Firemoon (6 page)

“I have bid farewell to everything. All connections to my youth, all hidden hopes of a different kind of life, all normal ties to the world of mankind. Maron was the last man I was capable of loving. I know there will be no more, however long I may live.”

Katja felt strange. Hints of Serdra’s emotional makeup, if it could be called that, were quite rare. She had never really attributed her mentor with anything other than inexhaustible steadfastness and strength.

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” the woman continued. “I have been too far and done too much.”

“And you don’t want to end up like the elders,” Katja said quietly.

“I feel I have sacrificed enough,” Serdra said. “I have become what I must to defend this world and repel the darkness. I... have never agreed with Roland’s opinion that total numbness is the right way to go. Even though... I have understood him better in later years.”

Serdra looked to the sky and took a breath. Katja did not interrupt because suddenly she was intensely interested in her mentor’s next words.

“Is it not right and natural to have
some
connection to the world one defends?” Serdra asked in a whisper. Katja didn’t know whether the woman was addressing her or thinking aloud. “Is it not right to care about something?”

Katja looked for something to say but came up empty.

Serdra breathed in.

“That is why I want to be a mentor, Katja. Being able to shape and teach and aid new ones in finding their feet in this war, to teach someone to survive and be useful... it is very rewarding.”

“That...” Katja swallowed but her throat was dry. “That is good to hear.”

Finally she turned around.

Serdra smiled. That in itself was fairly common, but seeing actual warmth in it was rarer. It occurred to Katja that she would long remember her mentor standing in the dots of sunlight.

“Most of us are constantly busy, as you heard,” Serdra said. “But some must tend to the training of our young siblings as I have done for you. Since the Dusk War the number has been three. Three of us, wandering the world, have the task of training young ones as they are found. One of them perished in the conflict in Fornos. The seat must be filled and I want the blessing of the elders to occupy it from now onwards.”

“I shall... do my best to make that happen,” Katja said hesitantly.

“I know.”

Serdra looked at her throat.

“I know you want to meet your friend Linda while we are in the country. There is no guarantee that we will have the time to spare, but make friends all the same, even though losing them hurts.” She looked Katja in the eyes and was silent for a little while. “
Live
, Katja.”

Serdra turned and they continued the walk.

4.

Six days after exiting the forest they arrived at their destination.

Blossoms, the village was called, and the gardens surrounding it made it clear why. The area was quite beautiful and the houses all spoke of relative affluence. A river ran from the north and the bridge across it led them straight into the village. The river then swung east for a short stretch, where another bridge could be glimpsed, before continuing south.

The Shade family lived around ordinary folk and so caution had to be taken. Serdra pulled the hood over her white and brown hair and Katja walked in the lead, so people would rather address her and be less likely to note the woman’s strangeness.

The leader of the cell was a man named Njall Tirin and in such a small village they only had to ask once to find his home. They went there and arrived at a large, recently built house that clearly was meant to fit several generations. Katja knocked and a woman opened the door.

The small, dark woman in the blue dress greeted them but then noticed the swords. She ran her eyes over their manly clothing and finally looked Serdra in the face.

Without saying a word she looked back at Katja, who just smiled and raised an eyebrow to answer a question that could not be spoken aloud with neighbours a few metres away.

“We accepted the invitation,” Katja said softly. “And we have come to discuss important matters.”

“Yes,” the woman replied and stared at them, somewhat taken aback. It was as if she hadn’t quite believed they would appear.

“Come in, honoured guests!” she then added hurriedly as she caught herself. They stepped inside and the woman, Disa, showed them to the lounge and sent a little boy to give the family the news.

She brought them wine, told a girl to entertain them with her flute and then continued preparing lunch.

The girl was a decent musician for her age and Katja closed her eyes, sipped the wine and allowed herself to enjoy a moment of relaxation after the journey.

The peace was short-lived. Njall entered with his sister and oldest son and they stood in the doorway to the lounge. The two Redcloaks stood up and Katja sighed a bit on the inside.

Serdra addressed them briefly in the stealth language and then lit the Sentinel Flame for a moment to eliminate any doubt about their identities.

They were flat-out startled at seeing a hint of this power they had only heard of, but Njall recovered quickly.

“Be most welcome,” he said formally. “I offer you the use of my home and help.”

“We accept,” Serdra said and they sat down.

“How many are you here?” Katja asked so she would definitely get to say something in this meeting.

“Here in the village itself there is me, my three siblings, their spouses, our ten children, my father and three cousins. We also have three workers who have taken the oaths and been inducted into our society.”

Disa brought three more wine mugs.

“We have lived here for three years, after I came into possession of portions of the fruit gardens.”

“I like the looks of this,” Serdra said. “This could in time become a strong bastion.”

Their hosts clearly liked this but Njall commented that it probably depended on the outcome of the war.

“Yes, shouldn’t we discuss the war?” Katja said.

Njall hesitated.

“We need to discuss the war, yes, and several other things. But shouldn’t we wait until evening, so all can be present?”

“Yes, let us do so,” Serdra said.

Katja was rather irritated but tried not to show it.

Serdra delivered messages from Maron and his people and then moved on to the most notable news from Amerstan, as well as those that Maron had received from other areas. Their hosts responded with stories from the north and the west. Katja did her best to memorize the names of people and places. There was no knowing where her paths would lead.

Disa refilled the wine and Katja and Serdra gave their first-hand accounts of the events in Twigs, as well as the conflict in Baldur’s Coast the year before. The folks listened with great interest. Some Shades participated directly in the Silent War while others simply spied and sent messages. These people were in the latter category.

Eventually evening was upon them and the rest of the Shades began to come home. The Redcloaks were introduced to them as they entered and the reactions were usually similar to Disa’s. Redcloaks and Shades had worked together since their order was founded ages ago, but few had direct experience with the unaging defenders.

Katja swung between pride at her status, and feeling ever more the gulf between her and others.

She shook off those thoughts as dinner was served. They ate an ingredient-rich soup with bread and apples. Katja pretended to focus on the food but noticed that most if not all regularly peeked at them.

After dinner they finally began to discuss what awaited Pine City.

“Valdimar’s army essentially has three options,” Njall said and rolled out a map. “There are three routes through which a fully equipped army can pass without it taking an eternity. First, they can attack the border fort separating the Golden Plain from the North. The garrison has been increased greatly and the fort itself is very difficult to attack. And if they attempt a siege Hrolfur will have enough time to gather the army and march north. The road passes through another small fort to the north of us, which would be another hindrance for them and secondary bastion for the border army, if they had to flee south.”

Njall took a breath.

“They could also circle west and pass through Nokkva Pass, in the heart of Duke Skari’s territory. Skari is fond of his independence and is known for not wishing to bow to anyone. In addition he trades with the North and Pine City equally, but it’s still possible that he could be bribed into letting the army through without a fight. Skari does command enough warriors that an attack on him would be risky, especially right before an attack on the city.”

“He would then probably ask Hrolfur for aid,” said Patrekur, Njall’s brother. “And the man would hardly turn down an offer to scatter the northern army before it enters the Golden Plain itself.”

“The third way would be to circle east, along the slopes of Mount Krakas.” Njall pointed. “But then Duke Kjalar would be able to launch strikes at him.” The man smiled mischievously. “And it just so happens that Kjalar is one of us.”

“I knew about that,” Serdra said. “But are you so sure that he can repel a northern invasion army?”

“I don’t get many opportunities to speak directly to dukes,” Njall admitted. “But I know that Kjalar rigorously trains what men he does have. So he is in command of a small but very hardy and fast-moving force, especially if the fighting will be in the slopes.”

Njall’s father was elderly and mostly sat and twisted his walking stick in his hands. Now however, he cleared his throat.

“His worth as a general was put to the test seven years ago when Farnar mercenaries struck west. He did fine.” The old man cleared his throat again. “That is part of the reason people are suggesting he succeed Hrolfur. People trust him to defend the city better than most.”

Serdra leaned back and intertwined her fingers.

“What do the Shades of the north say?”

The silence that followed her words was rather awkward.

“Little of use,” one of Njall’s and Disa’s sons muttered. Apparently his name was Billi.

Someone chuckled.

“So they do not wish to get involved?” Serdra said and didn’t look surprised to Katja.

“They are subjects of Valdimar,” Njall said with reluctance. “And if he annexes the city it will mean considerable profit for people in the right positions. They will not spy for us, or give information.”

“That is to be expected,” Serdra said. “This is not part of the Silent War.”

The Shades did not care for the subject and Katja saw they generally felt the Shades of the north had the wrong priorities. Serdra turned her head and briefly looked her in the eyes. She supposed there was another lesson for her in all this.

“Except that might be wrong,” the woman then said to all present, much to their surprise.

“There is something brewing,” Serdra continued, and raised her voice to overpower the muttering. “Something more than an ordinary war between men. And it will happen in this land.”

“What do you mean?” asked one of the women. “Are you saying something evil has gotten its hooks into a king?”

Katja could understand how unsettling that thought was, though from what she heard kings could be quite evil enough on their own.

“Possibly,” Serdra said. “One of our brothers is on his way north to look into it. But it may also be that the Brotherhood simply means to take advantage of the chaos of war somehow. Either way, you should get the message to your brethren that this has to do with more than wealth.”

“Can you be more precise?” said the same woman. Katja thought her name was Anna.

“We are not so fortunate, I am afraid. “I am not an expert on predictions. But this brother of ours is, and I can see enough to know that he is right. You should be on your guard and keep any weapons you own at the ready.”

“We...” Njall cleared his throat. “We will.”

“What about Shades in the city?” Katja asked hurriedly. “How much contact do you have with it?”

“Not much,” Njall said. “Our oldest son, Brjann, settled there to learn architecture and his wife moved in with him, from the south. You presumably know her.”

“Yes,” Katja said and stared at Njall without seeing him. “We know her.”

“But we understand that you are in need of aid?” Serdra said. “You asked Maron to spare a few operatives shortly before we decided to come here.”

“Yes,” Njall said and got a bit embarrassed. “Though I was not expecting such help as this.”

Katja smirked.

“What is the issue?”

“The Brotherhood of the Pit,” the man replied.

Katja hesitated.

“I see.”

“As I said, we moved here three years ago, both for the good of our family and to watch over the area for our order. We believe we have found a major Brotherhood territory close to here.”

Katja listened intently and nibbled on her lower lip. Perhaps this related to what was coming.

“Bag River County is to the east,” Njall said. “Between us and the coast. It is a rich and bountiful land, covered with the fields the Golden Plain got its name from, hamlets and irrigation canals. It is also...”

Njall hesitated and looked away. He seemed to be searching for the right words.

“There is a certain silence over the area,” Patrekur finished severely.

“Yes, that is it,” Njall said.

“The people there are rather infamous for being uncommunicative towards strangers,” the younger brother continued. “I have travelled there to trade and one quickly gets a feeling there is a general agreement to keep something secret. Even the innkeepers seem to want one gone as fast as possible.”

Patrekur shook his head.

“I tell you, among the beautiful fields and trimmed trees of Bag River County I sleep lightly, with a chair before the door and a knife in the cot.”

He looked into a darkened corner and Katja saw old fear in his eyes. She was inclined to believe him.

“Such is often the case in societies that hide a sorcerous order or something similarly unclean,” Serdra said. “But sometimes people are just isolationistic and unfriendly without anything evil being behind it.”

“Patrekur is right,” said another man. He was heavy of brow, dark and stocky. Katja had lost his name amidst all the introductions. “Something evil hides there,” he continued in his deep voice. “Travellers no-one nearby would miss go missing there rather too often. They leave behind no chatter, no-one in the county will speak of them or admit to having seen them. People just disappear.”

“Have you investigated these incidents?” Katja asked. The man seemed fairly formidable.

“As much as I believe I can without going missing myself,” he said. “I have mostly spoken to people on the periphery of the county. With subtlety one can get certain information out of them.”

“The black hound,” Njall’s father muttered quietly.

“That may very well be a rumour, father,” said Njall’s sister, Ebba, rather awkwardly.

The old man shook his head.

“A rumour doesn’t put such a fear on people’s faces,” he said. “You siblings have it good but I did direct missions for the order in my youth and I know horror at the unnatural when I see it.”

“Who is the pooch in question?” Katja asked.

The old man’s eyes slowly turned towards her. All his movements were like the voice, slow but with a certain weight.

“It was fifteen years ago,” he said. “By a small cluster of houses near the western borders of Bag River County. An inn and a smithy and a handful of farms. There people were awoken in the middle of the night by a terrible howl that echoed through the nigh,t despite there being no cliffs to bounce the sound about.”

Katja turned her chair towards him and clasped her hands around one knee. The old man had her full attention. She gave a moment’s thought to the fact that the night had to be pitch black by now.