The dull buzz of electric lights welcomed Ike back to life.
For a moment Ike was confused. Why bring out electric lamps to the border? The muckrakers only kept torches in stock, and the air was a lot less musty here then it was in the muck. Oh, god, what if the pylon broke and the shaman’s were busy holding the front line now? His mind swirled with uncertainty until he could open his eyes and find some answers.
When he finally did so, well, his original theory seemed a little less far fetched.
Someone had carried him away from the border, he was lying in a soft bed, and the ceilings were tall. The ceilings were stone. A stripe of glittering white lights dotted the ceiling like stars in a dark sky. The hum of an electric buzz filled the air.
He tried to push himself up on the cot and gagged. Like flipping a switch, his entire body lit up brighter than a funeral fire. His bones clicked and his muscles spasmed.
Ike could see a metal bar sitting on his left side and assumed there would be another sitting on his right. He flung out his arm to try and hold himself but there wasn’t anything on his right. Instead, he pressed his hand into something soft and oily. Almost like feathers.
Whatever it was shifted out of his grip and Ike gasped. He pushed himself up and away to get a better look.
To his surprise and relief it wasn’t a giant vulture hovering over his nearly dead body, but a woman in a strange robe. Ike and the stranger met eyes. He struggled to grin in apology and the woman stared back.
The stranger was the spitting image of a living shadow. Wavy black hair, eyes consumed by the pupil, and worst of all a glare that could have cut through stone. She was terrifying in all the best ways.
“Sorry,” Ike muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position on the far left edge of the bed.
“I see you’re awake,” she said, her voice as dark and morose as her thick feather cloak.
Ike could hear the disdain in each word and set out to apologize. “I didn’t really see you. Sorry. Right, ah,” he stuttered, his breath weak and arms shaking underneath him. “I’d get up if I could. Sorry, again.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry.” A look of worry flashed over her face for just a brief moment. “Do you know my name?”
“Not really.”
But I’d like to, is what a smarter man would have said.
“Good. Well, a tad disappointing, but good.” She sighed and held out her hand for him to take. “My name is Nerinai Huntwyck, Raveness of the Carrion Cross and Cadeloch. You’re in our monastery, recovering from the fighting you survived last night.”
She said all of that with the matter-of-fact tone you might use to recite morning orders. It took a few moments for Ike to really grasp what half of that meant, and even then he figured he’d misheard. He held his tongue though.
Ike was not an especially religious man. In Cadeloch it was a difficult part of life to avoid, but it was so ingrained that few people felt the need to really explain it to orphan muckrakers who didn’t have time to attend congregation. The dark robed priests carried the imagery of death everywhere as a sign of defiance to the natural order of the world.
Like crows and vultures, humanity would survive off of the scraps and feed on the corpse of the apocalyptic world around them.
It was all a little too mysterious and grim for Ike’s taste. He preferred to think of god as a friendly fellow in the sky fighting off the worst demons than as a corpse whose burial poisoned the earth.
Whatever his beliefs Cadeloch was the frozen heart of the Carrion Cross. The brunt of the priesthood, the most of the holy land, all because of one religious head. The Raveness. The head of one of the largest remaining global faiths was standing here by his bedside. Hell, she’d personally saved his life.
A smarter man might have dropped to his knees and kissed the floor at her feet to beg for repentance. Instead he narrowed his eyes at her, slightly curious. She looked so, well, normal. Shift out the feather cloak for brown robes, rub some dirt on her face, and Ike wouldn’t have blinked twice at her being a muckraker.
“You saved me?” Ike couldn’t help but ask. “Thanks, but… why?”
One stark eyebrow rose in confusion. “Why did I save you?”
“Yeah.”
“Because… what do you mean why? What sort of idiot asks a question like that?”
“Oh, well,” He swallowed and rushed to explain himself, suddenly flush with embarrassment. “I’m not ungrateful. The opposite, really. I can’t- can’t repay you. I guess that’s why I’m confused, I can’t pay you back for- well, any of this. I traded my last book for a pair of clean socks.” He looked down to his feet. Those very same socks were now threadbare and soaked with dirt.
Nerinai took a chair from the wall and slid it over to sit. Ike watched, expecting a second burst of anger from the Raveness. This was the moment, he figured, when the bill came due.
“I did not save your life simply to rob you of filthy socks, muckraker.” She bit the corner of her lip, judging her next words with that same look of worry. “This was my mistake. You- hm. There ought to have been a shaman nearby to keep the pylon secure and only I was available.”
That was horseshit. Ike said nothing to belittle her point, but there had never been a shaman close to the pylon. Muckrakers were a dozen a dime, and a second brigade would be sent down if the first failed. Shamans only came when things got very bad and they were never as high in rank as the Raveness herself.
Ike wasn’t sure what to say then. Word's had been his greatest weakness since he was a brat shoveling corpses off the border. Finding the right words, or oftentimes any words, was as easy as finding the afterlife with your heart still beating.
Nerinai had her eyes turned to the ground. They were shut, but her mouth was moving. Quick and almost hidden by the stream of black hair, but he noticed it.
“So…” He let his vision drift up to the arched rafters, hoping to change topic. “This is the monastery, then? Nice place.”
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“This is the infirmary, yes.”
“Nice. Pylon still standing?”
“Yes, of course. I arrived just before the enemy could tear it down. None of your compatriots survived, though. My apologies.”
“I figured.” He cleared his throat and choked down his grief. Muckrakers died all the time, he should’ve been more ready for it.
He tried to distract himself by running his fingers through his hair and pulled out a chunk of dirt. By instinct he tossed it on the ground, suddenly becoming very aware that he was a stain on this place.
“I should probably get back,” he said, and tried to stand. Ike made it a solid one step before nearly collapsing.
In a second she was at his side, as if his heart wasn’t beating fast enough.
“Stay, please. I didn’t save your life for you to run out and waste it.” She swallowed, then continued. “If you like, I could offer you a position in the monastery. Away from the muckrakers. Permanently. You should not have been there, you should have…” She broke off, but the intensity in her eyes made him wonder how desperate they were for new monks.
Ike looked down and noticed her right palm. On it was a dark black runic circle, the sign of a shaman. He’d seen their handiwork in person only a few times. That symbol would reflect the shaman’s needs followed by some kind of black liquid sweating out of their skin.
There were more important things to busy himself with, but knowing she could twist his insides into ash with a flick of the wrist set him on edge.
Her eyes followed him and she tucked the palm under her cloak. “Well?” she asked.
Ike’s answer was cut off by the squeal of the door rocketing open at the end of the hall. Both of them turned their attention to the band of monks and priests in their dour black robes, led at the front by a burly man who looked half bear. He plastered a big, sloppy smile on his face as he approached.
“The magnanimous muckraker has woken! My dear, my dear, why wasn’t I called upon?” The question he directed to Nerinai. The burly fellow bowed deeply to her while she turned to Ike with that same pained expression from before.
“Don’t accept his proposition.”
“Huh?” Ike was so thoroughly confused by whatever was happening that he couldn’t have agreed if he wanted to.
The giant priest towered over them. Now that he was closer, Ike tensed. This man didn’t look anything like a monk. His face wasn’t that of a kindly priest who sat in alcoves and meditated over the nature of his patrons perfection or held a vow of silence on the tallest mountain for several years. Ike didn’t know much about the monastery, but he was pretty sure monks didn’t have gnarly old scars and a flat nose from brawling. He looked to Nerinai, so far the only person he could minutely trust, and saw her apprehension was buried underneath a cold smile.
“My lady,” the warrior said, “Have you discussed the opportunity of guardianship with our esteemed guest? I understand it’s short notice but this is too perfect an opportunity to ignore.”
“I’m aware. And no, I haven’t had the chance.” She snapped back with the bitterness of a stepped on snake.
Ike wished his body wasn’t hurting so much he couldn’t stand. He very desperately wanted to get up and demand answers. Make a dramatic show of his confusion and wave around his arms until somebody told him something that made sense.
What came out was, “What?”, half whispered.
The burly man looked at him and smiled. Smiled deep and wide.
“My apologies, good man. I am Grandmaster Thyien. I serve as right hand to the Raveness in matters of the faith and the monastery, as well as security. Not that she needs it, of course!” He bowed slightly to her at that, some humor sliding off with licks of laughter. “Now may I ask your name?”
“Ike.” Cursed name. Peasants name. A man once told him he was named after an odd sneeze, and as far as he knew that man was right.
“Muckraker Ike! Wonderful. I am certain the lady has filled you in on the certain tragedy of your mission defending the pylon. Truly a story for the ages. According to the lady, you held off a pair of demons single handedly. Your shovel was still rooted into the chest of one, in fact. Incredible!”
Ike screwed up his face in confusion. He looked to Nerinai for confirmation, but she was firmly staring at the pale stone of the floor. Maybe he’d forgotten what happened already. He remembered stabbing one, but it definitely wasn’t alone.
Regardless of his confusion the Grandmaster seemed hell-bent on making it worse. “May you lift up your shirt for me?”
“Sorry?”
“Your shirt. Lift it up, just enough to see your right side.” He reasserted. Ike got the feeling he didn’t exactly like repeating himself.
Ike looked over to Nerinai again. She nodded to him with a totally straight face. Too straight.
Ike obliged, even though underneath the stained shirt he smelled like death. He lifted it up and showed off the right side of his body, his copper tone skin marked with patches of dirt, sweat, and blood.
The monk’s eyes, and those of the Raveness, all turned to the scar above his waistline. Ike blushed and turned his attention to the wall. The scar was spiral shaped. Ike knew nothing about its origins or cause, but he’d had it for as long as he could remember. Most called it a curse, a mark of bad birth.
His wandering eyes laid on Nerinai, who was staring at the scar. Ike immediately dropped his shirt back down and smoothed it out.
Thyien nodded slowly. “Yes… Tell me, muckraker Ike: how much do you know of the scar?”
“Not much.”
“Of course, of course, why would you?” A grin slipped back onto his face as if it had never gone. “Let me tell you a bit of a story-”
“Watch your words, Grandmaster,” Nerinai threatened. Ike looked between the two of them, but a simple wave from Thyien seemed to alleviate whatever concerns she had.
“This spiral signifies a special birth, friend. Certainly a very rare, er, type of blood that runs through your veins. The scar itself is something that none of the many scientists who have studied the phenomenon were able to decipher, but the result was certainly uncanny. You are a special one, Ike.”
Ike’s gaze glazed over. Scientists and special blood. All of it was starting to sound a little bit like merchants offering the cure to mortality for just thirty silver on the street corner.
He seemed to be waiting for something.
“Uh… so?”
“So, I’d like to offer you a position.” The man didn’t miss a beat. Twice in under an hour Ike had been presented with more opportunities than he had seen in a lifetime. “You are a fit warrior, familiar with the evils of the blight and already well versed in battling. The scar at your side shows me that you’ve also a peculiar bloodline. Both are attributes I have been searching for, personally, for many years. You see, according to tradition, the Raveness is always accompanied by a Guardian. An honorable position, appointed to those who follow their shamans to the Black Palace and aid in the lady’s rite of passage.”
Ike took a heavy breath. He didn’t really understand where all of this was going, but in the end, any life would be better than being a muckraker. He looked up at the electric lights again, then down at the comfortable infirmary cot, and made his decision.
“Ok.”
“You’ll do it?”
“I will.”
Nerinai stepped between them and turned a cold glare onto Ike. “Are you kidding me?”
“My lady, he’s agreed-”
“You have no idea what you’re even deciding. This, you don’t, there’s so much….” With an aggravated groan, Nerinai pushed through the group of monks with tempestuous fury. Ike watched her leave the room and wondered what choice he should have made.
The Grandmaster was unfazed. “Training will begin as soon as your bones aren’t clicking, understand? We have,” he turned to a monk with a clean shaven head who whispered something into his ear. “Ah. Two weeks. Better hope for a speedy recovery.”
Ike drank the information in as sluggishly as everything else that morning. Training? What for? And now, apparently he was supposed to be a guardian for one of the most powerful shamans in the world. Picturing himself next to her waving around his battered shovel was almost ridiculous enough to make him laugh. Nobody else was laughing, in fact they took this as seriously as a funeral.
“Did I piss her off?”
“Oh don’t worry boy. It’s an issue older than you, and completely out of your control. Worry about getting your rest and look forward to what comes next!” He left in the shuffle of black robes, leaving Ike in the sanitized silence of the infirmary to think, and rest.