The Call (7 page)

“We're talking about you, not me,” Serdra replied.

“I-” Katja grimaced and threw up her hands. “When I was a little girl I was playing outside,” she said hurriedly. “And, and suddenly I got so
afraid
.” The memory of the fear of an eight-year old wasn't pleasant. “Afraid for my home. Afraid of fire. I had heard of a recent house fire. So I sprinted home and found a burning candle which had fallen on the floor, into some straw. The fire hadn't caught yet, but I put the candle out and placed it back on the shelf.”

Serdra briefly digested this.

“Yes, plain but typical. The candle was already on the floor and would probably have started a fire if no-one intervened. The most reliable visions are along those lines. Or of the very immediate future.”

“Such as in a fight?”

“Yes. Don't try to predict an opponent's next ten moves. Your own actions will greatly affect those, and so much could happen in the meantime that it's almost impossible to analyse that far. Just look to the next step, and react to it.”

“But
how
?!” Katja shouted. “
How
do I scry ahead? You tell me to, but don't tell me how!”

“I am teaching it to you,” Serdra said and one corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “With every swing and blow that lands. You have been raised to only employ five senses and to rely on them entirely. You just need to break the habit.”

Serdra took her shoes off, still with her eyes closed.

“You did passably against the hill monsters. Fear pushed rational thinking to the side and you were free to simply react. I can imagine the earlier fight in the village was similar.”

Katja opened her mouth, but then closed it again. This woman was frustratingly good at reading her. She wasn't accustomed to it, after growing up as the village weirdo.

One of two,
she thought and touched her necklace.

The memory took some of the tension out of her and her thoughts slowed. She squeezed the pebble softly, got lost in memories and was vaguely aware of Serdra disrobing and slipping into bed.

The fire gradually went out and Katja pulled the blanket tighter around herself. She kind of wanted to complain about her wakefulness but worried that Serdra would just show the sleeper hold again. If she wasn't already asleep, that is. Her breathing was almost always even, so it was difficult to tell.

She satisfied herself with gazing up into the darkness and quietly cursing her own thoughts, until weariness blessedly overcame everything else and dreams took over.

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

Tovar Savaren sat in the saddle and gazed ahead like an eagle on a branch. His men stood in formations on either side, on guard for the sake of safety as well as secrecy.

An agreement had been reached about a meeting place far from main roads and witnesses. The only one who didn't belong here was the guide they'd acquired. He had led them the easiest way across hills and wetlands and straight to the ravine that few knew existed.

The task was done and now the guide stood stock still and shook slightly, occasionally groaning as if he was trying to speak. The noises were marked by fear.

He didn't know who they were or why he had aided them or why he could neither speak nor leave. He was, after all, just some farmer and had already served his purpose.

The arrivals didn't try to approach quietly, which was a good sign. They came along the ravine with a few donkeys. Tovar thought he saw about twenty men.

“Good evening,” he called out authoritatively. “Peace be on this meeting, by those who came before and the cousins.”

“Good evening,” said the one in the lead and approached the light. “So you are Tovar Savaren?”

“Yes. And you are Vajan the kinless.”

“I have been called that, but worse things as well,” the leader of the arrivals replied and smiled at his father's shame.

He motioned for one of his men to step forth, and that one opened a book case he'd been holding.

One of Tovar's men met them, received it and brought it to his leader.

Tovar felt a certain awe at touching the carved wood. The contents had, after all, been a part of their history, and that of the world, and would hopefully be again. He carefully loosened the band and looked in. The old sheets were there, along with all of their promises and dangers. He couldn't help but smile. This was the missing piece.

“I take it you're satisfied,” Vajan said, and something about this casualness irritated Tovar.

“Certainly,” he said and closed the case. “As the leader of my coven I welcome you.”

He signalled and the guests in turn were given a gift in a case. The oldest of them received it and would go back home with half of the team as agreed. Vajan and his closest men would follow Tovar home and participate in the task ahead.

The farmer groaned again. Tovar had almost forgotten about him. He motioned to Lars and the tall, bald man with the intimidating face and precise hands drew a knife and skilfully slit the man's throat.

The spell which had held the farmer was no longer relevant and he could finally make noises. Briefly.

The gathering was silent as the man made his last gasps. It felt proper to Tovar. The killing had been a mere formality, but he still felt it appropriate to seal this event in such a way. Special occasions should be marked, and this alliance would change a great deal in this land and others.

Chapter
4.

Katja's foot slipped in the light snow which had fallen on the fell during the night. The blow she'd aimed at Serdra's leg missed badly, and Katja took yet another blow to the head with the wooden sword.

“Kill,” Serdra said calmly and took a few steps backwards. Katja took a few moments to recover her breath with one knee on the ground. She knew she mustn't dawdle too long. Serdra would attack her to teach her grit. They had been at it all day like most days, and Katja had little strength left.

They had covered much during the month they'd spent on Flat Top. They had gone hunting together, Serdra had woven a target out of twigs and thrown it to give Katja's something mobile to shoot at, they'd gone over the basics of all the weapons and today Serdra had added sneaking up behind people and killing them quietly to the roster.

Katja had found the last one eerie. She enjoyed fighting and feeling herself grow more dangerous under Serdra's tutelage. But silent murder? Few battle poems were told of such things, and there was something so ice-cold about Serdra's descriptions of how to stifle the victim's last rattles.

Her feelings couldn't be lost on the woman. It was impossible to keep anything from her, and Katja had expected some speech about sentiment. But Serdra had said nothing of the sort, just briefly looked her in the face when the lesson was over and then gone back to swordfighting.

Katja stood up and attacked with the practice sword. She tried to do as Serdra constantly told her to and sense her opponent's reaction before it happened. She had started to succeed at it more times than not.

Serdra parried the strike and pushed Katja backwards.

What she still lacked was the quickness to use the knowledge for the moment it was relevant. Except of course when Serdra allowed it.

So she tried to go one step further, to see Serdra's immediate reaction and control the second one through her own actions. It was like trying to look forwards and backwards at the same time, but she
tried
. Tried to stretch out this indescribable feeling, like a mix of all five senses, which told her of events before they happened.

Serdra parried the attack, and the next and the next. She struck back and hit Katja hard on the arm. She ground her teeth and kept on going. She was now finally able to use the sensitivity as something more than reflex and it had to do some good!

She listened to her feelings and made a slight change to her next attack, which caused Serdra to parry in a slightly different way than otherwise, and so was in a perfect position for-

Serdra whipped up to her and kicked her in the shin.

Katja lost her balance and Serdra easily caught her right arm and threw her down on her back.

Katja tried to resist, but the fall had knocked the air from her lungs and she couldn't apply any force. So she just lay in the snow with Serdra on top her. Yet again.

It took all her willpower to not growl with rage and thrash about hopelessly. She didn't want to show defeat in such an obvious way. It probably mattered little though, given how Serdra seemed to see straight through her.

I feel sorry for the next regular person who tries to fight me!

“I know what you were trying,” the older woman said. Her voice was always calm, but now had a slightly softer tone than usually.

“It didn't work,” Katja said through clenched teeth.

“Of course not, you are just a child. I warned you about peering too far. You have nevertheless made progress since you're even attempting such a thing.”

Serdra stood up and extended her hand. Katja hesitated a moment but then took it and let the woman help her up.

“So is that it? Are you about done here?”

“Are you eager to get started in earnest?”

“Yes,” Katja answered and reached for the sword. She was impatient. She had finally escaped from home and wanted to test these skills Serdra was imparting on her.

Serdra was silent and Katja wondered whether she was contemplating something or preparing yet another surprise attack to sharpen her reflexes. She could never look past the power in those eyes to see what was going on behind them.

Katja tensed up involuntarily, though experience told her Serdra's surprise attacks only came when they were genuinely surprising.

“Do you know why?” Serdra finally asked.

“What?”

“Why we fight. The Call is strong in you, I saw the moment I laid eyes on you. But have you thought beyond that?”

The question surprised her.

“Well,” Katja sighed and shrugged. “We... repel monsters, like you said. That's apparently what we do, given all the dreams. Or what?”

Serdra just nodded her head slightly as if Katja had given half an answer. She looked around a bit and then walked towards the cabin.

“That's enough for today,” she said. “Let us rest.”

Katja was relieved. Darkness was descending and the last three nights had largely been spent on fighting so she wouldn't come to rely too much on eyesight.

Cold seeped into her muscles now that she wasn't exerting herself anymore, and she hurried inside.

Serdra added wood to the fire and they took of their sweat-and snow-soaked clothes.

Katja sighed silently and knelt by the fire and rubbed her chest while Serdra put water in a pot. Only a week ago she could practice outside wearing only her pants and breast wraps. But there was no arguing with the elements, the snow was here and wouldn't leave for two months. Or perhaps more, given their altitude.

They heated water and washed themselves and their clothes, took down the clothes they'd hung up to dry yesterday and hung up the wet ones.

Finally they cut pieces from the smoked goat meat hanging from the rafters, took some rye bread which they'd made in the morning and sat down for dinner. Katja took the bed as usual and Serdra sat opposite her on a chair.

There wasn't much meat left, to Katja's delight. Another hunting trip would be a nice change, and she'd been immensely pleased to only have to share the best parts with one person, as opposed to six.

“Have you thought about what I said to you?” Serdra asked as they were each finishing their strip of meat.

“You've said a lot to me.”

“I meant my question about dreams and visions. Have you recalled something?”

Ah yes, that.

She looked up at Serdra, and quickly back down on the meat she had left. She wished she had more appetite so as to distract her mind with something.

“I, ugh, my mother told me I'd described my grandfather with perfect accuracy when I was only five years old. Except he died when I was less than a year old. And I...” She bit into the smoked meat and chewed it slowly as she thought. She didn't understand why this bothered her so much. She just found something unnerving about having senses she didn't understand, and which could apparently decide on their own what to reveal to her.

“When I was nine,” she finally said, “we, me, my brothers and some other children were playing hide and seek in the woods. I hid in a depression, and...”

The memory was crystal clear now that she had dug it up, and the discomfort writhed within her as if she'd swallowed a live snake.

“They couldn't find me, and I got bored and let my mind wander and suddenly I couldn't breathe.” Katja stroked her throat. “I felt like someone was there with me, though I neither saw nor heard anyone and... and I felt piercing agony in my gut. I heard a scream that came from nowhere. I-” She shook her head and rushed the rest of the story out of her mouth. “I ran home screaming and lay in bed until the next day. I was later told the spot was called Murder Hollow, and a young man had been murdered there for his jacket, and..”

She threw up her hands and looked at Serdra. This would suffice, no matter what the woman had to say about it.

“How long had it been since the murder?” Serdra asked.

“About thirty years, I think. My mother was a small child.

Serdra nodded a bit, and Katja thought she saw a hit of approval in her demeanour. Approval of what?

“Hm, thirty years,” she said. “Was there suspicion of anything supernatural about the murder?”

“What? No. Or, at least I think not. The murderer was caught, confessed and was drowned. And I heard no stories of hauntings.”

Serdra thought for a little bit.

“Seeing past events is very different from seeing upcoming ones. It is easier in many ways, but also carries certain dangers and is more difficult to make use of.”

She stood up, put water in the little pot they used to brew tea and put it over the fireplace.

“Let's try it now.”

“What?”

“Let's try to make you see the past of this place.”

“I...” Katja got a bit flustered. She knew from experience that Serdra wouldn't heed objections, but she was scared.

Serdra pushed her chair up against the bed and sat right opposite Katja.

“Listen to me: There are certain rules when it comes to sensing past events,” she said in her mentor voice and her eyes held Katja firmly. “All depends on the sensitivity of the one looking, but it usually gets harder to see events the older they get.”

“Usually?”

“It matters how
strong
the event is. Violence, murder, sorrow, births, suicides, disasters and especially dark sorcery. Such things leave a...” Serdra hesitated. “Let's call it a
mark
. The more fateful the event, the longer it lives to those who can see such things. That was how I knew what happened in your village. I snuck in at night and
looked
. It doesn't have to be something so extreme. Peaceful events which carry great consequences can also be quite clear, if one knows how to see them.”

“And what am I to see here?”

Serdra stood up and nimbly stepped behind the chair. She put her hands on the back of it.

“Have a seat.”

Katja looked at her for a few moments and then stood up herself. She had almost forgotten about Flat Top's nasty reputation and didn't like the tingle of fear which took the strength from her legs and made her thump into the seat.

Why is it so hard to argue with her?

Serdra put her hands on Katja's shoulders and leaned her into the chair's back.

“There are dangers inherent in peering far,” Serdra said calmly, behind Katja. “Especially forward. As you know by now the future is constantly in motion, and the more divergences that enter the picture the more complex it becomes and more difficult for a mind to grasp. One of our sisters, Mia, is called The Seer by many. I don't know whether she was born with abnormally sharp sensitivity or whether she just honed it too well, but in any case she sees the future better than any of us and
only
the future. All of its possibilities.”

“That sounds overwhelming,” Katja said.

“Yes. Even the elders wouldn't be able to handle it and she is younger than me. And the sight costs her dearly. She cannot examine the past, isn't as powerful a warrior as one her age should be and most who meet her think her mad. And in a certain way she is. She wanders the Outskirts and obeys the Call by pulling on the various strings which bind the future together; trying to steer it in the best channel.”

“And what's the danger in seeing past events?”

“Well, then you aren't seeing possibilities. You are seeing events which
happened
and left marks. If those events were bad it can be risky to immerse oneself too deeply. One must maintain a balance between seeing the event clearly and yet keeping a certain distance between it and you. Do you understand?”

“I think I do.”

“Then let's get started.”

“But... but...”

“Just do as I say. This shouldn't be too difficult for you and I'll pull you back if you gaze too deeply.”

Katja attempted to calm herself with a deep breath. Fights were a simple matter. One just had to attack and defend from attacks. But this? How was she to do this safely?

“Keep breathing deeply,” Serdra said softly and Katja felt the tone was meant to be soothing. “Relax and try to empty your mind. This takes concentration.”

Katja breathed slowly and deeply and tried to release the tension in her body. Serdra started to gently rub her shoulders, which felt rather strange. She hadn't touched people with any tenderness for a while, except for Maria.

It took a while, but eventually she managed to calm herself. It took yet more time to stop the mind wandering, but Serdra seemed to sense it immediately.

“Now
listen
,” she whispered. “Strong events took place here. The marks endure still. The threads. Close your eyes and feel for them.”

Katja closed her eyes. She sat in darkness and heard nothing except the crackling of the fire and her own breathing and heartbeat. It was difficult to think of nothing. Something always sought to bubble to the surface. Worries, contemplations and memories.

Somehow she nonetheless managed to keep herself in this mental void and she started to feel it.