Chapter 23 - Pillar

Kalin paced back in forth in his tent. His eyes stung from a lack of sleep. The sun was finally starting to rise. It marked the ninth morning since the forest woman had awoken. Meredith still forbade any soldiers from entering. He understood. The woman lost her way of life from an outsider invasion. Armored soldiers would feel out of place.

But his impatience grew with each passing day. He had questions that needed answering. The physic reported all of her conversations to him, which there were little of. Nothing more than small talk. The woman —whose name Meredith had reported to be Sar'tara— was simply doing her best to better understand her surroundings. She asked questions regarding weather and food and clothes. Spoke little of who she was and what had happened to her.

The tent flap flung aside. A young soldier came in. His dark cropped hair was glazed with morning dew. Kalin thought his face familiar. "Your Grace," he began with a fist to his chest, his oversized cloak touching the ground. "Empire parties have been spotted hovering around the Cinder River's edge. The smoke from the forest's remains is also clearing out."

"You're a scout?" Kalin questioned, seeing the lack of archery equipment on the man. He hardly looked into his late teens.

"No, Your Grace. A graduate from the second class of riding recruits this year. I've been positioned as a scout here."

"There's no such thing as a formal class of scouts. If you can ride hard and shoot well, you're primed for the position. Where's your bow and quiver?"

"Never learned. But I ranked at the top of my class when it came to lances and swords."

Kalin crossed his arms. Never learned? Every soldier needed to at least have a modicum of knowledge on all forms of weaponry. Recruit curriculum would need to be modified. "Name?"

"Faren, sir. I am near eighteen. A hundred-man unit leader."

Kalin's brow rose. A unit leader at that age was a rather extraordinary accomplishment. It was no wonder the face was familiar. Kalin knew the faces of all his officers, though putting names to them was often lost on him. "Take your unit and harry their scouts. Do not engage further than necessary. The enemy leader is cunning. Simply keep watch and report any abnormalities."

Faren nodded and saluted again before leaving. Kalin paced around some more. With the smoke cleared, an investigation party could be sent. He wanted to inspect the ashes himself. It was more than frustrating for an entire forest belonging to Xenaria to have been burnt down by a foreign nation with little to be done in retaliation. The Astral Union was too large a beast to provoke —especially with Tarmia seeking an opportunity to invade.

Kalin could only imagine what the forest woman felt after losing her home. He decided to visit her. She had a right to attend the investigation party. She couldn't lay cooped up in a tent forever. He stepped out into the open air. The cold hit him like a bucket of ice water. He wore nothing but a royal blue shirt and trousers, albeit the shirt had frills at the end with bright yellow laces sewn into them. It was expensive and made him easily recognizable to his men. He refused to rub his arms and maintained his disaffected image as he made his way through the dark of the early morning camp, night duty guards following him. A slight guilty conscience gnawed at him for having the men stand outside during the long cold. But they were well trained and rotated shifts every few hours. Kalin waved them away, knowing they would still follow even if it was from a distance.

Meredith was just coming out of Sar'tara's tent with a wide beam. It disappeared when she spotted him. She bunched up her skirt and bowed. "Y-your Grace. You're awake early."

"Out with it. What are you hiding?"

"I-nothing! The girl is still afraid. I—"

"Don’t think I should be here?" Kalin finished.

"No! I wouldn't dare presume where you should and shouldn't be," she stammered. "The girl's wounds have already closed. She heals quicker than any I've treated. But her heart remains wounded."

"If she's healed, all the better." He brushed past the physic towards the tent. Meredith cried out and briefly grasped at the ends of his shirt. Kalin paused and tilted his head ever so slightly, his narrowed eyes asking a question and making a command at the same time. Meredith let go of his shirt and grumbled an apology. He threw aside the tent flap and ducked inside and she followed.

Sar'tara, her hands occupied with a cup of water, widened her eyes. She kicked with her legs and scrambled to the far end of the tent at the sight of him. The cup left her fingers and flew towards Kalin. It barely missed him, though, its contents splashed along the side of his face.

The edges of his mouth twitched. She was a foreigner, unaware of Xenarian customs. Unaware of his standing. But Kalin Serene had never experienced such disrespect since inheriting his title. Even in her fear, he could see the lingering pride behind her eyes. A pride that had been hurt by missing the thrown cup. The smallest of smiles spread along his lips as he looked at the woman. It had been a long time since the corners of his mouth had curled, slight as it was. She was wearing the same clothes she'd been found in. A deerskin pelt strapped around her breasts and her waist covered with a leather skirt that hardly reached the tops of her knees. He crossed his arms, wondering if she would at all introduce herself.

***

Sar'tara swallowed, eyes fixed upon the man standing before her. She was told that she was in a military encampment and not a city. She had poked her head out of the tent a few times, long after the sun had set. She couldn't muster the courage to step out. At all times, armored men roamed the encampment and she was without weapon.

Meredith cried out and ran towards her. "Your Grace, she meant no offense!" the caretaker pleaded, wrapping a sheet around Sar'tara.

The man idly waved his hand. Sar'tara figured her clothing was immodest by plains dweller standards long ago, given the way Meredith dressed herself. But she had nothing else to wear. She looked back at the man standing by the hut's entrance. She recognized his brown eyes and trimmed beard to belong to the same person she'd seen when she had first awakened. She remembered the way his gaze had pierced through her then. Had seen her vulnerability. An air of intimidation surrounded him. Sar'tara opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out. She grabbed fistfuls of her blankets, despising herself for being so afraid of a person when she had never feared wild beasts.

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But animals weren't intelligent. Animals were primal. They weren't capable of committing massacres. They weren't capable of burning entire forests down. Humans were capable of this. All the more reason to fear them.

"Your Grace, she is still—" Meredith began, but her lips snapped shut as he held up a hand.

He had authority, Sar'tara figured. Mere gestures were enough to silence his inferiors. Was he the one in charge then? Meredith had said that he had nothing to do with the attacks on the forest. If not him, then who, she thought, teeth clenching. Who was it that had burned her home?

Sar'tara tried speaking again. "H-hello." She ground her teeth behind closed lips. Why had she stuttered? The man looked her in the eye. She wanted to crawl even further back. His gaze was stern and calm. He was studying her, she realized. Just as a huntress studies her prey. Studies its structure and measures its capabilities. He was looking at her as if she were an enemy.

"Hello indeed. We met under unfortunate circumstances last time. I am Kalin Serene, duke of Xenaria."

Sar'tara nodded. All familiar terms thanks to Meredith, though of their meaning, Sar'tara wasn't certain. She remained silent, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. He was waiting for her to respond.

"And you are…?" he finally asked.

"Sar'tara Vashiri. D-daughter of Ny'Danis, the Forest Deity." She looked down, biting her bottom lip. Half of her wanted to be held by her Mother's arms while the other half hoped Ny'Danis had died during the invasion.

Kalin nodded. "Deity," he echoed. He closed the distance between them and sat down cross legged before her not one foot away. She squirmed uncomfortably, her back touching the cloth wall of the hut. She felt the sting of cold coming from a gap underneath.

"Your Grace! Should you need a chair, I can—"

"Meredith, please leave us," Kalin said, waving his hand again.

Meredith looked to Sar'tara who slowly shook her head, her expression screaming a silent plea. She felt as if they'd grown close in the last few days. Meredith was kind and caring just as Freya had been. But she had no power. She turned away and left, leaving the weaponless Sar'tara alone. All authority in the room belonged to the man named Kalin. He was unarmed as well. But could she really win against those Kreivan like muscles without the aid of arrows and poison if he decided to attack her?

"How is your back?" he asked.

She flinched, not expecting such a well-meaning question. "Better… Your Grace?"

Kalin shook his head. "There is no need for you to address me as such. You aren't familiar with me, and neither I, with you. For now, we are equals."

Sar'tara nodded. Equals. "My weapons…" she began. The man had an eyebrow raised. She thought she overstepped. Of course they wouldn't give her weapons.

"You had none. There was but an empty quiver strapped to your back when we found you."

"Oh."

"You are afraid of me. Why?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Sar'tara realized that she'd been avoiding eye contact. "You're a soldier. And… They killed my sisters. Burned my home." She was surprised by the growing vehemence in her voice as images of burning trees surfaced in her mind. "They came wearing iron. They had iron swords and spears and bolt firing bows. The soldiers here have the same things."

"A reasonable conclusion," Kalin said. "Do you know for what purpose you were attacked?"

"I want to know who attacked!" Sar'tara said, glaring. Fear became a withered thing in her sudden anger.

"Do you believe that it was us?" Kalin asked, carrying on calmly.

"I— You have iron armor. But Meredith said…" Sar'tara looked down at her hands. Could she believe Meredith just because she was kind? Ny'Danis had been kind also and… "Mother had things," she softly said after a while. She blinked back her tears. Her anger died as suddenly as it'd arrived, loneliness replacing the void left by its departure. Did she have another choice than to trust these people in whose hands her fate rested? "Artifacts that you plains dwellers want. That you've wanted for centuries. That you coveted enough to burn our home. Will you deny that?"

Kalin shook his head.

Sar'tara's heart sank. Was everyone outside the forest driven by greed?

"I have no desire for power," Kalin said. "I have enough of it already. But as a person in power, it weighs on my mind when my neighbors gain objects of magic. They will no doubt attack us if they're confident of winning."

"Like the Kreiva?" Sar'tara asked. The man tilted his head questioningly. "The Kreiva were a separate tribe of the Vashiri. They were taller than us and their bodies more powerful. They attacked my tribe once because they thought us weak. We won against them."

"So you understand what war is at least. What happened afterwards?"

"We reconciled and had a feast. We are all daughters of the Forest Deity. All siblings." Sar'tara wondered if there were any Kreivan survivors. If anyone had the strength to fight against the enemy, it would have been them. But their numbers compared to the invaders were so few. Her chest ached further. The Selharr had been left with fewer. She began doubting whether Stel'Na had managed to save herself, let alone anyone else.

"I see," Kalin said. He scratched at his beard. "Do you know what sort of Artifacts your Mother had?"

Her eyes narrowed. "So you do want them…"

"Need more than want. Though, I'll settle for information instead."

"I don't," Sar'tara admitted. He examined her expression for a while, as if doubting her words. She rubbed her arms, looking away. Kalin didn’t press the issue.

"Whether you believe my next words or not, I will leave up to you," he began. "The people that attacked your home are known as the Astral Union. Truth be told, the Papillion Forest is within the borders of the Xenarian nation, within my Household's demesne. Thus, its protection falls upon my shoulders. I was enraged when the Union attacked. Perhaps not as much as you have a right to be, but I set out to retaliate. We did what we could but were too late to stop the fires. The Union's actions is enough for us to declare war, though that right is reserved for the crown, not me. We also admittedly do not have the strength to challenge the Union as it stands." Kalin sighed. "We haven't caught wind of any other survivors. They went in as thieves, but they were also thorough enough to kill your people down to the last. They wanted you dead for whatever reason."

"Are you saying they will hunt me down?" Sar'tara asked.

"They may, should they learn that you live. Which they likely will. Every nation has its network of spies. We will be going to the forest for an investigation. Or what remains of it anyhow. Will you accompany us?"

Sar'tara tried thinking for a moment. No other survivors. That had to be a lie. Or a mistake. Her sisters were skilled hunters. They would be hiding somewhere, perhaps trying to make sense of their situation just as she was. But hiding where? In a ruined forest? Sar'tara nodded, wiping the edges of her eyes. She needed to see everything. She needed to confirm that all of her sisters were truly gone. Kalin stood up and held a hand out to her. Sar'tara hesitated, staring at the hard and callused lines on his palm. She swallowed a jagged stone of fear and grasped his hand with her own. It was unexpectedly warm.

"Your forest was under my jurisdiction. I owe you an apology, Sar'tara," Kalin said as he pulled her up. "You may well be the last of your kind. I promise to defend you to the best of my ability."

The last Vashiri. She didn't want to think about it. Prayed it wasn't so. Even a Kreivan sister being alive would be all she needed. Even her Mother…

Sar'tara's fingers clutched Kalin's hand tight. There was nothing but sincerity in his brown eyes. In that moment, everything intimidating about him fell away. Sar'tara felt a warmth come from the conviction of his words. An invisible barrier surrounded her. She wanted someone to trust. Wanted to rid herself of the feelings of loneliness. She was still afraid, but much less so. Kalin felt like a pillar she could lean on. But her last pillar, her own Mother, turned out to be a murderer. And Kalin was unrelated to her. He was a plains dweller. An outsider. One of the people she'd been taught to be wary of all her life.

"Thank you," she whispered, eyes at her feet. She could only hope he turned out to be as kind as he seemed.