V. PROMISES

  Eth hummed old drinking songs of Rhode as he sat cradling a half empty bottle of black rum. The rum was imported from the tropical islands off the coast of Eurithania. It was strongly spiced, and packed quite a bite. He made a mental note to visit one day, when this whole mess was over. He didn’t expect to remember it however.

  Outside, lightning flashed across the dry, frozen sky. It had been nearly a month since the sun cast its impotent gaze upon the city of Marquez. Odd seeing as the rest of the continent would soon be approaching spring. He wondered if he’d ever feel the sun's warmth again, not that it mattered. The sun would never rise upon the nation of Rhode again; he had come to accept that fate. Hence, he drank in dark solitude.

  His chambers were large and in relatively good order, save a bed recently occupied by a restless soul. The furnishings and suites of the palace were indeed nice, but they were not his own. His home in Rhode, the home of his ancestors was long gone and buried. He glanced up as the dying embers of the fire popped one last time. He needed more wood but didn’t have the energy or desire to get up, fortunately the palace boiler was running and it kept a decent climate throughout.

  He looked down to the bottle with his one (and only) bleary eye, then up to the stark blackness outside his window. He moved the bottle up to his mouth and took a long mechanical drink, unfazed by the draughts potency. The doors opened behind him without as much as a knock, casting a sliver of hallway light across the room before slowly closing again. He didn’t even turn his head as he raised the bottle to his lips again.

  “We missed you at dinner Eth.” Clarissa said in her normal superior tones though failing to mask her concern.

  Eth snorted in response, and rolled his shoulders several times, his tattoos danced and rippled across his muscular back. Clarissa huffed and crossed her bare arms over her chest as she tapped her foot impatiently for effect. Eth took a deep drink from the bottle, wiping his mouth with an exaggerated sound of enjoyment.

  “Light Eth it’s freezing in ‘ere.” Clarissa shuddered and rubbed her bare arms. “And you still don’t wear a shirt? Stubborn mule.”

  Eth ignored her and took another swig. Clarissa hiked up her gown, a shapely piece in subdued colors that hung off her left shoulder, and stormed across the room towards the sullen elf. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she haughtily advanced on Eth, only to slow as it became obvious that he wasn’t going to react. She came to a stop and placed her hands upon her hips as Eth took another drink.

  “So, you ignore me dzen, is dzat it?” She was more upset now that Eth remained silent. “And why are you drinking?”

  Eth took another drink, the bottle nearly empty now. “Seemed pruden’, wha’re ya askin’ fer?” He slurred, his breath thick with spice.

  “Don’t give me dzat Eth.” She asked her voice soft and sincere. “What’s wrong?”

  She reached out to touch his shoulder and Eth scooted away, dragging the ottoman he used as a stool. “Ge’ off it.”

  “Eth…”

  “Wha’s wron’ is ye keep bloo’y botha-rin mah, now ge’ tha hell oot!”

  Clarissa clutched her hand to her chest, unsure of whether she should acquiesce or not. “You’re ‘urt…”

  “I’m fine.” Eth growled.

  “Don’t shut me out!” Clarissa’s voice trembled with emotion as she stamped her foot against the floor.

  Eth turned to face her. “Ge’ oot girl.”

  Clarissa took a seat next to Eth, and rested her head on his back as she slowly massaged his shoulders. He grumbled and swore under his breath, but made room for her nonetheless. Clarissa continued to massage in silence, sniffling occasionally from the cold rather than tears. Eth sighed and raised his body heat output.

  “Ye daen’t listen worth a damn do ya lass?” He growled.

  “Not at all.” She sang softly in response, her hands glowed gently as she lifted away his tensions with the power of The Dawn and hummed an old folk tune.

  “Why’re ye ‘ere?” Eth asked drowsily.

  Clarissa was silent for several moments before answering. “When I first met you, I ‘ad no one. I’d been left for dead and when I needed a friend zee most… You held me, gave me a shoulder to cry on, and promised to look out for me. And you’ve kept your word.”

  “Now yer ‘ome in yer own element. Ye daen’ need me anymore. Go, go back tae yer par’ies an’ wha’not. An’ leave bloo’y well ‘nough alone.”

  “I didn’t answer your first question.” She persisted.

  “Then answer it and ge’ oot! Shit!”

  Clarissa didn’t flinch at his outburst, only continued to massage. “You don’t frighten me Eth, I know you too well.” Clarissa cut Eth off as he was about to retort. “Because. Because you were dzere for me when I needed you, and I will always be dzere for you. Always. Ready to listen when you are willing to talk, ready to mend when you come broken or ‘urt.”

  “…An’ yer ‘man’ ‘s alrig’ with tha’?”

  Clarissa laughed aloud. “My man will ‘ave to understand. I will be ‘ere, always.”

  Eth snorted incredulously. “Big words, but mah kind live longer than ye lot.”

  “Then my children shall carry on in my place. And should you live for a thousand years, all who bear my blood shall serve zee ‘ouse of Earl Eth de Silverhand.”

  “Foolish girl,” Eth snorted, “yer no servant o’ mine.”

  “Then what am I then?” She asked dreamily, enraptured by the rhythms of his breaths and beating heart.

  “What d’ya wanna ‘ear?” Eth asked, hastily changing the subject.

  “What do you want to tell me?”

  Eth looked at the bottle, and contemplated another drink but ultimately decided against it, and set it down on the floor. He rubbed his eye and leaned forward to stare into the bleakness outside his window. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. He sighed, having a harder time than expected. Clarissa kicked off her heels and snuggled against him to share in his considerable body heat.

  “Ye didn’ know Kielan all tha’ well…” Eth said as more of a statement than a question.

  “I knew enough to form a positive opinion.” She shot back.

  Eth chuckled, loosening up a little. “Well ay knew ‘im since primary. Ay dinae ‘ave any siblings, so ‘e an ‘is were ma brother’s an’ sister.” Eth laughed again. “Tha’s pro’ly why it took me so long to realize ay actually loved Io.”

  “True blue sweethearts I take it.”

  Eth nodded. “Aye. Ne’er did love a woman as much as ay did ‘er. Nor will ay e’er.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Several moments of silence hung between them as Clarissa massaged with pale, glowing hands. “What about Órfhlaith?” She asked a bit mischievously, breaking the silence.

  “What about ‘er?” Eth snorted, thwarting her hopes of a scandal.

  “You know…”

  “We were an item fer about twenty years or so, naethin’ serious. She was destined fer the council, an’ I wanted nothin’ ta do wi’h politics. Hell, before we got toge’her that bitch, pardons,”

  Clarissa giggled. “Excused.”

  “Anyway, she’d always sic ‘er kin on me o’er petty rivalries and insignificant bullshite. Seein’ as Kielan an’ me was always together and par’ o’ tha same clan, he’d ‘ave ta kick off too. He’s tha one tha’ told me tha witch did that shit on purpose to get ta me. He’s also tha one tha’ made me get o’er ma ji’ers an’ talk ta ‘er. Tha Bastard. Rhode carry ‘is flame.

  “And Io?”

  “After Órfhlaith joined the council, she wen’ on to become Judge Magistrate o’ inner Rhode by tha way, I lived tha single life fer awhile. By the time ay realized ay was smitten wi’h Io and she wi’h me, she had already been sent to tha temple.” Eth chuckled at the memories that began to surface. “Kielan was livid when we eloped. He forgave me though. Eventually. Somewhat…”

  “How long were you together?”

  Eth paused to think for a moment. “Around eighty years. Newlyweds really.”

  Clarissa giggled, then began laughing uncontrollably.

  “Wha’s so funny then?” Eth barked.

  “You, old man!” She laughed. “Eighty years is a bloody long time; most humans couldn’t be married dzat long unless dzey were wed at birth!”

  “Oh.”

  Clarissa stopped massaging as the silence that followed lingered. She wrapped her arms around his abdomen in an embrace, still glowing slightly. They remained this way for several moments, the only sounds between them were their own breaths and the howling wind outside. A group of chattering chambermaids passed outside the door and the boiler pipes groaned in the distance. Clarissa shifted, burying her face between his shoulder blades.

  “Why do you keep this weight on your heart?”

  “Because it’s mine, not yers.”

  “But it is mine!” Clarissa exclaimed, tears spilled from her eyes and streaked her makeup. “When I see you like dzis…I want to be dzere for you as you were dzere for me. If it weren’t for you in Eefrit…I don’t know where I’d be.”

  “If I’d ah known tha’ I’d ah ne’er o’ dun it!”

  “Liar.” Clarissa sniffled.

  Eth mistook the noise as a sign that she was cold, and launched a ball of flame into the fireplace. He swore and did it twice more before it caught on the remnants of the logs.

  “Should I leave dzen?” Clarissa asked after several moments of silence.

  Eth held her hand in his, squeezing gently. “This is more than I could ‘ave e’er hoped fer. Jus’ stay like this, here, fer a lil’ while at least…”

  Clarissa squeezed and closed her eyes again, her tears ran down her face and his back. “Of course.”

* * *

  The sunrise pierced the lingering darkness, splashing the sky with pinks and violets. The rising star did little to nothing to abate the biting cold however. Fiora stood atop the grey stone ruins of some ancient city, her back sheltered from the cold by the ancient Wraith Wood. She clutched a steaming mug of coffee and shivered from cold and the weight of command. The camp had been built in the lee of some ruins, great stone walls of long ago felled towers and elevated roadways brought down by time and war. Anything of worth or artistic value had been destroyed centuries ago in the Scouring. Some had been plundered for private collections or sold to the highest bidder, but all that remained now were old rotted husks. Fiora herself had seen several of these artifacts on display, despite the possession of such pieces being supposedly illegal.

  Fiora closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the world must have looked like back then, but all she perceived were the mounds of rubble and the piercing cold. She took a drink, savoring the brief warmth that filled her mouth. Below the hunters were returning with their kills of the week. They were fortunate to find several deer, but lately the men had been bringing in creatures more and more, suspect. Their supplies were dwindling and she shouldn’t complain, but the idea of eating those creatures that roamed her homeland was disconcerting.

  Rowena emerged silently from the forest, startling Fiora with a gentle touch on the shoulder. “My apologies Major.”

  Her smile and tone betrayed any attempt at dismissing it as an accident. “Why’re you in the forest?” Fiora replied a bit angrier than usual as she shook the spilled coffee from her hand.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve made my camp just beyond the tree line.” Rowena gestured towards her camp. “I’ve lived in a forest my entire life, I am not as comfortable in open fields as you and yours may be.” She added in response to Fiora’s perplexed expression.

  Fiora looked to the forest, from this vantage it looked like any other wooded area. The trees around the outskirts were younger and the area airier than the other regions just a few meters further in. Even before the rise of the Dusk creatures, that wood was dreary and foreboding, few if any went in that forest for any reason. She shuddered as she recalled her own hellish experiences in that cursed forest the summer past.

  “So long as you stay close, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Rowena folded her arms over her chest, and bit her lip in a somewhat provocative manner. Fiora felt herself blushing, but could do nothing about it. The two women had been playing a flirtatious game lately, each one pushing the envelope slightly further each time. The only problem was that Fiora couldn’t be sure if it was merely a game anymore, or if she even wanted it to be.

  “Now Major, is that purely from a professional view point? I wouldn’t wish to receive any special treatment.”

  Fiora couldn’t help but smile in response. “Of course not.”

  The woman was a bit of a mystery. When around men she played the role of innocence, but in the presence of Fiora she was anything but. That fact had only recently dawned upon her, though the reasons and intentions still eluded her. Fiora turned back to the rising sun, as Bloomsun neared, the snow in this region of Sorn was fading; though the northern half would still be locked in winter's grasp. Patches of snow lingered on the flattened, dead grass that would make the Lárione plains when the rains came and the sun's gaze packed heat. It would likely be another month or two before they melted completely, then the waist high grass would be like a sea of green in the breeze. She prayed she would live to see it.

  “You know major; the legal team you’ve assembled has already reached their verdict.”

  Fiora snorted and took another sip of coffee before responding. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Even if his trial wasn’t to be held for another couple of hours, no other options except execution had even been posited in the camp. His length of confinement certainly didn’t correlate with the length of his ‘trial’ though. It was inevitable; there was no way a Xanavien officer could get a fair shake in Sorn. Least of all now, after all that had transpired till.

  “I foresee…un-pleasantries.”

  Fiora chuckled. “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

  Rowena took a more somber tone as she stared down at the camp. “Indeed, his men didn’t particularly care for the verdict, or the process.”

  “What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let him walk?”

  Now it was Rowena’s turn to laugh. “I wasn’t criticizing you Major.”

  “I was hoping this could end somewhat peaceably, even if a man was to be executed.” Fiora sighed. “How do I keep this from blowing up further?”

  “You mean prevent a riot or mutiny?” Fiora nodded gravely in response. “Absolutely nothing. When did you schedule the execution by the way?”

  “Noon.”

  “How theatric of you.”

  “I did my best; I just want this whole mess over.”

  Fiora had tried to be as fair as possible, allowing the trial to be conducted and presided over by members of The Order and students of Asketill. She did not count on those from The Order knowing the tale of Osric’s treatment of the Priestess on Therion. Despite this, all she did was sign the death warrant, she didn’t try and find him guilty. Besides that, her hands were tied as a commander. Her justifications and logic would mean little to the Xanavien’s when noon came however.

  Rowena turned to her and pouted. “I don’t much care for that face, Major, do you need a hug?”

  “I think I’ll be fine.” Fiora laughed aloud, her tone was teasing, though it came off as tempting.

  Whatever the case it took all Fiora had to resist the offer. In fact, she wanted to take Rowena back to her secluded tent, but quickly dismissed such thoughts. There were bigger issues, such as what to do once Arkona was executed. There was no way she could bring his men to heel, not now. She doubted if even Maleah could. Her impression was that Maleah was generally well received, though not taken seriously. She had no one to blame but herself; at least that was Fiora’s opinion. None of that changed her current predicament however. She found herself hoping for a riot and or mutiny, just to get it over with and kill the suspense. She didn’t look forward to the tensions and distrust that would tear her camp apart should they choose to remain, or bide their time. The whole situation was fucked; there was no other way to put it.

  “Sergeant Gunther says not to worry.”

  Again Fiora noted a hint of mischief in Rowena’s tone. She wanted to ask what she meant by not to worry, and whether they were truly his words or not. But before her, camp was waking and working. Rowena left with a flirtatious wave, heading down to join the other soldiers. Seven or so hours remained until all hell broke loose. Fiora finished her lukewarm coffee and went down after her.