An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  “It’s not like we work in a temple here, Garo,” Sevlor said in a low voice. “Job conditions. We all knew them before we started.”

  “That man killed more mercenaries than targets,” Garo replied. “Maybe he’s here to kill us right now. Why should we trust him?”

  Kefier felt for his sword, aware that drawing it now might spell death for him. But before he could answer, he saw Caiso and an older, balding man appear at the door. “What’s happening here?” Caiso barked. He pointed at Garo. “Causing more trouble again? I had you flogged last time, you bull-headed fuckface, and if that wasn’t enough…”

  “Oh, bite me,” Garo snapped.

  “Maybe I will.” Caiso’s eyes glinted. “This isn’t the time to be arguing with new recruits. We just received word from Ni’in.”

  “Baeddan’s dead,” the other man said. “We need to assemble in the front hall.”

  A hush fell across the room. The men streamed out into the yard, and followed the officers down the path and back into the main building. Striding through the set of double doors, Kefier caught sight of Yn Garr leaning over the railing at the top floor.

  The silence turned into commotion. It took several minutes for the officers to control their men. “Yes, yes, Baeddan!” Caiso was screaming, his hair in disarray. “Apparently, Algat, too. Sevlor, talk to your friends, we need to hear what Yn Garr has to say.”

  “He brought the news?” Garo’s humour had not improved this whole time.

  Yn Garr, from above them all, held up his hands. The crowd fell silent. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “As you all may have heard by now, your glorious leader, Baeddan Siromer, has passed on.”

  Behind Kefier, he heard a man stifle a sob.

  “Some of you are calling for justice,” Yn Garr continued, without missing a beat. “This is not possible. Baeddan’s death is justice. The man betrayed you all.”

  An outraged cry erupted. Caiso and the other officers drew their swords. A man tried to jump at the staircase. Caiso smashed his wrist into the man's jaw and watched in satisfaction as he crashed to the floor.

  “Did you not wonder,” Yn Garr continued, his voice rising, “why so many of you were dying out there? Baeddan’s interests deserted you all and went straight into his coffers. The Boarshind was growing bankrupt—no matter how much money I was throwing at you, I am told that very little made it back to your own pockets. I have here statements from the banks, proving what I’m saying.” He patted a stack of papers on a desk beside him.

  “You said Algat’s dead, too,” one of the officers spoke up.

  Yn Garr gave him a look. “The man was loyal to Baeddan. He was getting rich off your troubles, the same as his master. When was the last time he ever went out on a job?”

  “Said he had gout, the fucking bastard,” Caiso snarled.

  Yn Garr nodded at him. “They were both executed. An argument turned sour.”

  “I thought both men were called to Ni’in because of an urgent matter…” Caiso began.

  Yn Garr ignored him. “Ke-if, please join us.”

  Nobody looked at him at first, not until he had begun to climb the staircase. Caiso stepped aside to let him through. He stopped a foot away from Yn Garr, not quite trusting to stand next to him. “This man carried out my orders,” Yn Garr said.

  Kefier saw eyes widen. He heard Garo scream.

  “No, be silent!” Yn Garr roared. “Yes, this man killed both Baeddan and Algat under my orders.” He waited a moment, allowing the knowledge to sink in. “They were both skilled in the blade, with years of fighting experience behind them. It couldn’t have been easy.”

  “Are you trying to get me killed?” Kefier said, under his breath.

  Yn Garr didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he raised his voice. “I wanted to point this out because as the now sole owner of the Boarshind, I am appointing him your new head. Things are about to change around here.” He placed a key in Kefier’s hand. “To your new office, Sir Ke-if.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kefier stayed in Baeddan’s room, expecting a knife at his throat before dawn. He slept on the floor; it felt strange enough being forced to usurp his position as head of the Boarshind. To sleep in his bed felt like a step too far. Not that it did him much good—he remained awake for much of the night, staring at the chandelier on the ceiling.

  Sometime before dawn, he heard a soft knock on the door. He checked the sword on his belt before rising to open it. Arlisa’s face appeared through the crack, half-hidden by the shadows.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I thought—well, that maybe you didn’t get a lot of rest.”

  “I didn’t.” He undid the chain and pushed the door open.

  She glanced at the bedding on the floor, but she didn’t comment on it. “Do you need help? Falling asleep, I mean.”

  It took him a full heartbeat to understand her words. Once, they might have filled him with an onslaught of emotion. It felt strange to observe his reactions now, to understand that Oji might have had it right all along. He might have convinced himself he was in love, but Oji had explained, more patiently than the other men did, that it was not like in the songs. There is always that wave, like the first spark of fire, but it needed fuel to burn—years of shared hardships, small successes, little glances across a table. Laughter on a sleepless night, a child between the two of them.

  The fire had burned down in the years since he’d last seen Lisa. Not even ashes remained to remind him it existed. The boy who worshipped the ground she walked was now a stranger to him. He did remember the last night he’d spent with her. He remembered thinking that if he had listened, Oji would still be alive. They wouldn’t have argued about her. Instead of finishing Thiar’s job, he might have even walked away.

  But none of that was her fault, and it would be unkind to imagine otherwise.

  “I won’t be much good to you,” he said. “It’s almost morning. Do you want to just grab breakfast with me? Iro usually starts the ovens before first light.”

  He didn’t touch her at all. She must have noticed that, because she turned with a huff. “I was just being polite. Breakfast it is. Do you want me to order you a new mattress before I leave? I’d like to return to my inn before I get way too involved in all of this.”

  “Too involved?” he asked with a laugh. “I think it’s a little too late for that, Lisa.”

  He stopped. Caiso was on the staircase, wrapping a scarf around his arm.

  “I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to feel about all of this,” Caiso said.

  Kefier cleared his throat. “Thank you for your honesty. But it doesn’t matter. We work for Yn Garr now. We do what he says and get paid.”

  “About that—”

  “I told you last night. I intend to look at all the contracts Algat had made and make sure you all get your fair share from now on.”

  Caiso smiled thinly. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “You’ll get a chance to review the new contracts before you sign them. If you don’t agree, you can walk out.”

  “And you’ll just let me free, just like that?” He swung out. There was a dagger in his right hand.

  It was a careless blow, one meant to test or scare rather than hurt him. Kefier caught his wrist easily, twisting it until the dagger fell off. Caiso stared back, a single lock of hair falling over his nose.

  “I don’t know you, Kefier,” he said, snorting. “But I’ve heard things. Was it true that you and Oji…”

  He pushed him. “Do we have a problem, Caiso?”

  “Not at all,” Caiso said, rubbing his wrist.

  “That’s good to hear. I don’t like problems. I’m very bad at solving them with my head. But you know that already.”

  Caiso gave a weak grin. “I believe you and the lady were heading out?”

  “We’re heading to the mess hall for breakfast. You’re welcome to join us.”
>
  Caiso gave a mock bow. “As you wish.”

  Kefier noted the insincerity in his voice, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. It did tell him that many of the men probably shared the same sentiments as him. It wasn’t like accepting a leader promoted from the ranks; he was an outsider, and even if they had heard of him, it was as part of an elaborate story that was distorted beyond recognition.

  If Lisa noticed Kefier’s discomfort, she said nothing about it. They were the first in the mess hall, and he noted, with some relief, that Iro had warmed up to his presence.

  “He was always an early riser, this one,” Iro told Caiso with a grin. “Used to keep me company while I started the fires. Didn’t stand any taller than my shoulder, then.”

  “You always made pudding from yesterday’s bread,” Kefier said. “I remember.”

  “No one else liked them half as much.” He shook his head. “I’ll make some now, if you’ll wait. With raisins?”

  “I hate raisins,” Caiso said.

  Iro snorted at him. “All the better, then.” He withdrew into the kitchen.

  Caiso grabbed a table by the window. “As if he wasn’t a smug, insufferable bastard already,” he murmured. When Kefier grabbed the stool next to him, he looked startled. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to make friends. You said we didn’t have a problem.”

  Caiso glanced at Lisa, who shrugged. “Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did.”

  “What?” Caiso laughed. “You refused her? Well, that is intriguing. Is it a reason I can help you with?”

  Kefier gave a grim smile. “I can see why you both get along.”

  “Caiso here was born in Hafod,” Lisa said. “You can tell by the cultured way he drinks his wine and harasses his men. They’re more terrified of him than Algat.”

  “The bastards flatter themselves.”

  Her words broke the tension. Caiso caved in and told the story of how he left on a ship before he was fifteen. Had always liked the idea of carving his own niche into the world and made his way to Kago, where he joined the Boarshind. He was promoted after old Ushiar’s death—younger than they liked officers to be, but all the other better candidates had met suspicious deaths and so they had no choice but to pick him.

  Caiso fell silent when Robaz, the balding officer he was with last night, appeared. Kefier knew Robaz, though the man, in return, didn’t look like he recognized him at all. But he shook his hand and wished him all the best in his position as new leader of the Boarshind. Kefier was starting to realize that he couldn’t tell if someone was being sincere. Everyone sounded suspicious to him.

  The other men arrived as dawn broke. Kefier tried to talk to everyone and know their names, but most made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with him. When Sevlor appeared, he felt relief wash over him at seeing at least one friendly face. “I haven’t seen Garo anywhere.”

  “He left for Cairntown last night.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Caiso broke in. “By my count, at least twenty others walked away last night after Yn Garr’s announcement.”

  Kefier didn’t have time to sort his feelings out over the matter. He returned to his quarters and spent the rest of the morning going through Baeddan’s paperwork. He still struggled with the reading, but he didn’t know who to trust to help him. He was able to make several notes for himself and tasked Sevlor with finding him a scribe.

  “Why?” Sevlor looked like he thought he was joking.

  “Because I want this done properly.”

  “We’re in Kago. Nobody cares.”

  “We’re in Kago, but we’re supposed to be doing business in Cael and Hafod and elsewhere. The rest of the world have laws. When you break them, painful things happen.”

  Sevlor looked dubious, but he also looked like he was scared to say no.

  “I guess I’d have to go to Cael,” he mumbled. “Nalvor Port, maybe. Any scribe who sets up office in Cairntown or Ni’in would have to be a rat.”

  “Do that. Send me the bill,” he said. He wondered where that newfound confidence was coming from. He had seen a statement of the Boarshind’s own funds from last month. He didn’t know much beyond balancing a household budget—though even that, he had left for Sume to work through—but he knew what empty coffers looked like. Yn Garr’s claims of Baeddan taking everything for himself must have a grain of truth, or else he had been the kind of man who threw bags of coin off bridges for fun.

  At least twice in the nights that followed, he woke up in the darkness and was convinced that the bundle in the corner was his little girl, curled up in sleep. Each time, he got up to check. The hurt that followed upon his realization that they were nothing more than rolled-up blankets was almost too much to bear.

  The days were easier. He threw out Baeddan’s bed, claiming the mattress hurt his back, and allowed the officers to draw lots for that and for Algat’s room. Dasten won the bed; Caiso, the room. Not long after, the scribe came, and they spent several days re-drafting the contracts and getting everyone to sign. Kefier also authorized the release of every single coin owing to the men. The Boarshind couldn’t afford it, but Kefier didn’t care about the money; he just didn’t want to get murdered in his sleep.

  Whether his tactics worked or not, he couldn’t tell. But the men seemed warmer towards him, less inclined to avoid him in the mess hall or out in the courtyard. More importantly, the strange noises outside his window at night stopped.

  When Arlisa returned after weeks of being away, he couldn’t wait to tell her. But the look on her face, when they met in the main hall, held his tongue.

  “I came back from Fuyyu as soon as I could,” she said. “I wanted you to hear it from me. I was checking up on that letter to Kirosha’s mother, you know, the one you asked me to write? Shirrokaru’s gone, Kefier. It was attacked several nights ago.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “What do you mean gone?”

  “They said it lit up in flames. I couldn’t understand. The survivors were just arriving and the ones I spoke to, you couldn’t get a straight answer from them.”

  “No word about Sume at all?”

  “I don’t know. I’m...I’m sorry, Kefier.”

  I’m sorry.

  He realized, lying awake once more in the middle of the floor in Baeddan’s old room, that peace was not to be granted to him after all. The house was gone. The pond he and Dai had spent three days digging, lining it with burlap cloth he had gathered from the smithy’s was now probably a mud pit. He should be glad Rosha was safe in Cael and that they weren’t there when it all happened. You could be content with small miracles like that.

  He drifted into sleep. In his dreams, he was sitting on the beach, amused at the way the moon reflected on the sea and the sea reflected off Sume’s face. They were talking. He couldn’t hear her voice, but somehow he had a memory of what they had just been talking about. Something about starfish, and how Dai had come home with bruises from a fight.

  Her face dissipated. In her place stood the beast. The bulbous protrusion of its eye gleamed at him, rolling in and around its socket. Ribs showed through its emaciated form. Tendrils of fire surrounded its feet, filling the air with a thick, noxious stench. It was very close. He could have reached out and touched it with his hand.

  It is so very easy to solve problems by killing things, is it not? The ghastly voice filled the spaces in his head like a sock stuffed into a shoe.

  He looked down. There was a sword in his hand. He swung at the creature, but it drew back, laughing. The blood spilled over his fingers and down his arm. He saw Algat on the other end, staring at him, eyes mocking him as he ever had. He killed him a second time.

  Another figure appeared. Baeddan.

  “I was kind to you, boy,” the old man said, but that didn’t stop his blade from swinging.

  “I’m sorry,” he gasped, staring at Baeddan’s body drooping in front of him. “I needed to do it. For my daughter—”


  Someone attacked him from behind. He grabbed it, turned, and stuck the blade in before he saw Gaven’s face. Gaven snorted. He twisted the blade. The body turned into a man he didn’t recognize, but he was clad in the regalia of the Caelian guard.

  That startled him. He kicked the body away. And then he struck again, and this time it was Thiar he killed, old and frail, his hands held out in a plea for mercy.

  The last face was softer than the others. Oji gazed at him, his black curls drooping over his forehead, and time seemed to stop for him.

  “Out of all the people in the world,” Oji whispered. “But to be betrayed by you?”

  His voice was Kefier’s voice, speaking his thoughts out for him.

  “I was afraid,” he groaned, his hands shaking. “You were acting like Enosh and I was terrified.”

  He looked up, gasping. “I tried not to. Oji, I tried…!” And then, just as swiftly as the others, he killed him, and the blade was red and slick with blood. He could barely hold on to it.

  Around him, bodies floated amongst the withered trees. Kefier watched as they drifted towards dark shapes in the distance. It took him a moment to realize that he was looking at the mass that had once been Shirrokaru.

  Ah, the beast hummed into his mind. You are not the one I really want. You do not scare me anymore. There was a flash of light and he woke up. His sword, lying in the corner, was clean.

  Interlude

  Another night and still Papa has not returned. Jarche patiently tells her this, because she has asked every night since his departure, because what if he is back, and they do not tell her and they keep him away from her like they did before?

  She misses her mother, too, and old Narani, and Uncle Dai and Opi. Their old house was very small, but she was allowed to go to the neighbour’s if she asked permission. Here, she is never allowed out of the mansion. And large as it is, with all its wonderful rooms and books and the garden, it gets tiresome. Here, she has no friends.

  Only Jarche; Jarche, who is kind to her, but does not tell her where her father is or when he will be back. Rosha doesn’t tell her, but she holds this against her. Why keep a secret? Mother didn’t like it when she kept secrets, so why should Jarche?