Hilda breathed in the air of the Outwalls, the growing heat of the sun giving fresh life to all the muck and shit across the city. The snow had completely disappeared from the roofs, the wood of the homes having gone dry as the bones in the city’s catacombs. All that remained was a thin coating of slush lining the streets, squelching with her every step.
She’d closed the tavern early, hoping to see Lissa before the day’s end. It’d been some time since she’d had a chance to see her with James as occupied as he was with his duties. It left little time for her to escape the daily grind of tavern life. She was looking to hire help, but that was proving difficult in the Outwalls. There was a reason business here kept to the family.
She shook her head, pulling her jacket tighter about herself as a cold gust of wind washed over her. She soon reached the King’s Road and crossed its breadth to the eastern side of the Outwalls where Melna lived.
Around her, weary eyed men and women trudged through the streets, coming off early morning shifts in the foundries, smithing iron and smelting bronze. None who lived beyond the walls were true smiths, but many hands were needed to transport the vast quantities of raw materials, stoke the forges, clean the waste, and manage the inventory. Thankless jobs, but one of the few legal ways to better one’s position in life should one of the smiths take a liking to you and offer an apprenticeship.
She made her way down the winding streets until she came in sight of Melna’s home. The handful of Sons loitering around the area watched her with lazy unconcerned eyes as they basked in the sunlight, its thin warmth taking the edge off the worst of the cold. Hilda walked up the short stoop to the door of the house. Inside, she could hear the muttering of voices. She knocked very lightly. The muttering continued, but the floorboards creaked as somebody crossed the threshold.
A moment later the door opened to reveal Lissa. Her daughter’s face lit up upon seeing her, and Lissa tackled her in a hug, nearly sending her stumbling off the stoop. Hilda smiled as he returned the hug, looking over Lissa’s head to where a dozen hooded figures congregated before the altar, muttering prayers. Melna stood by the altar, blade in hand and accepting their offerings of blood into the altar.
Lissa released her. “People have been in and out all day,” she whispered.
That piqued Hilda’s interest. Her gaze drifted across the figures by the altar. When she looked for it, she could spot the outline of weapons beneath their cloaks. They were likely Marc’s men if they’d been allowed to carry weapons in here. If his soldiers had been in and out all day, that meant something big was coming.
Hilda followed Lissa to the dining table where she pulled out a chair for Hilda. “Take a seat. We’ll only be a moment longer.”
Hilda sat in the proffered chair, watching as Lissa bounded back toward Melna. Lissa had always been confident for a girl her age but seeing her now- it was as if she had blossomed in her short time with Melna. She stood beside the priestess, taking the blade from her hand.
Melna had gestured for one of the men to step forward. “I see you Talbrek,” she said, voice firm with the authority one would expect of the Reaper’s representative.
The man shuffled forward, head bowed and fell to his knees before Melna. He pulled back his hood, revealing a hard face lined with pocked scars. His eyes were those of a killer, dulled as if by having seen too much they’d lost their light.
“Do you freely give of yourself, to our lady?” The priestess asked.
Talbrek looked up meeting Melna’s gaze with one full of fervor. “My life to her and the Rills,” he said.
Hilda fought the urge to roll her eyes. Men could be so dramatic sometimes.
Lissa held out her hand and Talbrek placed his into her palm. The girl took the knife and raised it into the air. She took a deep breath, looking a little nervous. As she spoke, her voice was even. “Our lady is inevitable, watching our every step. Make her proud, Talbrek.”
“By my blood,” he answered.
Lissa nodded firmly, a slight smile spreading across her lips as her eyes drifted up to the tapestry of the Reaper on the wall. “To you, our lady, we give this sacrifice. May you delay your coming.”
Talbrek grimaced as the blade bit into his flesh of his hand, drawing a thin red line. Lissa led him to the altar and pressed his hand to the red hued stone. A red light pulsed across the altar at his touch and the man tensed, jaw clenching as his blood was pulled into the darkening stone.
As Lissa pulled Talbrek’s hand from the altar, he fell back, gasping. One of his comrades caught him and steadied him on his feet. Lissa looked up to the tapestry. Today the Reaper held her pale palms outstretched, a thin smile along her shadowed lips. A fire burned in the distance behind her while the Keeper bristled at her side, seeming ill at ease. The sight sent a chill down Hilda’s spine.
Lissa spoke, “Fear not the dark for our Lady will light your way.”
For some reason her words put Hilda at ease. Perhaps it was the truth in them. Death was only the beginning.
Talbrek was looking up at her daughter with the same reverence men showed to Melna. For a brief moment his eyes shined, and he closed them, bowing his head and muttering a silent prayer under his breath. Hilda had never been more proud.
Melna put a hand on Lissa’s shoulder. “As I showed you,” she whispered.
Lissa nodded and turned to the altar, her eyes settling on the undulating darkness billowing across the stone. She closed her eyes, holding her hands out as the Reaper did in the tapestry.
The darkeness of the altar stilled as if grasped and held in place. All prayers had stopped as every eye drifted to Lissa. The silence was deafening. Hilda felt her heart quicken as she realized her daughter was performing a true ritual.
Lissa exhaled slowly and as she did, the darkness seeped from the altar into the air. The entire house dimmed, light seeming to be sucked from the air itself. The billowing cloud of inky blackness washed over Lissa as it spread toward the kneeling men behind her. The cloud engulfed them.
The sight arose a craving in Hilda that pierced to her very soul, but she refrained from joining them. She had no need of the ritual, and such things could drive a person mad if indulged in. She keenly remembered the bloodshook men and women after the war, reduced to little more than animals as they struggled to sate their dependance.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Grins spread across the men’s lips as they removed their hoods and breathed in deeply of the darkness. It seemed to seep into their flesh, and the cloud quickly dissipated. She watched their eyes as irises and veins went black, making their eyes appear like shattered porcelain. She recalled the thrill of the power running through you, banishing fear, doubt, and pain.
Lissa let her hands fall to her side and as she did, light seemed to return to the room. The girl turned back to face the men. “Go with our Lady’s blessing and know she watches with interest.”
The men rose to their feet and left the building without a word, as if compelled. And they may very well have been. Lissa had just performed very powerful magic. Compulsion was the least of what she could have done to them.
Lissa sagged as the last man left, closing the door behind him. “Good?” she asked, a bright smile spreading across her lips.
“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” Melna said.
“That was amazing,” Hilda agreed.
Melna’s gaze drifted to Hilda for the first time. “Lissa, dear. Would you put a kettle on and make us some tea?”
Lissa nodded and bounded toward the kitchen on the far side of the house. “Be right back,” she called over her shoulder.
Melna watched her go, shaking her head as she walked to the table beside Hilda and took a seat. “Your daughter is remarkable,” she said, settling into her chair with a sigh.
Hilda smiled. “She always had been.”
Melna met her gaze. “It took me a year of study to invoke the Reaper’s blessing when there was an entire clergy to learn from. Your daughter mastered it in a week.”
Hilda’s brow rose in surprise. “How is that possible?”
Melna crossed her hands atop the table, a contemplative look on her face. “I don’t know. Perhaps as fewer people are touched by our Lady, those that she chooses become more powerful,” Melna said.
Hilda was quiet, watching as the old woman looked to the kitchen. There was worry in her eyes. “Should I be concerned?” she whispered.
Melna didn’t answer for a long moment. “Men will seek to use her as they’ve sought to use me,” she said, “As her mother, you need to make sure she understands the power is a gift to her. Your daughter is a good girl with the potential to be a great woman.”
Hilda nodded in understanding. “Between us, I think she’ll be in good hands.”
Melna hesitated before nodding, seeming uncertain. “I’ve few years left before I’ll meet the Reaper in person,” she said, “The Goddess’s blessing has not been kind to my body.”
Hilda frowned, knowing the truth of it. The wrinkled, silver haired woman was only a few years older than herself, her flesh aged by the giving of life to save others both in the war and after. “I’ve heard it said that those touched by the Reaper are too stubborn to die.”
Melna barked a laugh. “There may be some truth to that,” she said, “But I also heard it said that those touched by the Goddess are too dense to stay alive. Where does that leave me?”
“Stubbornly giving your life to others and still refusing to die,” Hilda suggested, “Or perhaps just too dense to take our lady’s proffered hand.”
Melna grinned. “My tutor always told me our lady works in mysterious ways. Mayhaps she’s letting me hang on long enough to see your daughter become what she needs to be.”
Hilda looked to the kitchen where the kettle screeched as it begun to boil atop the stove. The screeching died as Lissa poured the tea. “I know it’s rude to ask, but may I have a moment alone with my daughter?”
Melna gasped in mock offence. “You’d throw an old woman out of her own house?”
“With a smile on my face,” Hilda said, grinning.
Melna snorted. “Fine. Fine. A mother’s prerogative, I suppose. Could use a breath of fresh air myself in any case.” The old woman rose to her feet, snapping her fingers at Kryll.
Hilda haddn’t even noticed the Keeper was there, huddled into a ball of scales in a dark corner of the room. At Melna’s gesture, he uncurled himself and thumped after her, claws digging small furrows into the wooden floor.
Melna opened the door, closing her eyes and breathing in the air as the sunlight and cool wind washed over her. She stepped forward, disappearing from sight, Kryll following in her wake.
As Lissa brewed the tea, Hilda leaned back in her chair, pride still warming her heart. But, despite Melna leaving, she still felt as if she were being watched. Her eyes drifted toward the tapestry of the Reaper once more. It felt as if she were looking right at her, the fire behind her growing closer and fiercer. The sight raised the hairs on the back of Hilda’s neck.
She was distracted as Lissa approached, holding a tray with three clay cups and a matching teapot. “Where’s Melna?” she asked.
Hilda smiled warmly. “She just wanted to get some fresh air with Kryll.”
Lissa nodded absently as she poured tea into the cups and passed one to Hilda. Hilda thanked her and wrapped her hands around the clay, relishing the warmth of the cup on her chilled hands.
“How do you like it here?” she asked.
Lissa brightened at the question as she took a seat at the table. “It’s-” her mouth worked as if trying to find the right word. She laughed. “I can’t even describe how amazing it is. I’ve learned so much.”
Hilda smiled, eyes a little blurred with tears. “Tell me everything,” she said.
Lissa was happy to oblige, and words fell from her lips like a waterfall about all the things she’d done, the people they’d healed, funny noises Kryll made when sleeping, the chores she did, Marc’s periodic visits, and a million other things.
Hilda was happy but it all made her heart ache just a little bit to know her little girl was growing up. It was only a few weeks ago that they were sewing dolls together from old scraps of cloth, laughing about how James had tripped and poured a mug of ale all over himself. She had a feeling there weren’t many of those days left in their future.
As Lissa went on about how Kryll ate, Hilda cut her off. “I love you,” she said.
Lissa paused and smiled. “I love you too, mom.”
Hilda smiled in return. “Sorry. I just had to-”
She was cut off herself as the door of the house opened. She tuned to see James striding through the door. Her smile widened. “James?” she asked.
His face was grim, and her smile faded. “Is everything okay?”
“Good. You’re already here.” James looked over his shoulder as Melna followed him through the door. “The Venarans are coming tomorrow,” he said, “Marc has it on good authority that they’ll be targeting the western Outwalls. But, it’s best that we get you all below ground.
“Phaw,” Melna said as she pushed past him and settled into a seat at the table. “The west is the opposite side of town, and if you think I’m leaving my house then you’ve lost your marbles.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, “Lissa, you’ll need to pack a bag.”
“No,” she said.
James blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback. “No?” he asked.
“I won’t leave Melna alone.,” she said, voice firm.
Melna shook her head. “Kryll will be with me as he’s been the last two decades of this life. I’ll be fine dear.”
Lissa’s face was stern. “If you’ll be fine, then I will too.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” James said, voice raising.
The news was worrying, but James was overreacting as he did every year. The Venarans would come out, break some things, burn down a few places owned by the Sons, and go home as they did every year. Hilda reached out and put a hand on James’ arm. “I’ll stay with her James.”
James was quiet a moment, eyes drifting between the two of them as he realized he didn't have any support in the matter. A long moment passed before he sighed. “Okay. Just be careful tomorrow and stay off the streets.”
He ran a scarred hand through his hair and his gaze drifted to Kryll who was stretching lazily across the floor. He sighed. “I suppose I’ll be leaving you in good claws.”
“What will you be doing tomorrow?” Hilda asked.
James bit his lip before answering, “Marc wants us to bloody them this year. I’ll be setting up ambushes on the west side of town.”
As she was about to respond, he interjected, “One of the safer duties, I assure you.” He smiled, wrinkling the scars across his face. “Besides, the running joke among my men is that I’m just too pretty to die.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Hilda said, smiling as James laughed at his own dumb joke.
She rose to her feet, walked up to him, and kissed him fiercely on the lips. His arms wrapped around her hips, and he lifted her from the ground, swinging her in a circle. As their lips parted, she whispered into his ear. “You had better come home.”
“I’ll always come home to you,” he answered.