A Clash of Shadows (11 page)

The Clan’s matters had never been fully aired but it seemed they hadn’t been satisfied with amassing power merely through property, commerce and military strength. They had delved deeper and those individuals and families who stood in their way were struck with sickness, madness, miscarriages and endless misfortune.

The Clan had played a large part in Farnar’s occupation and stories of the night the Roses were brought down in the uprising were shocking. There had been terrible vindictiveness in the mob that hit the manor.

It was a different and much calmer mass of people that surrounded the manor this time. The chancellor’s mercenaries had constructed a crude palisade around it and then camped on all sides. There was considerable empty space between the tents and the palisade.  Clearly no-one wanted to be too close to the place. Given the state of Bytna the wooden wall didn’t seem up for slowing the monster down.

“This is like a small siege,” she whispered.

The men were equipped for war and had driven long stakes into the ground. The tips pointed towards the manor as if they were expecting a cavalry charge.

She tried to estimate the number of men. If they guarded the manor day and night some of them had to sleep in the day. The tents surely housed over two hundred men.

“Does this suffice to bring down such a demon?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” Serdra said. “If they have the nerves for the task and are prepared when it appears. But I would rather not rely on that. Then there is the question of how long they will maintain this while nothing happens.” The woman was briefly silent. “Can you see a good way into the manor?”

Katja went over the property but her eyes would always wander towards the manor.

There was evil in this building. Serdra didn’t need to say it out loud. Katja felt it as clearly as she felt the rays of the sun. There the demon had vanished.

Had it been a coincidence? Had the demon chased a victim all this way, or had something about the location attracted it?

“No,” she admitted.

Men stood at guard on every side and all the lanterns had to provide great illumination in the night. It would be very dangerous to sneak across the garden and climb the palisade. And difficult to get back out if they had to battle the demon and the noise got every spear in the camp pointed at the manor.

“Neither can I.” Serdra lowered her head and began to climb down. “Come.”

Katja followed her and they slid back in amidst the trees.

“It is dormant,” Serdra said. “Between worlds.”

“Do you think it will return?” Katja asked.

“I would say it is all but certain,” her mentor said.

“When.”

“Tomorrow,” Serdra said. “Or in five years. It is impossible to be sure. And the longer it slumbers there the more the Divide between worlds will weaken and increase the risk of another tragedy later on. That is why we must do something.”

“Help strengthen the palisade?”

Serdra fell silent. Not due to irritation. She was contemplating the situation and Katja let her do so in peace. She could tell by her eyes when the woman returned.

“Well,” Katja said and leaned against a convenient tree. “What do you have in mind?”

“It’s no secret that the Rose Clan was wealthy and possessed treasures. Farnar’s thieves must have snuck in there through the years.”

“They have never had to sneak through that camp. Or the palisade.”

“The Rose Clan isn’t entirely extinct, Katja. I suspect it is due to few people being dumb enough to spend vast amounts on such a home and then neglect digging an escape tunnel.”

“Ah... but surely every valuable has long since been taken,” Katja stated with doubt in her voice. “Since it has stood empty for so long.”

“Probably. But it may be possible to find those who ventured inside. Besides, desperate thieves are always willing to hope that their colleagues weren’t thorough enough. I would be surprised if people don’t still tell tales of a hidden treasure room.”

Katja was at a loss for words for a few breaths.

“Are you planning to seek out scum for aid?”

“How clean do you intend to keep your conscience throughout this whole thing?”

Katja hesitated again.

“Do you... do you want a number or something?”

Katja felt she saw something unfamiliar in her mentor’s demeanour. The woman came closer and for a moment Katja expected a test-attack.

“This life demands many things,” Serdra said in her low, focused teaching voice and stared into her eyes. “Our role is to defend the world itself. What does the state of our conscience matter compared to the fate of mankind?” She used that rigid, piercing gaze Katja could never break free of. “Which would you say overshadows the other?”

Katja couldn’t answer and was greatly relieved when Serdra looked away and they continued walking.

“Shouldn’t we try chatting with them?” she asked after a short while and pointed towards the manor.

“It might very well arouse suspicion, since we are not sent by anyone. Best to reserve such information gathering as a last resort.”

They gathered the horses and circled past Bytna.

Squeezing into the woods the demon had come out of was quite a chore, but it was best not to be spotted by the remaining locals. Anything to avoid attention.

Eventually they found an unremarkable dirt road that didn’t seem to see much use. From there their path led south. They both felt it. The demon had left tracks mortals could not sense except perhaps as an unexplained shiver.

This was an ugly matter
, Katja thought as they approached the spot.
Terribly ugly.

They stopped by a small mound.

This was the spot. The surroundings bore the marks of violence. Bushes and branches were broken and she could even see recent damage to a thick trunk. And all that was just spice. A little addition to the evidence, noted by her human mind. Her
other
mind felt everything she needed in the air.

The horse felt uneasy beneath her, so she dismounted and tethered him to a bush.

The ground itself was battered. Torn up, by something larger and more powerful than human feet. Katja walked to the damaged trunk and touched the wound. It was in head-height, but considerably larger than her own head. Whatever had inflicted this damage had burst the wood like a clump of wet sand.

Was this something similar to the enormous demon Tovar Savaren had summoned in the Nest? The one who would probably have torn her apart if Serdra hadn’t been present?

Katja moved her fist around in the hole. The tree seemed unlikely to survive.

She had improved since the battle in the Nest, but was it sufficient? Was she ready to stand against such a foe?

She suddenly noticed that Serdra stood next to her. She hadn’t been aware of the woman dismounting and tethering her horse.

“Shall we begin?” she said. It wasn’t really a question.

“Yup.”

Katja arranged herself on the spot that somehow felt like the centre of all this and sat down with her legs crossed. Serdra sat down opposite her. Evidently she was going to examine this as well.

Katja gathered her strength. She knew this would be bad. Evil and unnatural sorcery, horror and multiple deaths were not a good combination.

She felt the need for antics and attitude leave her and looked her mentor earnestly in the face.

“Serdra? When will I get used to this?” she asked.

“That... I cannot teach you,” Serdra said. “It will depend on your outlook.”

It took her a few moments to realize that Serdra had in fact transferred responsibility for something over to Katja. The feeling was strange.

“Very well,” she whispered to herself and Serdra and let herself sink into the past.

The spell... the demon... overshadowed everything else, but she still saw the ambush. She saw the man waiting on the road for a terrible enemy who had to be destroyed quickly and decisively. She saw bushes stir from the movements of those who waited in hiding with drawn weapons. She saw the sacrifice.

“They killed a boy,” she said out loud at some point in the future, after the blood and corpses were gone.

The demon quickened into the world of men. An awesome terror with a flaming head and teeth and claws with no purpose other than ripping and tearing.

And as soon as the monster turned on those who had dared summon it the new arrivals withdrew from the battle.

Men scattered away from the demon, north and south along the road. The demon caught one of the Brotherhood men and lifted him into the air. The man managed a short scream as his arm was torn off, but his head then vanished into the monster’s maw. The torso flew into the thicket, smashing branches in its path.

The ambushers shouted orders no one heard for the noise and tried to tame the monster with sorcery they were in no state to command.

The demon headed for the one most determined to bring it under control. The man turned and flew into the thicket. The demon passed a man on its way and forced its way into the forest after its prey. Towards Bytna.

The rest scattered. Brotherhood men ran south along the road and the strangers ran into the western forest, away from the demon.

Another roar resounded through the night and the only things remaining were torn corpses and the wound in the world the spell had inflicted.

Katja tore herself away from the event when the men fled eleven days ago.

She sighed and rubbed her temples. This had been unpleasant.

She looked at the sun to remind herself that it was daytime and tried to remember the details of the vision.

She had made out a few faces in the little moonlight of that night. The one who had summoned the demon, a short, stocky, blond man, had staggered away with a deep cut on his chest.

Leifur
. That had been the name another man had shouted when he got hurt.

The leader of the arrivals, the one who had inflicted the injury, had been swarthy and long-faced, with a broken nose, a chiselled body and a strangely sharp gaze. Those were probably the most important faces to recall.

“Well...” Katja said. “What do you think?”

“Not much,” Serdra said carefully. “Not yet.”

“Who were those men?” Katja said and pointed north, from where the professional had come. “They weren’t startled by suddenly having a demon thrown at them. Almost as if they were expecting it.”

Serdra was silent for a few moments.

“The Brotherhood is most present around the Inner Sea, but there are lesser covens here and there,” she then said. “This could have been some inner conflict. They have also had other enemies through the ages. Most prominently the Night Hand.”

Katja felt a shiver. The Night Hand. The living servants of the Death Lords. The very monsters mankind had feared for centuries. The connection alone was unsettling.

“What could they be doing here?”

“They could be on an assassination mission to weaken their enemies a bit. Or want to retaliate for some trouble the local coven has caused for them up north. Or simply wish to do some spying. There are many possibilities. These two malignant forces have been foes for a long time. There is only one earth to dominate, after all.”

“And the Brotherhood would perhaps not have lost the war for Vendyha if they hadn’t been battered from fighting the Death Lords,” Katja said to air her history knowledge a bit.

“In the middle of the Fourth War, yes,” Serdra said.

“Yes.”

Katja felt silent and mulled over things. She had been hoping for something more concrete.

“So we need to find a way into the manor. But what else can we do? These men could be anywhere by now.”

“One of the Brotherhood men was badly wounded but alive. He should have survived, but will have needed medicine. And the city is the only place nearby where proper doctors can be found. Especially without drawing attention. A doctor might be able to tell us more.”

“They could have one among their ranks,” Katja pointed out.

“True. But we have to follow what leads we have. And we have the name ‘Leifur’ to aid us.”

Katja nodded. It was something at least.

Serdra looked north and then south.

“Two forces,” she said with gravity and looked at something other than the forest before her eyes. “Perhaps three if Vajan is not in league with the Farnar coven.” She was briefly silent and then nodded herself.

“Now is a time of caution, little raptor.”

The woman headed off and Katja followed.

Oof
.

10.

The hour was getting late when they arrived back at the city.

The vision continued haunting Katja as the more severe ones always did. Getting accustomed to it was apparently up to her.

The Crescent received them back into its malodorous, quilted bosom, soon replaced with the dangerous enclosure and patrols of the city.

They had decided to start in the city itself and go about asking people about local doctors.

“Are you perhaps going to break my nose so we’ll have a more believable story?” Katja asked in jest.

“That would make your appearance more memorable, so no.”

They rode through the gate and to the market, where Serdra pointed out to Katja to buy a hat to change her appearance a bit.

There turned out to be one true hospital in Farnar City, which doubles as a medical school and they found five private clinics within the wall. They took turns entering the locations while the other one waited outside and observed from a distance. They asked about a cousin of theirs, who had gotten hurt in an embarrassing incident a few days ago and probably not given his name. They wanted to find him and settle the family issues.

Most Katja spoke to were understanding and Katja suspected they suspected some underworld bother. But the description of Leifur’s appearance and wound got them nowhere. In every location they resorted to offer bribes if people could recall something, but it made no difference.

They were heading for the inn when the bells sounded the curfew. The streets were already rather empty and the sky was dark purple. Katja continued closely observing her surroundings as they led the horses. This was the worst time to spy on people without being spotted in turn, but also the best one for an ambush.

The innkeeper was just delighted to see them again and offered soup and watered but sweet wine. They ate in silence in the common room and then went up.

Katja slid the bolt before the door and finally relaxed a bit. She knew the safety offered by a thin wooden door in a stranger’s house was pretty much an illusion, but it was something at least. She couldn’t deny herself a bit of ease.

All their possessions were where they had been and Serdra made sure the window was firmly shut. Finally they undressed.

Katja settled on the bed and prepared for sleep, but her thoughts demanded to be aired. She sat up.

“I have been thinking,” Katja hesitated. “Well, thinking a bit, I am going deeper into it now... about what Vajan could do to kill us.”

“Yes,” Serdra said and turned to her. “And what conclusion have you reached? What would you do in his position?”

Katja thought carefully before answering.

“Look...” she finally said. “He can’t know for sure that I am alone and he doesn’t know you by sight. Only me. And he is the only Brotherhood man who does. If he isn’t alone himself he will still have to take part in either finding me or being on the lookout for me. So I will have a chance to spot him before they try anything.”

“Which could be used for luring you into a trap, or distracting you for a few precious moments.”

Katja nodded. She hadn’t thought of that, but hoped she would have after a bit more contemplation.

“He has to suspect I am here because of the demon event. So,” Katja hesitated again. “So he could try to watch the manor, or something related to that whole matter that we don’t know of yet.”

Serdra was silent.

“All this is assuming that he means to kill me,” Katja said. “He could also just want to stay hidden for now. And then... then we won’t have much to fear, unless we draw attention to ourselves.”

Katja chuckled at herself.

“Did I actually get anywhere with this?” she asked with a half-smile.

“Yes,” Serdra said. “It’s good to be able to place oneself in an enemy’s shoes. And when you keep in mind what he’s likely to do you’ll do better at reacting to it.”

These words made sense. Katja was pleased her ruminations hadn’t been for nothing.

“Now get some sleep.”

--------------------

In the morning they left the horses with the innkeeper’s son and walked north to the square and from there out the gate.

“Well,” Serdra said quietly so no one heard. “We need to find someone who knows a way into the Rose Manor and preferably also someone who treats people without asking questions.”

“We will be quicker if we split up,” Katja said before she could change her mind.

Serdra looked at her.

“True. But have you forgotten our situation?”

“Have you forgotten how much you’ve taught me?” She crossed her arms. “I must
some day
learn to apply it without you hanging over me.”

Serdra’s stare changed and began to pierce as it tended to. Katja steeled herself and fought to stare back.

She is testing my conviction.

“Yes,” the woman finally said. She leaned up to her student.

“Don’t let it get to your head that I left something up to you yesterday,” she said calmly. “And don’t let this get to your head either, but you are precious. Rare and important. Be careful. Our lives belong to mankind, not ourselves.”

With that Serdra grasped her shoulder and turned her around, towards the Crescent’s gaping mouth. Katja hesitated a bit. Serdra patted her on the rump and Katja started onwards.

Am I a horse?
she thought, but refrained from whinnying out loud. Serdra’s jokes were rare enough to catch her by surprise each time.

“I will meet you by the square fountain,” Serdra said and Katja then heard her walk away. She would evidently handle the western part while Katja went east.

So east it was.

People were tending to morning chores. Products were being carried inside the wall, what little was sold in the Crescent was being set up, animals were being tended, those who had jobs were headed to them with tools and those who didn’t seemed to settle for ambling about or sitting beneath the sun.

This wasn’t quite as enchanting as getting to know the city life for the first time. And the smell wasn’t helping.

Where am I supposed to start? It’s the same as in the city; if I go from person to person it might draw attention.

She decided to try zig-zagging north and south along the streets to cover a large area. The plan hit a snag when she realized the lack of streets when one got further away from the city road. The houses were tightly packed together and the ground between them couldn’t be called more than paths.

She made a few attempts to accost people in a hopefully everyday manner but got cool receptions. Those who were busy with something wanted to focus on it and those who weren’t pretended to.

When she mentioned doctors she was told to check the city and when she mentioned other things she usually got a hair-thin excuse for not being able to chat.

One time she came upon a group repairing a house. They used a minimum of words to assert their disinterest in conversation and simply seemed grumpy. She had barely vanished from sight when they took up lively discussions as they worked.

She had gone some distance when she saw a man who seemed to have a rather different attitude.

He sat on a rough stool on an empty space actually wide enough to be considered a street and lazily tended to his mug. He was probably in his forties, with a big face and thick hair upon which brown fought a desperate battle with grey.

“Pardon,” she said and walked up to him. He looked up. “Tell me... how does one find a doctor around here?”

“Around here?” he asked and pointed to the wall. “Or around
here
?” he added and pointed downwards.

Katja cleared her throat and tried to smile affably.

“My friend is hurt.” She stroked a finger along her chest. “An ugly cut. We need someone who can clean and sew and doesn’t charge as much as those in the city.”

“Well that can be a bit like entrusting an egg to a fox,” he said and a smile spread over that wide face. He had some accent she didn’t recognize and spoke slowly in a fashion she usually associated with stupid people.

“Then best not pay foxes up front,” she said. She rather liked the fellow.

“No, perhaps not,” he replied. “But to answer your question we do have a relatively capable man who accepts such tasks.” He pointed to the east. “Go that way until you’re almost north of the old watchtower.” Katja looked along the wall and saw the remains he was referring to. “Then you just need to head to the north-east a bit. There by a dead tree trunk is a house decorated with snake skins. Just knock. Old Anton the Grey is used to receiving people at all hours.”

“Thank you,” she said, but hesitated before heading off. “You are chattier than most others here,” she commented.

“Well, perhaps you haven’t been searching carefully enough,” the man said and took a sip. “But there are no few people here who strain and strain to improve their lot and either don’t have time for other things or allow bitterness into their heart.” He looked towards the morning sun. “People fight and fight to have a better life,” he said. “Kings and farmers alike and forget to enjoy what they do have.”

The man pulled his trouser legs up slightly and Katja saw scars encircling each ankle.

“I have strained enough in my life. Now I settle for having enough to eat and enjoying the things people take for granted.”

Katja smiled and shrugged. There was a certain simple wisdom in this. Assuming he wasn’t just lazy.

The man crossed his legs again with a pained looked and sighed.

“Tell me, before you go,” he said quickly before Katja could take her first step away. “Can you do me a favour and have this filled up north of here?”

He pointed.

“A small pub has been set up in a house nearby. Just tell the owner that I sent you and he’ll pour.”

Katja took the mug. Such a short delay hardly mattered.

“Sure.”

“I appreciate it,” the man said and smiled.

Finding the house was easy. A large wicker shutter stood open on one wall and formed a booth of sorts, displaying drink barrels within. Katja had forgotten to ask the man’s name but the description sufficed for a full mug of decently smelling ale. She stole a sip on her way back to the stool.

She returned the mug and he took a satisfied drink.

“Thank you. I...” The man hesitated and looked around. Katja did likewise but saw no one nearby. “I should tell you that you are being looked for.”

“Oh?” was all Katja could think to say.

“There was a man going around late yesterday afternoon and sought out the kinds of individuals who are particularly bitter and eager to profit, if you get what I am saying. He promised a bounty for you.”

Katja looked about again. The paranoia the run-in with Vajan had left behind suddenly flared up again.

“And is this common knowledge?” she asked.

“Eh, among groups who seek out such information anyway.”

“Are they
capable
?”

The man’s jaw dropped a bit.

“You are not easily frightened,” he then said and was somewhat amused. “But if I understand you correctly, there are some northern veterans here. But the villains of this community mostly survive through fear and ambushes. Straight-up battles are rare. But you are just one young girl. Do be careful.”

Katja again felt the urge to display her sword, but a more important matter occurred to her.

“Wait, you said he put out a bounty. Then he must have arranged a place to deliver it!”

“I suppose so, but I myself wasn’t seeking out such information.” He concentrated on his mug. “And I have already had more to do with this than I meant to.” He smiled at her again. “Now you have a good day. And be careful.”

--------------------

She knocked on the door of the snake house. After a short while she heard grumpy groans from inside and it was opened. The resident was a man around forty, dressed in worn clothes and with bushy grey hair. He seemed to have just gotten up.

“Good day,” he said without much enthusiasm.

“Good day,” Katja responded. She looked around again. “Are you Anton the Grey? Is it true that you sew cuts and splint bones?”

“For money, yes,” he answered. He looked her over. “You look healthy. Are you here on behalf of someone else?”

“In a way, perhaps. Can we talk inside?”

Anon the Grey stepped aside and let her in.

The inside was much like the outside. The furniture had a cobbled-together look, but had been carefully whittled and the place was fairly clean. Not that it reached the standard of cleanliness Katja associated with medical rooms, but one couldn’t ask for everything.

“My cousin is in trouble,” Katja said.

The amateur doctor smiled at that for some reason, but she ventured on.

“Self-inflicted trouble,” she said. “He has fallen in with dangerous people and I know he got hurt almost two weeks back.” She touched her chest. “Here, I am told. The family wants to find him and set things right. Can you help me? He has short, blond hair, a big nose and is clean-shaven. About your height, but stockier.”