A Clash of Shadows (2 page)

The restlessness instantly changed into burning excitement.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus and sharpen her perception. She tried to pinpoint the source of the danger and determine its nature further, but with little success. There had been few opportunities to train this ability of hers.

She gave up after a while and sighed.

“Serdra,” she muttered and continued down the slope.

Then she stopped again. Serdra had placed just as much emphasis on sharpening her sensitivity as on teaching her to fight.

Someone lay in hiding ahead, in the thicket.

Oh, well now.

The sword was at her hip as always, but she probably wouldn’t be needing it.

She placed the fishes silently on the ground and changed her grip on the staff. Then she stepped to the side and in among the trees. She had good night vision and her feel of the forest was good enough to get her between two bushes with little sound. Then she merely needed to walk stooped to vanish beneath branches.

You won’t get me so easily,
she thought and felt the excitement the sting had aroused wriggle within her.

After a few steps she saw a person in the thicket ahead. She would have walked right past them if she had been less alert.

Katja hefted the staff with both hands and headed towards the man at greater speed. He heard the rustle, but once he turned around it was too late. He had a staff of his own and tried to wield it, but Katja rose from the thicket and hit him in the forearm. He grunted and lost his weapon and Katja bonked him on the head. He fell and his partner sprang from his own hiding place and struck at her.

She turned around in a flash, parried the staff, and smacked him in the thigh, side and finally the back as he doubled over.

He fell to the ground as well and Katja poked with the staff as if she were stabbing him with a sword.

“Hello Anton, hello Kjartan,” she said in a light and teasing tone. “Couldn’t you sleep either?”

Anton, one of the Shades living on Maron’s homestead, sat up and groaned. He rubbed his head where she’d hit him.

“Your mentor asked us to give you a little test,” he mumbled.

Katja extended the staff to him and helped him up.

“I’ll be sure to thank her for the entertainment.”

“You are a bit of a bitch,” Kjartan said as he lay and clutched his side. But there wasn’t much venom in the words. These last months Katja had gone up against everyone on that homestead who could wield a weapon. Serdra insisted it was important to learn to fight people with different body types.

“Bitches do have fangs,” Katja said with a smile and left them. Winning was fun. “See you.”

She fetched her fishes and continued down towards the homestead, with a spring in her step.

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

Serdra sat on the floor of the room they had to themselves. Her legs were crossed and she stared at a burning candle on a stool with a distant look in her eyes.

Katja placed the staff carefully up against a wall and waited for her mentor to finish. She was engaged in important work.

After a while her mien changed and she returned to the present time and place and looked at Katja.

“Thanks for the excitement up in the slopes,” Katja said by way of greeting.

“Were you making friends?” the woman asked.

“In my special fashion.”

Serdra stretched.

“I am still improving,” Katja said and imitated the movements she’d used earlier.

“Of course. You are still so unhardened.”

Katja smiled sourly. Conversing with her mentor wasn’t easy.

They locked gazes in the candlelight. Katja didn’t need to explain anything about the sting.

“What was that?” she asked in a more serious tone.

“Something breaking free,” Serdra answered. “Something strong.” She closed her eyes for a few breaths, as if to evaluate her own feelings. “But also something more than that, I think. You know precognition is not my speciality, but I still feel this is merely the beginning to something else.”

“A stone that starts a landslide?” Katja asked. “As in Baldur’s Coast?”

“Not necessarily. This felt more like a... symptom, than a cause.”

“So we will be heading off?”

Serdra watched her. Katja had gotten accustomed to the woman’s gaze and could bear it more easily than most, but meeting it was still an effort. It was so intense.

“It felt like this came from the north east,” she then said. “From Farnar. Maron will receive news from there in a few days. Then we will decide our next step.”

“Isn’t that a risky delay?”

“Have you forgotten where we are, Katja?”

No, Katja hadn’t forgotten. Serdra had lifted the rock and shown her what lay beneath the surface of her homeland and its neighbours. She didn’t like it but there was no denying it.

She looked away.

Shades as well as Redcloaks were at great risk in the Inner Sea Lands. Katja had experienced that for herself in the forests of Baldur’s Coast.

She stroked her belly without thinking about it.

“Whatever happens next I have a feeling conflict is coming.
Dangerous
conflict. Death is in the air.”

Serdra blew out the candle.

“Harden yourself,” she said in the dark.

2.

The morning was like most others of the preceding months. Which felt rather odd, after the night’s events.

They rose early and began training. This time they went up into the slope with axes and shields and fought in the morning dusk. Serdra had great faith in swords and knives, but also believed a Redcloak had to be ready for any possible situation. There was no way of knowing what weapons Katja might have to wield in a pinch. Also, in wielding weapons herself she would better understand how to defend against them.

As usual sparring against Serdra was a joke. The woman had fought for more than a century, had learned every killing method in existence and had long since mastered the gifts of the Redcloaks.

She predicted Katja’s attacks before she initiated them and either deflected them deftly or outright prevented them.

But she did need to put more effort into it now than when they first began. And Serdra had admitted that even elders could make mistakes. Some day Serdra would miscalculate or trip. And then Katja
would
be good enough to seize the opportunity. And what a sweet moment that would be.

They stopped once Katja had started sweating and walked back home and into the barn to do strength exercises.

Katja leapt up and grabbed a beam and pulled her chin up above it forty times. Then she hooked her legs on the beam, hung upside down and swung up to strengthen her abdomen. Then she let herself drop and stood on her hands up against a wall and pushed up twenty times. Finally she lay down and did fifty push ups.

Katja sighed with weariness and satisfaction and drank water from a bucket. She had always been strong. Much stronger than people tended to assume. But under Serdra’s tutelage she had improved in that regard as in all others.

She felt herself up a bit, to feel how swollen and stiff the muscles were after the workout.

I love this.

It was strange to go through this daily routine after last night’s events. It felt different somehow. She would most likely need to actually
use
these abilities soon. Her life would depend on them. And it both thrilled and terrified her and made the exercises more interesting than they had been in a long time.

The sun was now rising and so were the people. Men, women and children stepped yawning from the three residential houses and spread about to tend the morning chores. The people passing bid them good day without slowing down. They were as accustomed to this as Katja.

In the end they practised grappling for a little while and then went for breakfast.

The main building was a testament to the age of the homestead. It had been continually added to through the years and walking through it was a bit like counting the rings in a stump. The dining hall was in the second most recent part, and the largest by far.

They were among the last to sit at the long table while Maron’s daughter-in-law arranged the table.

“Hello everyone,” Katja said by greeting to the ones she hadn’t seen yet this morning. She received a clatter of replies and seated herself between a labourer and one of Maron’s grandsons.

Three of Maron’s children still lived on the homestead and most of the other thirty people were their mates and children. The rest were workers who had arrived from elsewhere, from other Shade families.

The Shades occasionally inducted new people into their ranks but did so very carefully. People therefore often married brethren from other counties and lands. Maron’s wife had apparently been from Baldur’s Coast, as were three currently living residents.

Maron himself sat alone at the head of the table. He was a grey-haired old man, with sharp eyes beneath heavy brows and a gruesome scar on his left cheek.

Katja reached for the carafe containing the light wine and bumped her elbow into the grandson, Atli.

“Pardon me,” she said absent-mindedly and he just nodded.

The hall was tightly packed but the mood was amicable. The Shades seemed to share a rather special sense of brotherhood.

They all did their duties in secret. Some merely sent news of their communities to their foreign brethren, others spied on the forces threatening mankind or fought them directly or trained those who one day would. But all had to maintain the secrecy so as not to draw enemies to their homes. The Shades could only be themselves around one another. How could it not contribute to unity?

Katja had soup with a scone in it and ate with great relish along with the fishes she’d caught. She enjoyed the homestead cooking. Freyja, who had taken over as lady of the house after her mother-in-law’s passing, was from the Golden Plain and had brought their love of spices with her. That land had after all taken its name from all the fields.

Katja noticed Anton glancing at her occasionally with a hint of anger in his eyes. She couldn’t help but smile into her soup when she knew he saw. He would recover. As soon as she stopped teasing him.

Serdra made herself scarce after breakfast. She did so occasionally and Katja rarely bothered asking what she was up to. She understood wanting some time for oneself, even if she wasn’t sure Serdra’s needs had the same basis as Katja’s.

So Katja went off in search of ways to help with chores. She and Serdra were guests of honour, but as people had acclimatized to the presence of two Redcloaks and got more relaxed around them Katja’s upbringing had compelled her take part. Serdra helped on occasion, especially when there was great need. But then she was harder to get used to.

She strolled calmly around and made excuses to head for the pantry. Linda, another grandchild of Maron, sat on a stool by the beer barrel and was in the middle of filling large ceramic bottles.

“Do you need help?” Katja asked as soon as she walked in.

“Please,” Linda said brightly. “Have a seat.”

Katja did so and began scraping the foam off the beer surface and putting it on a tray. It would later be used for making bread,

She took a deep breath to savour the smell of cinnamon.

“This is going to be so good,” she said.

“Yes. It came out nicely this year. Freyja deserves praise.”

Cinnamon beer was a tradition around the Inner Sea. Whatever the reason was it was only brewed in the spring and the most conservative families only made one barrel. When asked, Katja’s mother had once said that daily consumption would make it totally unremarkable and that it was better as a special treat.

But once a year? That’s surely too special
, Katja thought.

“Is it true that something notable happened last night?” Linda asked.

“Do you mean that little thing up in the slope?”

“No,” Linda said and looked at her pointedly.

Katja didn’t bother asking where she’d heard that bit of news. There were few secrets on the homestead and Serdra had probably already discussed the Sensing with Maron. She suspected they discussed most things with one another.

“Yes, there is something going on,” she admitted. “We sensed something. The beginning of something. To the north-east.”

“What do you mean by ‘something’?”

“Just... something. A beginning. I can’t describe it any better than that.”

“But you will be heading for danger, won’t you?”

Katja nodded.

“Are you afraid?”

They gazed into each other’s eyes while Katja thought out her answer.

“Not as afraid as I am of living in peace,” she then said and was careful to not let her voice carry beyond the pantry. “It would be a... different sort of death.”

Linda smiled, a bit awkwardly to Katja’s mind, and looked away.

“Do you think me mad?” Katja asked with a faint smile.

“I am not going to tell you not to follow your desires. I am doing so myself, after all.”

“Yes,” Katja said and finished scraping the foam. “Are you looking forward to it?”

Linda smiled again, this time fully.

“Yes.”

Katja’s own smile widened. She was happy for her sake. Linda was engaged to a young Shade in the Golden Plain and would move to him come the fall.

Linda was a small, dark-haired girl with dimpled cheeks and a round face that always made her seem like a child. Nevertheless she was eighteen years old just like Katja, who often found her friend an interesting contrast to herself.

Linda had learned simple self-defence and could wield a knife or a spear but was by no means a warrior and more comfortable staying out of arguments than fighting to win them.

She was polite, level-headed and wise for her age. And as she had been born into a Shade family she was raised to the strangeness that came with this life, so to her it was not strange at all.

Her role among the Shades would simply be to maintain a home, keep a discreet eye on her area and funnel information to allies.

Katja sometimes felt like she was evaluating her, her behaviour and thoughts. Perhaps she wanted to be able to teach others about Redcloaks some day, or know what to expect if she ever hosted one in her life. Or perhaps she was merely curious.

Linda finished filling the last bottle and placed it on her knees.

“This will be a fine Summer Celebration,” she said and let the contents slosh a bit. “As we rejoice in the season of life and flowers and wish for a bright future, all in accordance with tradition.”

Katja felt a sly smile bloom on her lips and reached for a pocket on one trouser leg. She took out two large leaves from a spearbush and waved them in the air.

Linda smiled back and picked up two cups and poured into them. She handed one to Katja, who savoured the taste with very slow sips. The beer was good. Amazingly good.

Then they each chewed a leaf. The minty flavour was a decent snack but also provided a fresh breath and did a good job of disguising the smell of alcohol.

“You are not as well behaved as you seem,” Katja whispered and Linda shushed her with a grin.

They arranged the bottles neatly in shelves and went their separate ways. Katja strolled out to a small field used for sparring and ball games and sat down on a tree stump. She breathed in the spring air and allowed her mind to wander.

Katja was eager for her travels to continue, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt if it waited past the Summer Celebration. She had spent the last one adventuring with Serdra. It had been a good trade-off, but she was still particularly looking forward to it this year.

A simple little festival, in the company of family folk. Songs and merriment, drinks and good food. Just as the life she’d had before Serdra came along and introduced her to her true nature.

Katja was happy being what she was. But it occurred to her on occasion that she would never again live the way she had been raised. And she couldn’t help but feel a touch of nostalgia at the thought. Sometimes there was even a hint of homesickness, but she always suppressed it immediately.

She had always wanted to leave home and Maria, her same-age cousin, had become the only thing keeping her in place. And then she died.

Katja reached into her shirt collar and took out her necklace.

How do you fare, Dove?
she thought.
How are you doing in the spirit world?

“How are you doing?” Maron asked.

Katja started and looked at him. She hadn’t noticed the approach of an old man with a cane. How embarrassing.

“How am I doing... at what?” she asked, a bit flustered.

“Everything,” he said. “You have been stepping into a new world this past year.”

“I’m doing well, I think.”

He nodded.

“You and your mentor will have to be the judges of that.”

“Don’t you know more about our kind than most?”

“More than many, at any rate. I am certainly the only one of my people to work closely with yours. Ask Serdra about Death Peak sometime.”

He cleared his throat.

“I am to
o
old to be as much of an ally to you as I was to Serdra back in the day. You know I tend my duties in a different fashion now.”

Katja knew that quite well. The man was a support pillar for the Shades of Amerstan, Baldur’s Coast and further afield. He had long since seized fighting and spying himself, but he had contacts all over and all information Shades came by flooded back to him like water to the sea. It didn’t hurt that the homestead, a copper mine and trade earned him a modest wealth.

“You have hopefully learned how fleeting your lifestyle is,” the old man said. “Now some problem is brewing and for all we know you might have to run away from here tonight.” Maron pointed at the nearest cluster of bushes with his cane. “Serdra could step out of there the moment I walk away and drag you off. And there is no reason to assume you would have cause to return while I still live.”

Katja looked at the bushes. She
knew
this, but whether she had
learned
it was perhaps a more complicated matter.

“The thing is that if Serdra falls I feel you should return here rather than venture out into the world on your own.”