by A L Wright
“I thank ya for yer kindness. It's more than I'd have gotten back home. Men in the village think us women are nothing more than baby makers. I am glad for the chance ta prove them wrong. Go 'n sleep. I'll be fine here.”
Nikka took one last long glance at Friesa, then turned and left.
✽ ✽ ✽
Friesa was almost glad when Nikkola left, only because she was having a hard time hiding her nervousness... especially since she was so tired. She didn't want to be rude when she felt the young Noble girl staring at her while she had started to undress. So, she waited to finish getting undressed until after Nikka left.
Not that she minded being unclothed in front of another woman, she just didn't know what types of urges these Nobles had. She figured she had better be careful until she knew more about them.
Despite the quick getting to know you, she found herself liking Nikkola. There was a warm innocence tucked away behind a wall of caution. Nikkola probably had never had a real female friend before having been stuffed away in this musty old castle.
Well she had a friend now. Determined to prove herself useful and a good companion, she laid down on the makeshift bed and fell almost immediately to sleep.
When she woke it was still brightly lit outside. Stretching, she wondered how long it would be before Nikkola awoke. She was excited to see what the old place had for her to work with.
After dressing quickly in loose linen pants and a red leather vest, she looked out the window to try to gain her bearings on the layout of the Keep. The window she looked out from wasn't centered on the yard, but she could still see a good portion of it. The stables stood off to her right, and a small squat structure that looked to have had the roof recently repaired was to the middle of her view. Furthest left was a small building with a stone chimney coming up and out of the left part of the roof. She was sure that would be the old forge room.
Grabbing an apple out of her pack, she steeled herself to face whatever people were beyond her door.
Opening the door just a crack, she peeked out to see if anyone was around. Neither seeing nor hearing anyone she opened the door all the way and walked into the hallway. If it weren't for the birds chattering away outside her window, it would have been eerily quiet.
Closing the door behind her she walked down the hall from the same way they had come up. It wasn't an overly cluttered place so remembering her way around was easy. Poking her head into the kitchens, she found they were just as abandoned as Nikka said they were. The oven and stoves looked in good repair, however, and should she need to cook something she would just need to come up with a good pot.
Moving back out of the kitchens she walked through the large Hall and out the main doors, munching on her apple as she went. There were no locks or bars on the doors, and the wood seemed new. If they wanted to make this place defensible they would need to look at bracing and posts.
Stepping out into the sunlight of the late evening Friesa surveyed her current view to place the buildings she had seen from her window. Directly in front of her now was a long building stretching off to her right. This was the building with the newer roof. It had windows with shutters and a couple of small chimneys, so she assumed it was a barracks or housing of sorts.
To her center and left she spied the stables. So, she walked past them towards the building she knew was going to be the smithy. The ground of the keep was hard-packed dirt, nothing fancy. There were a few shade trees that grew nearer the Keep itself, with the well Nikka told her about in the shade of the one nearest the main door.
She made it to the building she knew would be hers and pushed open the door. The door groaned on rusty hinges and scraped across the floor, pushing dirt and debris inward in a wide arc. Tossing her apple core aside before she entered, she left the door open to let as much of the evening light in as possible, so she could see her way around.
There were counters and shelves with a lot of small metal bits and pieces. A pile of what looked like iron bars was in the far corner next to an oven. Hooks above the pile of iron were full of moldy and rotten ropes, and some old lengths of leather strips. Not much in there was useable except the bars and the metal bits lying around.
The folks she now worked for would need to stock this place fully before she could produce much more than hinges, small bolts and locks, and snaffles for the horses. Remembering the ride in, she decided she could start on some sets of shoes, but not enough for all their horses.
Just as it was getting dark she found two tin lanterns on one of the shelves. Thankfully, next to them was a flint because she hadn't thought of bringing hers down with her. The oil inside the lanterns was old but it still lit after a minute, burning smokily.
Setting one lantern down on the center table, Friesa walked out the side door to inspect what she hoped would be a proper forge. What she found was a bit disappointing. There was indeed a forge, but it was in a very poor state of repair. It wouldn't take a lot to make it serviceable, but she would not be able to make blades on it unless it were strong enough to withstand hours of heating.
Walking back into the main room she was silently listing in her head what she would need to work in this shop when she heard a sound. Just a slight scrape of a foot over dirt floor.
“Who is there? Show yerself!” Friesa held out her lantern against the darkness of the room, attempting to shine the light on who or whatever was in there with her.
Eyes shone back at her from just beyond the reach of her lantern. Dark eyes that reflected light like a cat. They were so dark she couldn't see the white around the colored part, which as they came closer she found they were a deep, dark blue.
“I hope you are not here to take what little we have, Miss. I would hate to hurt a gal as pretty as you.” The voice was smooth but deep and rich and kept coming closer along with the eyes.
Friesa was suddenly backed against the wall and the eyes continued to close in on her. Just as they were coming within the radius of the light from her lantern, the intruder stepped into the weak light coming from the doorway. She gasped as she saw the face of the beautiful man in front of her. The iris’ of his eyes shrank a bit as the extra light came to shine upon his face. She was so mesmerized by his sharp features that she didn't realize there was another person standing outside the door.
“Tynen!” came a shout from the doorway.
“Mistress Nikka.” The man named Tynen nodded toward Nikka without taking his eyes off Friesa. “This girl has been digging around here. I came to make sure she was not a thief.”
“I am no thief, sir!” Friesa had finally found her voice, small and weak it was compared to the resonant voice of this Tynen fellow.
“Quite right. Tynen, she is no thief. Friesa is my honored guest and will be employed here as our resident smith. I would ask you to respect her as you would me. I have given her my guarantee of safety here,” Nikka spoke in an almost soft tone, as if she did not need to scold this man, but merely state the way of things.
Friesa could see the man's eyes soften toward her. He held out his hand and smiled the most beautiful and heartwarming smile she had ever seen.
“Mistress Friesa, then. I shall honor and protect you as I would the Princess here. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He waited patiently for her to take his hand.
Seeing Nikka nod to her that it was all right, she put her hand out to shake Tynen's. His large hand grasped hers lightly but strongly, and he stepped toward her as he brought her hand to his lips, firmly pressing them to her knuckles. From his mouth spread an odd soothing warmth that flooded her entire body.
Friesa suddenly wished she had washed her hands before coming out here.
He smiled again, brightly, as he lowered her hand, then turned and walked to Nikka.
“I shall protect her as if she were one of our own. Have no fear Princess, no harm will come to her from myself or the men.”
Tynen turned and winked back at Friesa then slipped out the door quiet as a cat.
/> “You have nothing to worry about from him, he seems quite taken with you. Tynen leads the fighting men we house here. So that also means you will see no harm from any of them, either.” Nikka walked into the room and looked around. “I am sorry I was late in coming out here with you. I was delayed by my father's guard and his insistence that we train later tonight.”
Friesa could see Nikka's cheeks brighten a bit when she spoke of the guard. She wondered, but didn't say anything about it.
Nikka continued, “And I insisted that we include you in our training sessions. We can protect you, but you will need to protect yourself, too, if we venture out of the keep's walls.”
“I look forward ta that. I did always love ta swing a sword, but ma father and brother would whip me if I were caught with one. They just wanted me ta get married and have babies. Good thing they never saw the blades I made! But that is the past, and right now I must be makin' a list o' supplies to get this forge running proper again,” Friesa stated.
Even with the scare she’d had a short moment ago, Friesa had never felt so free of her old life. And she was determined to make this life better than her old one, no matter how hard she had to work. And the interest of such a good-looking man didn't hurt either.
Chapter 6
The two riders came upon the abandoned village under a large full moon. The winter chill had just left the air barely a fortnight ago, but up here that merely meant that summer was starting.
They rode in, somber and quiet, only their horses’ hooves making any sound. The beasts were large and muscled like work horses, but these animals were far more agile and swift and much more intelligent. They carried their dark riders confidently through the maze of dilapidated buildings, never missing a step. If you were to watch them walk by it would appear as if the horses knew where to go on their own, as there were no visible signals from the riders.
Both riders were dressed in long cloaks that billowed out behind them like flags of war. The rest of their attire was dark and fitted in layers to keep out the chill. The moon shone brightly upon the metal fastenings of the horse's tackle, and upon the shiny dagger each of them carried at the ready upon their belts. The daggers were made of a blackish alloy, but still had a sheen to them as if they were just polished.
The hoods of their cloaks were pulled up over their heads, so you could not see their faces. But if they were to look upon you their eyes sparkled like lightning. They rode through the corpses of houses and shops like Death itself come to claim the lost land.
They pulled to a stop next to a patch of land that looked like it had been cleared of grass, and was now just covered in dirt from the wind. Dismounting, they stood with their heads down, seemingly in reverence of the place. But really, they were loath to come back here.
Yosan the Dark Horse and Hudreia the Firebard stood over the entrance to the underground room that held their Chambers. They had finally come back to the beginning of it all.
Hudreia lowered herself to the ground and cleared the dirt away from the surface with her hands. Her brushing uncovered five stones, red in color and smooth to the touch, laid out in an odd arc pattern.
She looked up to Yosan who nodded at her to proceed. Hudreia spread the fingers of her right hand and placed each fingertip upon one of the stones. They shone bright red as they recognized her, and the stone surface rolled back to reveal the cavern below.
Yosan dropped down into the cavern.
“The triggers have been set off. There has been someone in here since we last sealed this place,” he called up to her.
“But no one can open this, except the Three.”
“It seems that Mortul has returned for his Chamber. It is gone. Yet he would not set off the triggers, they would recognize him. It had to be someone else, but that is impossible. It takes someone of our blood to open the seal.”
Hudreia stood and considered what Yosan told her. As she stood in thought she felt a warm wind against her face, and she pushed back her hood to feel it fully. A crooked smile came upon her lips as she recognized the feeling.
“Mordred, show yourself,” she said sweetly. “I know you are here, still protecting these ruins. Why have you not left this place? Show yourself and tell me.”
The warm wind picked up in speed slightly and moved past her. A dark visage formed out of the breeze and quickly built up into the body of an older woman. The woman wore a loose dress and a silken scarf upon her head. Black and gray curls of hair threatened to spill out of the scarf. She clutched a staff with both hands, her bony fingers ending in bright red painted fingernails.
“Ah, Mordred. Why do you haunt this place still?” Hudreia asked of the woman.
“You know I was charged with a task from Mortul, who is now called The Patriarch by a thousand, thousand people. I was to signal any approach of the Enemy. And even though this place is dead now I still have my task. I have laid the groundwork for our readiness; the Enemy has closed in upon these lands once again.” Mordred's voice was deep but creaky like old floor boards.
“Then you know who has been here since Mortul took away his Chamber?” Yosan asked as he came back above ground, not seeming surprised to see the old crone.
“I do. Indeed. He was of Mortul himself, strong like him in both body and spirit. He is a key to the coming war. His bloodline is what our survival hinges upon.”
“Still talking in riddles after all these years. He was of Mortul? And what about his bloodline? Mortul is Noble and thus has no continued bloodline,” Yosan stated.
“That is where you are wrong. And we all had ties before the war, before the change.” Her gaze bored into Yosan.
Hudreia had taken in the banter between her comrade and old friend silently. Something was off about Mordred though, and she could not quite place it.
“Before the change?” She asked, interrupting them. “You speak as if you have experienced the change. You did not change with us, you have no chamber. How is it then that your magicks as a Seer have kept you alive all this time?” Hudreia looked pointedly at Mordred, demanding answers.
“There is a chamber missing. The Patriarch is a master spell crafter. Seek your answers with him, and you shall find answers to questions you never knew you had.” Mordred's shape grew smoky as another warm wind picked up. “South. Venture south to the villages of men. You will find him there, locked away from those he rules over.” Her voice carried away with the breeze as it blew her form into back into dust.
“That crazy old woman has never given us anything but questions to ask. Why did Mortul ever put up with her?” Yosan wondered as he looked off in the direction the warm breeze went.
Hudreia knew one thing, they needed to find answers. “She said the Enemy is here. If there is one thing she can be counted on for, it is her premonitions of war.” Looking southward, she could see the plains stretching out into forests as far as she could see. She knew in that direction would be the abyssal crater where they ended the old war.
The crater was full of secrets. Secrets they had never spoken of after the war. What they had found and destroyed there was never mentioned again after they rode away from that battlefield.
Hudreia was startled as she felt Yosan's hand on her shoulder. Not much unnerved her, but thinking of that place dredged up too many memories she had pushed away for so long.
“Let us ride south. See what our old friend Mortul has gotten himself into nowadays,” Hudreia said as she turned and walked away, mounting her palomino-colored horse that had dozed off. The nap it had would have to do until they stopped for the day. She snapped her hood back up over her head and spurred her horse forward. Onward toward the crater she had hoped to never see again.
Chapter 7
Victor stood watching over the two girls as they practiced tonight with real weapons instead of the blunted training swords. The yard was surrounded by torches and a bit too brightly lit for his taste, but the Smithy girl needed to adjust to the dark slowly.
Nikka paced in a cir
cle around the girl. She carried two short swords, one in each hand. She carried them lazily, but Victor knew better. She liked to carry the element of surprise. The smithy girl had not quite caught onto that.
Friesa herself carried two daggers. One of the long and curved ones she had shown them before, and her other was shorter but wide, double-edged and thin and fast to strike with.
Nikka stopped her pacing. He knew it was bait and watched as the other girl took it. Friesa bent at the knees and launched herself low and quick to Nikka's left side, bringing her shorter dagger in for a gut strike. As she came in close, her dagger met with a metal clang as Nikka had brought her sword up and stopped her cold with an upward swipe.
He had to give Friesa credit though, she was a quick learner. He watched as the girl flipped her short blade around, pommel first, and at the same time struck out with her goblin blade toward Nikka's right shoulder.
Nikka deftly blocked the shoulder strike with a quick dodge backward, bringing up her swords in an X to catch the longer dagger. But as she did that, Friesa dipped low again, holding Nikka's two blades above her head with the goblin dagger and nicking the Princess just under the ribs with her other blade.
“HOLD!” Victor cried before either of them could move. They strained to stay exact, so he could critique them. He would do this often, stopping them in mid-combat to show them the flaws in their attacks, the weaknesses in their defenses.
He walked over to the two of them and looked them both over. Nikka gazed at him, flushed from the fight. At least he thought it was from the fight. Watching her in action like this always made his blood warm up. This was the side of her that was more like her father. Ready for action, fierce and bold and confident.
He paced around them as they stood as still as possible. He took his time looking them over; Nikka straight and tall with her swords still in the X-pattern in front of her, Friesa with her long blade directly above her head holding up those swords and her dagger sidelong against Nikka's stomach. She had nicked her pretty good, there was a trail of blood slowly rolling down her front.