Chapter 4

Fires lit the night as Ag scrambled up the slope. He glanced back, down the rocky hill and out over the stoney landscape of his homeland to where his village burned. Eyes filled with a bloody red light followed him and the rest of those that had escaped, their chittering sounds floated up to him on the wind, spurring him to move faster. Onward he scrambled, his left arm flaring with pain with every move, the long gash on it still leaking blood. He clung desperately to the long handled weapon his father had pushed into his hands, its blade already stained by the creature's blood. Down below he could still hear the screams and heard the crack of magical power as the Red Captain laid waist to what was left of his tribe.

His mother scrambled beside him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She was by no means old but the struggle of the fight just to escape the confines of the village had been a hard one and she had more than one injury to deal with. She held an ax that had once been used for chopping wood but had been repurposed for killing. His father was not with them, the last Ag had seen of him was in the village square, in full imperial armor, facing down a swarm led by a Red Captain. He’d bought them time and had probably died to do it. Ag had no time to mourn his fathers death or the deaths of any of the others he’d come to know in his sixteen years of living. Murda was down there, he knew she was dead, he’d held her mangled corpse before his father had pulled him away.

They reached the hill's peak and looked out over the village, a small cluster of houses creating a light that illuminated most of the valley they’d called home. There were a dozen of them on the hill, mostly women but all were armed and ready to fight if they had to and they all had to. The eyes had scaled the hill far quicker then they had, Ag saw the first rise over the edge, a guttural, chittering snarl coming from beneath them. The light caught the ridges of its twisted body and the long claws that had replaced its fingers as they flexed open and close before it charged at them. He could see it bearing down on him, a thing of nightmares that wished only to kill. Its clawed hangs opened, ready to dig into him, to rip him apart when he woke.

Darkness still surrounded him but it was another land and another time. He’d thought the dreams had passed but something about their job to kill a Red Captain had brought them back. He scanned the area around him, the smoldering remnants of the fire, the many still bodies of the soldiers and the vague figures of those on watch. One of the many bodies was not so still though, the lone woman, Genine, was tossing and turning. She sat up suddenly, with a gasp, her hand falling to the sword that lay beside her.

She seemed to come to then, looking around and realizing she wasn’t where she’d thought she was. She shifted so she was sitting cross legged and stared into the remnants of the fire. He watched her until she seemed to notice and looked back, her eyes roaming over the arrayed bodies of sleeping men until she found him, his back against a rock.

“Bad dreams?” he asked, his voice low enough for her to hear but not to wake the others.

“Sort of.” She replied, turning back to look into the embers. “Just seeing things I’d rather not.”

“Well,” Ag said, shifting to grab his waterskin. “You’re in good company on that end.”

She was silent for a bit but he could see her arm moving to grab something beneath her jacket. “What is that?” He asked, never one for subtlety.

She froze, her head twitching back briefly to look at him. “What’s what?”

“The thing you’re always holding, like you can’t bear the thought of losing it. I’m guessing it's a memento of some kind from before. I’ve got one though it's a bit bigger than yours.” She looked back at him again and he hefted his long handled weapon. “It was my da’s not that he used it much but every man is supposed to forge his own and since my da married my mum and made himself part of the clan he had to make his.”

He ran his hand along the well worn leather of the handle, the many trinkets he’d attached to it snaking along his leg down to the ground. He’d maintained it as well as he knew how and made sure it was sharp and well oiled and the leather was replaced when needed but it still felt like it wasn’t his to keep.

“Did you make one?”

His gaze flicked from the weapon to her then back. “No. I was meant to by the end of the year but, well, that didn’t end up happening.”

She shuffled to the side and beckoned him over. He sighed, not really wanting to move, but did so anyway. As he made his way over she prodded the embers, coaxing some light out of them and threw on a few twigs they had lying around. By the faint light he could make out what she was holding, a medallion of some sort, or perhaps a large coin.

The chunk of silver was covered in intricate carvings, on one side a great tree surrounded by animals of all sorts, on the other a strange swirling pattern. “What is it?”

“It’s my husband’s, his keeper medallion.” She flipped it back and forth, to tree then swirl then back again. “He gave it to me when he left our home as a token so I’d know he’d come back. I’ve yet to see him again.”

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Ag considered that a moment. “You’re looking for him. That’s why you joined the company.”

She nodded in answer and clutched the medallion to her chest. “He’s out here, somewhere, I just need to find the right place to look.”

“Well what’s he look like?” Ag asked, leaning back. “Who knows, maybe I’ve seen him wandering around out here.”

“He’s Skirita.”

Ag froze, wondering if she was serious. Skirita were a race of very nearly human people but they differed from man in a few ways. Most males had two bone ridges running from their foreheads to the base of their skulls while the women had only one row in the center. Their skin was scaled, mostly small scales that were almost indistinguishable from skin unless you looked close but some had thicker armored plates on their chests and backs as well as legs and arms on occasion.

“Can’t say that I have seen him then.” Ag said and stood. “I’d also suggest you keep that to yourself.”

She nodded and he thought he saw tears fighting to fall. He felt bad for her, Skirita weren’t well liked in the south or west. They and the humans had bad blood and more than a few wars had been fought between them. After the plague swept through, animosity brewed further as some blamed the Skirita for spreading it. Ag had never found that to be very plausible but some people just needed someone to blame.

He settled back down in his spot but knew he wouldn’t be doing much sleeping. He wished he hadn’t asked about her memento, he didn’t much like knowing secrets as it meant keeping them. He kept his own and dealing with other peoples just made life more complicated than he wanted. “Just get through the job.” He muttered to himself. “Then you can forget all about it.”

__________

The troop was up and ready by early sunrise, the clouds were still present but the drizzling rain had stopped at least for the moment, giving them some small respite. Their breakfast was brief and they were on their horses and riding before the sun had cleared the horizon. It was a silent company that day, they were nearing the areas where more people had once lived, areas that had once been farms appeared along with signs of burned or abandoned houses.

Ag plucked at the strings of his lute as they rode, the silence agitating him. He tuned it quickly, the strings falling into harmony one after the other. Esker twisted in his saddle to look at him, a smile on his face.

“Ah, a musician, I don’t suppose you know how to sing as well?”

Ag finished his tuning before looking up at the other man. “I’m no bard.” He said. “I can give you a tune but I’m afraid my voice leaves quite a bit to be desired. If he hears me play Torvund usually provides the singing voice.”

“Ah shame.” Esker sighed. “I remember the last time I rode through here before it all ended. I heard the most beautiful song in a teahouse of all places.”

“I didn’t know anyone sang in teahouses.” Ag muttered. “Though, now that I think of it, I didn’t know there were such things as teahouses. Was it just a tavern but without the ale?”

Esker smiled and looked out ahead as Ag began a simple tune. “Aye, that’s the basics of it. A holdover from when the south ruled these areas. They had teahouses, wineries, all sorts of things they preferred over ale and mead.”

“Sounds like a lot less fun but I wager they had a lot less damage from fights in a teahouse.”

“Oh most certainly.” Esker laughed. “No drunken brawls in sight. Instead they substituted it for many who had a fondness for intellectual debate or at least thought they were smart enough to take part in it. Still no brawls but the arguments they had in those places. Questions of religion, governance, science, anything and everything were discussed there to the point you might have thought it was a university from the empire.”

“What’s a university?” Ag asked. Strangely, he was learning more of the south from Esker than he had from his own da. It wasn’t all that surprising, his da had never wanted to talk about life there, he never knew if it was bad memories or a longing for his home.

“A university is like a school just very large and dedicated to understanding more than most men ever care to think about. A place of peace and quiet where so many went to learn.” Esker sounded almost wistful as he talked about it, his gaze wandering without seeing as his mind wandered.

“Did you go to one?”

“For a short time.” He murmured. “But it was a wonderful time.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Eskers eyes snapped back to reality at the question and he glanced back at Ag, a somber expression on his face. “I found another calling I guess you could say.”

Ag knew he wouldn’t get more out of him so he let the conversation fall and concentrated on his music. He became so engrossed in playing his lute that he nearly missed the group stopping. With a quick tug of the reins he narrowly avoided ramming his horse into Torvund’s. He looked past the man to see what had stopped them and realized why they’d stopped.

The land fell away before them, revealing their path more clearly. The land was flat before rising again as they neared the mountains. There was a clear gap in the wall of peaks which they intended to make for but between them and that was the ruined husk of a rather decently sized town.

“Vuillais.” Torvund said. “Two days of riding and here we are. Now’s the time to decide, do we go through it or around.”

It was a simple enough question but what to do was a little harder to figure out. Within the town could be a lurking swarm of stone skin that had been lying dormant since they’d sacked the town. Ag had seen it before, Swarms devouring a large enough settlement then finding a place to sleep for months or even years. If they went around there seemed a good chance company of a more human nature would be waiting for them. Vuillais nestled close to the mountains on one side while the other had a dense forest of pines, a not too bad hiding spot for an ambush on any that wanted to avoid the town.

“I’d rather go through than around.” Ag said. “I’d wager the chances of a swarm still being there are pretty slim compared to the chances of an ambush.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Torvund replied, scratching his chin. “Spread the word, we go through. I want everyone to be as quiet as they can be. No talking, no loose equipment.” The rest nodded and moved off to do as they were told before starting down the slope towards the dead town.