They had discounted the heroics of the past, mocking the very idea that man can rise from his base nature and, by clinging to virtue, and through the graces of heaven, strive to help and serve fellow man, by way of the word, the sword, or the arts, ennoble himself and others. They had laughed at the idea of elevating themselves and others, and before Elysion fell, the culture of decadence and cynicism meant they were in good company. But sneering at heroes and glorifying filth pales in comparison with the light of heroics and the sublime glory of heavenly things.
***
A Few Months Ago
***
She saw the trouble from across the street.
Skaria wrapped her fur cloak around her armor more, and pulled the hood over her face. A chill wind had arisen, running its way across the dark green-blue sea, stirring up frothy brine the way warhorse hooves drove up a cloud of dust on the battlefield. The wind rushed through the buildings, freezing all it touched, biting at Skaria's exposed cheeks. In most countries, spring meant flowering and blooming, the slow return of warm weather. In Caeldar, it meant that the icy winds nipped instead of bit.
Karik'ar followed her, like her shadow, a small bit of his braid hanging out of the hood. Despite the crowded marketplace, people gave them a wide berth. It was, Skaria suspected, a combination of her venomous gaze and his massive bulk. "Well, hopefully this grindstone is good," Karik'ar said, studying the stone in his hand.
"The last one was about as useful as crusted-up scat, right?" Skaria asked.
"Yep." Karik'ar sighed. "The alchemists of the University can make some novel inventions. I only wish they didn't feel the need to reinvent the wheel with every other invention."
"They probably have some reasoning for it," Skaria said, before someone jostled into her. She glared at them, and the man backed up, stunned. "Stay out of our way," she snarled. The man gave her a look, one part fear, the other part disapproval, and walked past them.
"You know, you're not required to be that rude to everyone you meet," Karik'ar said.
"He should have watched where he was going." She kept going on. "Besides, shouldn't you be more... thuggish and impatient? Isn't that the charade you're playing?"
"When people are around, I pretend to be a dumb savage," he muttered under his breath. "Only when people talk to me, though. Not really a way to show that to everyone here."
"There is, probably," Skaria said. "Presentation and all that."
"Apart from the braid, not really," Karik'ar said. "If I wanted to dress the part, I would be walking around in naught but war paint and a loincloth. And that's not terribly appropriate for this weather." He sighed. "I may have prodigious strength, but muscles are completely useless against the enemy named frostbite."
"I'm sure," Skaria said. She was about to respond with something pithy, but the words died in her mouth as she saw something unfold in the distance. "Great, a scholar has gotten herself in trouble." The woman was backed up against the wall, with a rather suspicious-looking man advancing on her.
"Do I need to act dumb?" Karik'ar asked.
"Just grunt, do what I tell you," Skaria said.
"Just curious about one thing. We Kai'Draen are supposed to be headstrong and proud. Why would I be working for you and listening?"
"I saved your life or some sentimental story like that," Skaria said. "That's the alibi." She reached for her viper blade, but stopped. An armored gauntlet, even in a woman's arm, would still do enough damage if she swung it right. Hopefully, it wouldn't come down to that. Maiming a criminal was still a lot of paperwork, even if Saefel Caeld's self-defense laws would end in her favor. Defending Hasaema from criminals had buried her and the guild under a mountain of forms.
She marched towards the man. "Is there a problem?" Relief flashed through the scholar's blue eyes at the sight of Skaria.
"What do you want?" the man asked. He glared at her. "Unless you want to join in, you might as well leave us alone."
"I'm not going to do that," Skaria said, glaring at him.
"Well then." The man's hand grabbed her collar. "I'll throw you out then, give her and me a little privacy." His breath reeked of alcohol. He was being insistent.
"Throw you out? Great idea!" Skaria knew that he would probably win in a direct clash of strength, so she went the other route. She grabbed his little finger and peeled his grip off of her, bending back the digit and eliciting several gasps of pain from him. "Hey! Get over here!" she called out behind her. That was when the man decided to strike.
"Bad idea," Skaria said, and yanked his hand, held at a painfully awkward angle, father back. He yelped, and his other hand automatically retreated. Now, she felt Karik'ar's looming presence. "He said he was going to throw me away. Give him a taste of his own remedy."
Karik'ar gave a dumb-sounding grunt, grabbed the man by the neck, and lifted him up. The assailant tried to struggle against Karik'ar, with both arms (as Skaria had let go of him), but his limbs were puny compared to Karik'ar's massive forearms. With one thrust of his arm, the Kai'Draen sent the man flying down the alleyway. The man somehow managed to get his feet under him, but he tripped, tumbled onto the ground, and rolled into the side of a building. He got up and scrambled away.
"Well, scholar," Skaria said as the raven-haired woman brushed herself off, and looked at Skaria and Karik'ar with eyes full of thankfulness, "may I suggest that you stay on your campus. You won't always be so lucky as to be rescued by two mercenaries, and much rarer will you find two who won't charge you afterward. Don't push your luck." With that, the two of them turned and disappeared into the sea of the crowd.
The scholar cried out to them, but Skaria heard nothing.
***
There was a knock at the guildhall door.
Skaria was busy sharpening her blade, so everyone gave her a wide berth. Her alchemical steel viper sword had to be sharpened with a special acid, far stronger than the oil she used every day, and she wore gloves any time she used it. Once, when she refused to get up and answer the door, a fellow warrior had hit the bottle out of her hands, to teach her respect, he had said. The burns had rendered the man's hand almost completely useless.
Karik'ar paused his sparring routine, and wiped the sweat off his brow. He set his battle axe down. "I'll get the door," he said to his panting opponent. "We can practice lopping off arms later."
His sparring partner, a massive man named Haljar, nodded. "You use too many horizontal strikes," he said, "for wolf style."
"Oh?" Karik'ar asked.
"Wolf style axe-fighting is for longships. You're going to be cramped, right next to your compatriots, and those wild swings are just as likely to lop off one of your mates' heads. More likely, really," he said. "They're not blocking you."
"From what I've heard of northern berserkers," Skaria said, "I didn't expect there to be this level of martial discipline."
"Well, your average raider wouldn't have this level of training. But I was a... you'd call him a lord. But he was more like a captain, commander, and lord rolled up into one," Haljar said. "I was one of his guard. Those who let the berserker rage control them are a force to be reckoned with, but those who have the strength to control the rage are more highly prized," Haljar said.
"Ah," Skaria said. "What other styles of fighting are there?"
"Well, bear style, with more diagonal swipes," Haljar said, "And raven style."
"What's raven style?" Skaria asked, moving her stone slowly in circles on one end of the blade. Thin curls of smoke drifted up from the grindstone.
"You let the axe fly," Haljar said, his eyes lighting up. "Like this!" With that, he threw the axe.
It spun, end over end, before burying itself in the wooden wall, inches from Karik'ar's face.
He glared at Haljar, before yanking the axe free. "Next time you offer to teach me how to use an axe, inform me that you're going to try and split me open."
"You asked. It wasn't anything my father didn't do to me," Haljar said. "Quick reflexes, boy."
"Boy? I'm twenty-five. Hardly a boy." He had been through too much, Skaria thought, to be called a boy. Caring for her, fighting the Corpus Veritorum... that was not a boy's deeds. She was proud of him.
Proud? What was she, his mother? She was Karik'ar's partner, not his caretaker. Still, he had done well over the past few years.
"You know," Haljar said, "there were some that didn't want you in the guild. Know why?" he said. "There were the berserkers on our longships, yes, but there were also their wives, their Shield-Maids."
"The family that raids together stays together?" Skaria asked wryly.
"Exactly," Haljar said. "These soft Caeldari have too much marital strife, and not enough strength to the bonds of wedlock. Slaying a few soldiers... nothing better for a marriage."
"I doubt the women were right up there with the berserkers," Skaria said.
"No they weren't. But they guarded the ships, and more importantly," Haljar said, "they never were possessed by the berserker rage. It is a warrior's best friend, but it doesn't care to keep him alive. Their mere presence kept that in check."
"How... romantic," Skaria said dryly.
"You're his Shield-Maid," Haljar said. "You know it works."
Skaria set down her sword. "For the last time, Karik'ar and I aren't courting. We're not lovers. We're not... anything!" she snapped a bit loudly. Everyone had stopped and stared at her.
"Skaria! We have a customer!" Karik'ar shouted. He stood in the open door, letting the cold Caeldari winds rush in. Now, he opened the door wider to let the person in.
It was that scholar, the one that the two of them had rescued that day. "Hello," Skaria said, forcing herself to smile. She offered her hand. "Skaria Valente. How can we help?"
"I'd normally shake your hand," the scholar said, "but it appears you have steel-eating acid on it."
"Ah, sorry," Skaria said. She yanked the gloves off after corking the bottle of acid-oil. "I forgot. This is my associate Karik'ar. And you are?"
"My name is Indra Selaine."
"Well, Miss Selaine, how can we help you today?" Karik'ar asked. He offered her a chair, and the scholar sat.
"Well, it would actually be tomorrow." She withdrew a folio. "Are you aware of the... how would I phrase it? Are you aware of the Solstael crisis?"
"Solstael?" Karik'ar asked. "As in Lord Aaeron Solstael, one of the richest and most powerful men in Saefel Caeld?"
"Yes. But more importantly, like Heiress and Lady Kyra Solstael, daughter of Lord Solstael, and recent victim of a kidnapping. The lord offers a very, very generous sum of money for her," Indra said.
"And you want us to find her?" Skaria asked. "No thanks. We're not interested."
"I have notes," Indra said, offering the folio. "I did some research, to try and track them. I cannot narrow their exact location down, but there is detail in there."
The woman was probably some literary scholar, and her idea of research was reading a chivalric romance and analyzing it to death. Karik'ar, who had an odd love for the written word, complained about them over and over. Her idea of research had to be specious at best.
"What did you study?" Karik'ar asked as Skaria opened the folio.
"Alchemy and natural philosophy."
The notes were... overwhelming. The first page was a map of the fishhook-shaped Caelda Peninsula, with several lines denoting different passages through the mountains. "Very...extensive," Skaria said.
"I tracked down several hunters and asked them to indicate the passes they'd use to go south. They all branch out here," Indra said, indicating a section near the northern bend of the upside-down fishhook of the continent, "but reconverge down south." There was something else, though, that Skaria didn't get.
"Why did they not take a ship?"
"My interviews with the city guard indicate that there are two likely perpetrators of this crime. They're either native Caeldaris looking for a ransom, or Ajandi caravan workers. Seeing as no ransom has been delivered within two weeks, I'm thinking Ajandi." Indra smiled. "And Ajandi aren't fond of boats. They kidnap women and throw them in their wagons, as an act of war."
"I see. Still, it's not something that we're likely to take," Skaria said.
"Skaria," Karik'ar said. "Can we talk?"
They got up and stepped over to another table. "You know, I think we should help her," Karik'ar said.
"Look, there's nothing we get out of it," Skaria said. "Her map indicated traveling to Alberion. I don't feel like going there. And besides, the girl's probably dead."
"I don't think so." Karik'ar sighed. "The Ajandi, from what I read, would sooner die themselves then let a captive die. They'd see her death as a military victory for their opposition. Then again, they see pretty much everything as a military operation."
"Look, I don't think this is going to be too good of a job," Skaria said. "I just don't have the same confidence that you do. YOu understand that?"
Karik'ar didn't say anything, and his face was shrouded by shadow, but Skaria knew that posture. "You're giving me that look again, aren't you?" she asked. "You're just going to keep doing that until you annoy me into accepting it." She growled in aggravation. "Fine, fine, have it your way."
She walked back to the table. "Against my better judgment," she said to Indra, "we'll take your job." The scholar's face lit up with excitement. "On one condition."
"And what would that condition be?" Indra asked.
"You're coming with us."
"The notes should be more than sufficient," the scholar said. "I should not be needed to accompany you."
"It's not the notes," Skaria snapped. "It's not about you bossing us around. It's about the principle of the matter. We're getting the reward, and if you want a cut, you're going to have to come along."
"Very well. Allow me a night to pack," Indra said. "Where shall we meet?"
"The pier, at noon." Skaria said. "And don't be late!"
"I will not," the woman said. She rose. "Let's meet there, and if this is all for naught, I will reimburse you." With that, she left.
"Look, this is going to be a waste of time," Skaria said. "That girl, the Solstael brat, she's probably dead."
Karik'ar shook his head. "I don't feel like that's true," he said.
"Feel or not, it's likely." Skaria sighed.
"But if not?" Karik'ar asked.
"If not, then I have to drag two spoiled brats back to Saefel Caeld. Instead of just Indra."
"It beats slaying ghouls, or fighting off gangs. Trust me on this," Karik'ar said. "How hard could it be?"
***
Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with the story! I'm sorry for being late in posting, but I had to move out of my dorm, and every day before was filled up with studying for exams. But, fortunately, I am done with final exams, and by next week, will be done with all schoolwork for my first year! I will be working double-time on finishing Fever Blood, so don't you guys worry!
-Corey.