The Eternal City, Part 11

Nessa’s estimate was right. The rain hit them about an hour after sundown, and she and Kira made themselves at home under the last wagon. They weren’t offered the space, Nessa simply told the driver they were moving in. This obviously didn’t sit well with him, but the fight with the trolls was still fresh in everyone’s memory, so the begrudging hospitality they had shown previously was quite a bit more polite now.

The wagons were large, anyway, and there was plenty of room. In fact, the driver, the crossbowman and one of the other riders huddled at one end, and Nessa and Kira at the other. There was still enough room between them that, with the noise of the rain, each group could talk amongst themselves without the other hearing.

At first, Kira was fascinated by everyone else’s clamor to get out of the rain. She had always enjoyed the rain on her face, and quite happily welcomed the showers that fell through the trees as refreshing. Soon, though, as the rain went on, and got harder and harder, she began to understand. The storms which swept the plain were little akin to those that came to the forest. And if there had been something like this, the canopy would have mitigated it somewhat.

As the storm went on, however, she began to find the sound of the wind and the falling water soothing. Even the sudden lightning flashes and accompanying thunder didn’t trouble her.

“Kira,” a voice she didn’t recognize spoke gently. “Kira.”

She was standing in the rain, at the top of a little hill. The plain spread out around her, and the camp with the wagons and horses and the other people was a few hundred feet away. Standing next to her was a woman of medium height, clad in a simple dress of indeterminate color. She was plump, friendly-looking, and beaming at Kira. Her eyes were golden, and glowing in the darkness.

Seeing the girl’s confusion, the woman said, “Don’t be alarmed. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She smiled so sweetly, Kira couldn’t imagine this woman hurting anyone. Besides, Kira was the one with the sword strapped to her side, not her.

“Who are you?” Kira asked.

“Well,” the woman seemed to be considering how to answer. “I am sometimes called the Gray Lady, in these lands. On the other side of the mountains over there,” she vaguely gestured to the east, “they just call me rain. But, they are simpler folk, there.” She said this last with an air of confidentiality, as if saying something she shouldn’t, but indicating that it was probably true, nonetheless.

For the first time, Kira noticed little voices raised in giggles all around her. She looked down and saw a myriad little creatures, all like tiny little women, spread out around her. They were everywhere, and they danced and giggled and played. Some were tiny, like ants, and she could barely tell they were there, others were closer to the size of mice, but none were bigger than that.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” the Gray Lady said. “Those are just my Little Ladies. They are my helpers. They don’t last long, but they have fun while they do.” She smiled.

“Ok, now,” she went on. “I need you to listen, because I won’t be here much longer. OK?”

“OK,” Kira said, still bewildered.

“First, I want to tell you, my Little Ladies say that your friend, the big green one, ah… Hero, is alright, and he will heal up just fine.”

The Gray Lady smiled at the pleased look on Kira’s face. Then her demeanor changed. She became very serious and stepped closer to Kira.

“Now,” she began. “This second thing I must tell you is very important. You must listen carefully, because your life and the life of the one you travel with could depend on it. It is already well-known to all of us that you must travel to see the Sword Goddess. It is the purpose of the Maidens to protect you, and that cannot be done properly until you see the Sword Goddess, and, more importantly, she sees you.

“However, it does not end there,” the rain around them seemed to lessen suddenly, and there were fewer of the Little Ladies about. “I’ll have to hurry,” the Gray Lady said looking about her. “I can’t stay much longer.

“You must also travel to the Floating Ruins. You can ask the Maiden about them. But, you must go there and see the Keeper of the Record. If you do not,” she said, quickly, overriding Kira’s attempt to interrupt, “there may very well be a war. I cannot expect you to understand what that means. There hasn’t been a war in… oh, such a very long time. But, this war would almost certainly destroy the life on this world. That is, in fact, the goal of some who wish this war to come.”

At that, the Gray Lady began to fade with the passing storm. “None can force you to do this. You remain a free person. The decision must be yours. Just know what comes if you choose not to act.”

With that, she faded away completely, along with the last of the Little Ladies. Kira found herself alone on the plain.

She awoke underneath the wagon, soaked to the bone, as the sun rose over the plain. The sky was clear, and the air was chilly. Nessa, who was completely dry along with everyone else under the wagon, regarded her curiously.

The Eternal City, Part 10

As they rode the next day, keeping to the top of a low rise to the right of the caravan, Nessa asked Kira, “Have you always had trouble with trolls?”

“No,” Kira answered. “I’d never seen one before the fight in the forest.”

“It worries me they didn’t seem to care much for the horses,” Nessa said. “Usually, trolls want to carry off the biggest target. Probably because they would provide the most food.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “It’s strange that they both went for you, as if I were of no consequence. Trolls are stupid, of course. But, they wouldn’t ignore a threat like me. They know what a sword is, generally.

“There is something more going on here,” Nessa continued. “My Goddess might not be the only one of her kind looking for you.”

Kira didn’t like the sound of that.

“Who else might be looking for me?” she asked.

“Legend says the Night Spirit rules trolls,” Nessa replied. “Trolls are, mostly, creatures of the night. Odd, though, that the creatures sent against you are Black Trolls, as they are the only trolls who move about in the daylight.”

They didn’t speak for some time after. Kira spent her time watching the land around, searching for signs of another attack. She examined patches of ground that didn’t quite match those around them; she watched shadows, twitched at every change in the breeze. Monster felt her nervousness, and became restless, as well.

Together, they began to get on Nessa’s nerves, and she rode ahead of them so she could think. The land around them was beginning a long, almost imperceptible slope toward the little valley carved by the Northflow River. Otherwise the land was little changed, still various shades of brown draped over a slightly rolling plain. The wind was out of the south in this season, so it was warm, and mostly gentle.

That breeze was picking up, however, and far off on the horizon, on the other side of the caravan, Nessa could see darkness gathering. A storm was coming up from the distant sea, and it looked to be a big one. She could see the occasional flash of lightning in the gray mass, and the smell of rain was in her nose. She guessed that the rain would reach them that night.

The Eternal City, Part 9

That night, sensing the farmsteaders’ unease at having strangers at their fires, Kira and Nessa made their own fire a short distance from the wagons. There they ate their share of the stew the steaders had cooked. Nessa also continued Kira’s instruction in combat, going over moves learned the day before, and teaching her more. Nessa was surprised at how quickly the girl learned.

They passed a peaceful night under the stars, each traveler taking his or her turn at watch, and were underway again before sunup. This day, Kira rode her own horse, but stayed close to Nessa. She named the horse Monster, because that is what he looked like to her when he occasionally bared his teeth. By the end of the day, they were friends, and neither was nervous around the other. According to Nessa, this was important. You needed to be able to trust your mount.

Sunset brought a halt to the journey, once again. The two of them were taking their position a little way away from the others, and Kira was working on lighting the fire. Suddenly, a huge form burst from the ground nearby, scattering their horses.

It was a troll, huge and black. It went straight for Kira, ignoring the other form already crouching to retaliate. Kira stumbled back, groping for her weapon. By the time her weapon was out, Nessa had made a deep slash in the monster’s side, drawing its attention away.

Kira’s mind went blank at that moment. She saw the creature turn toward Nessa, and she lifted her blade, burying it to the hilt in the monster’s ribcage. Its arm swung back, weakly batting Kira aside, then it fell to the ground unmoving.

It was then that Kira realized the battle wasn’t over. Nessa was trading swipes with another of the beasts. Kira worked to pull her sword from the troll, but it was stuck. All she could do was watch Nessa.

The Sword Maiden dodged, slashed and pirouetted about the troll, frustrating it at every turn. She seemed to be waiting for something. Perhaps she was letting it wear itself out, or maybe she was struggling to get in through its superior reach. Whatever the case, Nessa finally chose her moment, going in underneath an overreaching slash, and gutting the monster. She spun around and with her next swipe took off the monster’s head.

Stunned, Kira could only stare at the Sword Maiden. She had never seen such a thing as what had just happened. And she desperately wanted to learn how to do it herself.

During the course of the combat, the steaders had stood aloof, merely watching it unfold. It was over quickly, but not so quickly the crossbowmen could not have done some good, and Nessa pulled Stanold aside and let him know this in very certain terms. Stanold went away from the exchange a much paler red than usual.

Kira’s lesson that night was how not to get her sword stuck in her adversary.

The Eternal City, Part 8

“The tall ones are called Seraphs,” Nessa explained as they neared the farmstead. The ones like you and me are Humans, and the short ones are Dwarrows. These are the three most common peoples you will find around here.”

As she spoke she pointed out different forms working in the fields surrounding them. They followed the same path the workers took to reach the fields, and they were headed for the walled compound where their homes were located.

“There are many other kinds of people in the world, and you will see a great number of them when we reach Pass-by, and probably before,” Nessa continued. “In fact, it should be close to time for the Steadmeet, at Gate Island. They come from all over for that.”

As Nessa spoke, Kira looked all around her. She had only ventured as far as the edges of farmsteads. She was further from the forest than she had ever been. Looking back over her shoulder, she could see the trees getting smaller. She was leading Nessa’s horse, and could barely see over its backside, leaving only the tops of the trees in her view.

She stopped and stepped away from the horse. She regarded her home from a distance for the first time. Leaving the forest had never entered her mind before yesterday. In fact, she had rarely given any thought to the future, simply living day to day in the easy company of Hero. She had never felt she needed anything else.

“Kira?”

She turned to find Nessa regarding her curiously. “Thinking of going back?”

“Saying goodbye,” Kira replied.

“It is not so easy,” Nessa said. “Leaving your home for the first time can be… difficult. When I was chosen for the Sword Goddess, I didn’t want to go. But, I soon found another home at the Fortress.”

“There is no other home for me,” Kira said, more to herself than to Nessa.

The gate of the compound was open, and they were greeted by a Seraph who was the farm’s blacksmith. His smoke-stained face had a wicked scar running from his forehead to his upper lip, across his right eye socket. He wore a patch over that eye. His name was Belin.

Belin had the authority to bargain with travelers and traders in the name of the stead, which he called Bellows Howe. He very proudly showed off the huge bellows that breathed life into the fire at the center of the vast array of anvils and metalworking equipment. All around the blacksmith’s works, his apprentices labored. Clearly, Belin’s enterprise was the center of the stead, and his personality was the center of life here.

As the sun was beginning to dive below the horizon, Nessa agreed to take a watch on the wall that night in exchange for shoes for her horse, and Kira would wash dishes for her berth.

Belin led the horse away to the shop, leaving Nessa and Kira alone.

“Perhaps this would be a good time for your first lesson in combat,” Nessa said.

“I am ready,” Kira replied. Indeed, she felt an eagerness to learn to kill. The image of the beast that had wounded Hero so badly as to take him from her floated up into her mind, giving her focus, and she learned well.

Nessa handed Kira the shorter of her swords, and they practiced a few elementary moves. To strengthen her arm, Nessa had Kira simply stand for a long time, holding the sword out before her. Some of the smaller children laughed at her until their mothers came to nervously shoo them away.

“They must not like armed strangers among their children,” Nessa said. “Come, let us wash for supper.”

Kira held the sword out to Nessa.

“No,” Nessa said. “That will be yours now. Keep it sharp and near.”

The next morning, Belin led Nessa’s horse back to her, as they prepared to leave.

“You are a warrior and her apprentice,” the Seraph stated. “If it is not intruding, might I ask your destination?”

“It’s no intrusion at all, Belin. We are your guests,” Nessa said. “We are bound for Pass-by, to the chapel of the Sword Goddess.”

“Ah, it is my joy, then, to know a Sword Maiden?”

“I am a Maiden, yes,” Nessa said, not without some pride.

“Would it be out of place then, to offer and to request?” the Seraph said, in the peculiar vernacular of the dealmaker.

“I would listen,” Nessa replied, switching to the bargaining form.

“Beyond the gate, our caravan for Steadmeet awaits,” the Belin said. “It would be my honor if you would condescend to volunteer your services to guard and protect my people and their goods on their way.”

“I would be most happy to accept the wealth of your farmstead for the privilege of guarding your people and their goods,” Nessa replied.

Having stated their agreement to bargain, several minutes of offer and counteroffer ensued, until Belin and Nessa reached agreement. Nessa and Kira would guard the wagons of the farmstead, and they would, in return, have the hospitality of the wagons, and would be given goods to barter on their own at Steadmeet, as well as a horse for Kira to ride.

On that last point, Nessa assured Kira that she would teach her to ride before she could embarrass herself. In the meantime, the new horse would carry Nessa’s armor and other belongings, and they would ride the other horse together.

About an hour later, the little caravan was under way. There were three loaded wagons, each pulled by two horses. Each had a driver and a passenger seated next to him or her with a crossbow. There were three other riders guarding the wagons, all from the stead. Nessa and Kira were the only outsiders.

One rider rode out before the wagons, leading the way, another rode a couple hundred feet to the left of the wagons, and another brought up the rear, while Nessa and Kira guarded the right flank. Occasionally, Nessa would ride a bit further out on their side of the wagons, checking over little rises and such for ambushes. In those moments, they would take a little time to teach Kira to ride, and then catch up.

By the end of the day, when the leader of the wagons, a Dwarrow named Stanold, called a halt for the night, Kira had the fundamentals of horsemanship down. Nessa remarked at what a fast learner she was, but Kira wasn’t sure if that was kindness and encouragement, or truth.

Also, the forest had disappeared behind them. Kira had a moment of panic when she realized this. But, it soon passed, and she calmed herself with the thought that she was learning to kill the beasts that had hurt Hero, and that she would return to the forest one day.

The Eternal City, Part 7

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"Death's Finger"! HA!

A long, low mound overlooked the village of Clover Hill, remnant of some ancient structure. Unfinished, pillar-like stones stood in an oval encircling the top of the mound, their greenish hue contrasting sharply with the predominantly brownish surroundings.

The people of the village avoided the mound, using such epithets for it as “Doom’s Hill”, or “Death’s Finger”. None had been to the top of the mound in generations, heeding weird stories told by the elders of the elders.

This near-institutional trepidation was not entirely manufactured from the collective imagination of the villagers. There was a small grain of history behind the name of “Death’s Finger”, though none living in the village remembered. And just as well, as surely they would abandon their ancestral home, had they known what hid among them.

Within the ring of stones, hidden by weird qualities of his own, and those of the stones, stood an ancient, stooped form. He wore a squat, wide-brimmed hat, and held a black cloak tight about his emaciated form. His irises were golden, his wispy hair, gray and black. A weak beard showed itself patchily across his cheeks.

To his right, contrasting sharply with the brightness of near-noon sun floated a patch of swirling darkness. Within that darkness floated two tiny golden circles, the irises of a kindred being.

“Well?” a hissing voice from within that darkness asked. “Have you felt its death?”

“I have not,” the man answered, his own voice gravelly and weak. “I think you have failed.” His last word was laced with mockery.

The dark form allowed the provocation to pass. “Perhaps my children simply have not found it yet.”

“Ah, yes,” the old man answered. “Your children. I suppose I should mention that I did feel one of them die.”

A small growl seemed to emanate from the patch of darkness. “I suppose you would simply unleash your hordes upon it, risking our exposure!”

“I have subtler ways, also,” the old man answered. “Death comes in many forms.”

“But, few of those forms go unnoticed by the Keeper of the Record. We cannot yet afford an open conflict. You must remain hidden, for now.”

The old man said nothing.

The darkness pressed its advantage: “No, it shall be my children who do this deed, not yours.”

“Then perhaps you should go, and bid them do it right!”

The darkness laughed thinly. “As you say, O mighty King of the Dead. One last thing, though. What of the Sword Goddess. What is her game?”

“Who can know her mind?” the other replied.

“Who, indeed?” the shadow said, and faded away into the wind, leaving the King of the Dead with his thoughts.

He wondered who this little shadow godling was. It was not the Night Spirit, as it claimed to be. He suspected it was simply the collective cunning of the troll races, congealed into a nightmare, and ruling over its unwitting creators. Whatever the case, it was right: there was little the King of the Dead could do, openly. Not without alerting his enemies; and it was not time for that. Not yet.

So, the little troll god would be Death’s tool, for now. Later, it would pay for all the little insults. It would pay, and pay some more.

Below, in the village of Clover Hill, the people felt a momentary chill fall across their spines. Later that night, an infant would die in her crib, and the elders would recall that chill, and look to Death’s Finger.