gave a broad smile. “Well, then, welcome to the company, Captain Andiri. What’s your combat experience?”
“I have faced my fair share of bandits and orcs,” Andiri told him. “Few can boast of facing giant insects and spiders.”
“These are strange times,” Rangir agreed. “You learn fast, if you survive.”
“Indeed you do,” Andiri said. He looked to Ertas and said, “Well, we have our orders. What do you say to a stiff drink?”
Ertas laughed, the first time Rangir had seen him show genuine joy. “I think I shall like working with you, Andiri.”
As Rangir fetched ale and mugs, he realised what Ertas had done in that simple statement. He hadn’t simply welcomed Andiri, he had reminded him who the company belonged to. Rangir just hoped that Andiri was wise enough to understand.
* * *
The road to Hirton was unusually empty after the previous day’s rain. That made the trek far easier, with the group avoiding the thick mud that bordered the road on either side. Nonetheless, it was slow going on a road usually travelled by horses. Even Roulston, used to forced matches, found himself exhausted by the time Hirton came into view. After days of open roads, orcs, and caves, the sight of the city’s brick and mortar was almost divine. The road became smoother the closer they came to the city, one of the many benefits to re-entering civilisation.
“They know about taverns here, right?” Loranna asked quietly as they approached the militia checkpoint at the entrance to the city. The group’s laughter was a testimony to their exhaustion. The checkpoint was minimal, just two militiamen who stepped aside when Davos showed them the medallion that he kept in a pocket to announce his position.
“Benefits of friends in high places,” he told Belkai, who rolled her eyes.
“Just sniff us out a tavern, will you?” she said, grinning at his initial anger. “Relax. But seriously, Loranna needs something stiff to drink.”
They wandered down cobblestone streets until they found a well-populated building with a sign proclaiming ‘The Royal Arbiter.’
“Seems pretentious enough,” Davos remarked. He led the others through the door and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of alcohol and freshly roasted meat.
“I’ll get the rooms,” Loranna told them. “You get the drinks.”
Once she joined them at the table, Roulson glanced around to make sure they hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention.
“There is only one road that leads south of here,” he told them, keeping his voice low. “It leads to the Last Outpost, and that’s about as far as you can go as far as civilisation is concerned.”
“That’s a horrible name for a town,” Belkai noted. She held up a hand before Roulson could say anything. “I realise the history behind it, I just think that it’s a bad name.”
“The Ikari saw some fog and called it a ‘Misty Veil’.” Davos leaned back in his chair. “I guess you can’t call orcs creative.”
“Give an orc a knife and he can do some very talented art,” Belkai shot back, her eyes gleaming. “Though I guess a deputy may not overly appreciated his fine talents.”
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Loranna dropped into a seat beside Belkai and reached for the honeymead that Belkai had found for her.
“Four rooms, all on the second floor,” she said, waving a hand at the stairs to their left. “Next floor up, for when you’re drunk. I paid a little extra, so the owner will forget that we ever existed.”
“You paid extra of my silver, you mean,” Davos said. Loranna shrugged.
“Semantics, Davos. Mere semantics.” She turned to Belkai. “No offense to your hares, but did you manage to find any, uh, more expansive food options?”
“The cook is preparing lamb. Hopefully it’s not too fresh for you,” Belkai replied with a smirk. Loranna shrugged and gave a noncommittal grunt, and Belkai laughed. “For a sell-sword, you’ve gotten quite demanding.”
Davos closed his eyes and listened to the bard in the far corner. He was playing some mournful song about a long-lost love. It was hardly original, but at least he was talented. That was better than most that he’d heard in King’s Crossing.
“How far are you going to travel with us, Roulson?” Loranna was asking.
“I’ll follow you part way to the Forest, then I’ll head to the Last Outpost,” he told her. “In a few weeks I’ll hitch a ride back to King’s Crossing. When they’re no longer looking for me.”
“The Kingdom is at war, Roulson,” Davos growled, and opened his eyes. “They don’t care about deserters now. They care about surviving.”
“What do you know of war, Deputy? Not raiders, but real war?” Roulson spat. “When the arrows start killing your friends, what will you do? What will you do when your best friend lies beside you, his head caved in by a troll?”
The soldier came to his feet and yelled, “You know nothing.”
He stormed out, and Loranna followed close behind, briefly resting her hand on Davos’ shoulder to settle his growing anger.
“His reasons are his own,” Belkai said, sliding Davos’ drink closer to him. He picked it up as she continued. “If he returns home, they will kill him. And his wife, if she takes him in.”
“You pity him.”
Belkai didn’t answer at first. A servant brought their food on a platter and bowed as she left. Belkai thanked her, then finally answered Davos.
“I pity all of us for being born into this world.”
Davos saw the sadness in her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to ask. When you meditate each night, what do you think of?”
Something changed in her face, but he couldn’t understand what it was. When she answered, it was with a question of her own. “Do you believe in the gods, Davos? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you pray.”
“I have seen too much death to look to the gods for help,” Davos said. “My prayer is my service to those in need.”
Belkai nodded thoughtfully. “There are many beings outside our realm, Davos. When you use magic, you are tapping into their own powers. That’s why most cannot learn more than one form. You wrestle with cosmic realities beyond our power or comprehension.
“When I meditate, I wrestle with that.”
It wasn’t strictly a lie, but it was far from the whole truth. The Tormentor was certainly in that other realm, but he had never been the source of the Order’s power. He only corrupted what already existed.
“Who does the Silent Order draw from?”
“We call ourselves the Brilhardem. It’s an old Ikari name, it means the children of the wind. But we serve the Creator, the One who started everything.”
Davos frowned. “I have heard that title, but it is rarely spoken here.”
Belkai shrugged. “The older paths sometimes have more light. Being forgotten does not change that. But it does make it harder to explain.”
"Where did you learn all of those older paths? You always speak of these legends, even ones that we have apparently all forgotten. Is that what your Order teaches?”
How was she to answer that? In the beginning, the Tormentor’s voice hadn’t filled Belkai with fear. His voice was sweet as he opened her eyes to many of the forgotten truths. Even so, it had been a few weeks before she had gained the courage to finally ask him,
“Your name is Ashelath. In the older tongues, that means Father of Serpents. The few times your name is mentioned, you are spoken of as a betrayer. How do I know I can trust you?”
She had felt his hand on her shoulder, the touch light and inviting, like that of a loving father. He had laughed softly before answering.
“The truth is in who speaks of me as a betrayer. That came, of course, from the Arcane. But can you tell me what they are?”
That was something everyone had been taught since birth. Belkai had no difficulty answering that. “They are the emanations from the First Being, parts of the Original that disconnected and divided its power. Together they brought the world into being.”
“And how did they do that?”
Belkai frowned. “Every Arcane Cultus speaks differently. The sun worshippers declare that her pure energy was released and was the first cause. Others say that Tal’ai breathes all into existence. But it’s strange. Everyone agrees on the nature of the Arcane. But no one agrees on how they brought everything into existence.”
Ashelath laughed again. “That’s because they didn’t, my dear. The Arcane are equal, but only in their weakness. I was removed from their number because I discovered the truth.”
“What truth?”
“You’ll learn that in time, child. But I rebelled against our weakness and sought true power. It was denied to me. And I was cast down from my throne among the others.”
“And now you are cursed to darkness, the tales say.”
“The darkness was always my home,” Ashelath replies, and Belkai could hear the mourning in his voice. “But it was never considered a curse until they banished me.”
“So you are not a betrayer?”
“I simply desire the truth.”
Belkai wished that she could rewind time and change that conversation. In her blind lust for knowledge, she had believed the demon. His voice had been so enticing, giving all the answers that she’d sought. She’d had no idea that it was a lie.
Father of Serpents. His name was true, and she had been caught in his coils the moment her hands had grasped that cursed book.
Belkai realised that Davos was waiting for her answer, and she shrugged. “We had good teachers in the Order.”
“Who are wiser than ours and know secrets long lost?” Davos scoffed. “Why should I believe your version?”
Because Ashelath only ever lied about himself, Belkai thought, but said out loud, “We have no king to demand a certain perspective, no status quo to protect. We simply collect knowledge and discern truth.”
“Everyone has an agenda, Belkai.”
“It’s hard to lie when everyone in the room can sense your every emotion,” Belkai pointed out. Not that she hadn’t managed to do just that. “There is no incentive to dishonesty.”
“Perhaps,” Davos allowed. “Or maybe that breeds complacency.”
Maybe that was true, Belkai admitted to herself. The enemy had dwelt among them and they hadn’t known. She was about to respond when Loranna and Roulson returned.
“I apologise for what I said,” Davos said, his eyes flitting between Roulson and Belkai. The mage gave him a sweet smile for his decision. “What you saw…I cannot imagine.”
Roulson nodded. “Twice I have failed in my duty. I will not fail the three of you.”
“Then let’s eat!” Loranna announced, tired of the tension. Like most who were used to hard living, she relished the opportunities she had to enjoy a restful night in civilisation. Rare as they were, they should be enjoyed, not wasted in hard conversations. As they spoke and laughed, Davos found his eyes drifting more and more to Belkai. She was strangely radiant despite her clear fatigue. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but a few stray strands hung down her soft cheeks. Her grey cotton top hugged her tight, highlighting her inviting curves, and she caught his stares a few times without making a comment, though he could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile. You’re dreaming, Davos. Perhaps he was, but if so, it was a good dream.
* * *
In time Roulson excused himself and headed for his room. Loranna decided to walk the streets and look around the city. She hadn’t visited Hirton in a few years, and had some old sights to revisit. Davos glanced at Belkai and offered to buy her a drink.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she laughed. “A beer, if you would. Two if you’d rather.”
When he returned with both her drinks, she said,
“I did promise to tell you why I head for Narandir.”
"That you did.” They tapped their mugs together, and Davos added, “I held up my end of the bargain.”
“And I thank you for it.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she took a swig of her beer. “What do you know of the Recluse?”
Davos sighed. It was a story that every Svaletan child was taught. “A thousand years ago we fought a war against a kingdom of mages. We won. The survivors fled to Narandir. Their leader was named the Recluse, and he brought the Forest to life. Some say his descendants still live there. Others say that he himself still roams the Forest. It’s become something of a fairy tale to keep people out of Narandir.”
“That is a useful set of half-truths,” Belkai told him, smiling at his confusion. It never ceased to amaze her how willing Svaletans were to believe the official stories. It was so typical of them that Davos was thrown out of balance even after their earlier conversation. The kings must rule in bliss, she thought. She shrugged and said, “Yes, you fought that war, and you won. But your Kingdom was very different then. This was maybe a hundred years after the Palian Empire vanished. Men and elves lived alongside each other, and there were many orders of mages of various streams. Then the King ordered the end of magic within his borders for reasons that were his own. When he sought to kill them, they rose up and fought. You see, Davos, it was not a kingdom of mages that you fought. It was magic itself, within your own borders.
“It was a brutal war. Thousands died, but the king’s forces ultimately prevailed. When the last holdouts fled to Narandir, they found an ancient magic that had been forgotten to the years. The king didn’t know it then, but his mercy in giving them the Forest gave them access to power that even the Arcane had no ability to retrieve. Power that only recently was known to be unleashed.”
“So you were sent to find it.”
“I was sent to find the Recluse and speak to him. To gain understanding of his purposes. For centuries that magic has been out of view of mortal and immortal alike. We need to know why it awakened.”
Again, it was a half-truth. The Tormentor had his purposes as well, ones that Belkai did not dare to speak. But everything she had said was the truth, if not the entire story.
“So why the secrecy?” Davos asked.
“I do not hide from Svaleta,” Belkai replied, surprising him. “Hence why we sit in a tavern. But there are those whose attention would be drawn by a Child of the Wind.”
Davos thought about this for a moment. “The king is one of those people. Why did you trust me when I was hunting you?”
Belkai grinned as she took another drink. “It was your horse.”
She burst out laughing at the confusion on his face. “When I was in King’s Crossing I listened to your horse as you galloped. I sensed your determination, but I knew that the horse wanted to please you. He was at peace, even in his exhaustion. If an animal trusts a man, he has a pure heart.”
“Well, I did not expect that,” Davos admitted, but he did so with a smile. “Remind me to thank the beast.”
Belkai shrugged. “It also helped that you came alone. You left your deputy behind.”
“And now?”
‘And now’ indeed. Belkai could sense what was in his mind. He knew the danger in her, knew what she was capable of. But still he wanted to know her. He was motivated by his heart’s desire, not by what he could gain. The contrast with the Tormentor could not have been stronger had a bard composed the story.
“You are a good man with a good heart, Davos,” she whispered, and reached out to take his hand. “I would trust you with my life.”
His eyes seemed to soften at her touch. “You look radiant tonight, Belkai.”
She smiled mischievously. “That’s the beer speaking.”
“I haven’t drunk that much.”
Belkai looked deep in his eyes and saw his longing. She felt a twinge of guilt. She couldn’t give what he wanted, her heart was too darkened. But she could give something else.
“Perhaps we should find our rooms,” she whispered, and he smiled.
“Maybe just mine,” he replied. They stood, Belkai slinging her pack over her shoulder before taking his hand in her own as they moved towards the stairs. Loranna came back inside at that moment, and as her eyes met Belkai’s she gave a wink. Belkai smiled back and whispered to Davos,
“Just so long as there’s no fairies, right?”
His laugh echoed through the tavern as they made their way up the stairs. Davos checked the key that Loranna had passed on and quickly found the right door. He pushed it open, waved Belkai inside, then locked it behind them. It was a humble room, certainly not living up to its ‘royal’ title. It was dominated by a good-sized bed with green sheets, with a set of drawers in one corner. The wall-mounted candles weren’t lit, but a small window let in the dying sunlight. Belkai had already dropped her pack against the wall, placing her daggers on top for easy access. As Davos watched, she slowly stripped off her top, revealing a black chest garment made of silk. His eyes were locked on her as she released the clips and let it fall to the floor. She cocked her head as she undid her hair and shook it out as it fell across her shoulders and hung tantalisingly over her bare chest. Davos’ eyes were burning with desire as he ran his eyes over her body, every inch beckoning for his touch.
“Not just the beer, then?” she asked with a sly smile. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms behind his neck as she pulled him close. Their lips met with a soft hesitancy that quickly evaporated as days of desire finally found their fulfilment in a passionate embrace.