by Tony Roberts
“I want to see whoever is in charge here.”
The guard’s lips twitched in amusement. “You’re a bold one, ma’am. Your name, where have you come from, and why do you wish to see the proctor?”
“My name is Dark Blade. I come from Kaltinar and am seeking employment. I wish to see the proctor to advise him that the bandits of the forest are no more – I have destroyed them.”
Faer could see the guards looking dubiously at her. After all, she was young, female, certainly not fully human, and possessing a horse and decent armour and clothing, something young women rarely did. She would be something of a curiosity. She took hold of a bloody canvas bag hanging from her saddle and threw it at their feet. “Proof.”
The guards took one look in the bag and grimaced, closing it and setting it down to one side. “Four heads – there were five in the group to our knowledge.”
“The last one fled. One man on his own hardly constitutes a threat. I think I should receive a reward.”
“If you had killed all five, then perhaps.”
Faer leaned on her pommel. “I was not under contract – I had no orders to dispose of all five; they attacked me so they paid for it. I only learned of their identity from the lone survivor whom I let go. If I had been under contract I would have killed him too.”
The guards talked amongst themselves. Finally they called for the sergeant who listened to their tale, Faer sitting impatiently in the saddle, and they showed him the four heads in the bag. There came more discussion and one of the guards disappeared with the bag. The sergeant went up to her. “Dark Blade, is it? Please come with me to the guard room just on the other side of the gate. You will be sent for in due course.”
She dismounted and led her mare through the gatehouse, closely observed by the guards. Their eyes strayed to her sword hilt, visible standing proud of her scabbard. It looked fine quality and had an odd symbol inset in the pommel.
Faer rested it on her lap in the guardroom. It was chilly but she endured it. She’d known worse discomfort in her life. She slowly drew the blade forth and examined the three-foot long steel shaft. Shiny, strong, forged in the furnaces in Keria, imbued with the powers of the best smiths the dark elves had. Made to suit the House of Owyn, it was one of only five ever made this way. It was a Royal Dark Elf Bloodline sword, and gave any with the blood of the Owyn clan extra abilities. It could channel power through it; if any Owyn blood touched the blade, it would allow a ball of fire to be loosed on an enemy. It would heal any wound of an Owyn wielding it if the blade touched it. It also drained anyone cut with it of their life force – the bigger the cut the more force was drained. Any so-called magic-using enemy would lose much of their powers if stabbed or cut by it.
It was worth so much, both in coin and by reputation. Being a half-elf and young and a woman, nobody would think of looking for it on her. Those who knew of such a sword would think it was held by a full-bloodied dark elf male in Keria. With the scattering of the Owyn clan, it may be assumed that the sword had been lost.
Not so; she had it. For sixteen years it had rested at the bottom of a chest in her house, and any pursuit of her father would not have come close. Now she was the keeper of it and used it to devastating effect. She didn’t know if she could defeat every enemy, but she was certainly better than most, even at her young age. The sword, combined with her training and her other powers, made her a formidable opponent.
She was still apprehensive, though. She was alone, without any friends or retainers.
You have me.
“Yes, but we are one. You and I are Faerowyn, two minds in one body.”
It is not one I would choose.
“Nor would I, but we are here together. We do well working together, and it has seen us through some hard situations. We must trust one another, trust in one another.”
I do – I know your thoughts. You are the one human I have faith in.
“I need you.”
We need each other. Have faith; have strength. I will guide you.
Faer nodded to herself. She put the sword away and waited with her eyes closed. It wasn’t long before two men came for her. One was a soldier; it was abundantly clear he was that, from the sword hanging from his belt to the armour that encased his body. The other was an official, a senior clerk of some type. He looked her over once, placed her in some lowly social category, then indicated to her to stand. “The proctor is interested in you; you will accompany me.”
“What of my horse and belongings?”
“Do you have a place to stay?”
Faer shook her head. “I have stayed at the temple complex before. Maybe I can find lodgings there again?”
The official looked her over and was briefly amused. “A sword-carrying mercenary woman? I doubt that very much.”
“I know a priest called Ghular. He was here when I last passed through.”
“Yes, he is still at the complex. Very well, your animal and belongings shall be delivered there. Now come with me.”
Faer stepped into place behind him and in front of the heavily-armed and armoured soldier. She gave him a good look. He was quite solidly built, about thirty years of age or so and carried a slight scar on his cheek down to his lower jaw. His grey eyes regarded her coolly and without interest. He was merely meeting her appraisal. She looked away and concentrated on following the well-dressed official.
Silence was the order of the day, so it seemed, and she wasn’t that interested in conversation for the moment. She looked at the streets, buildings and people as they went. The town was fairly busy and soldiers were evident on most main corners. There was not much evidence of any war, and the buildings seemed in fairly good condition. Portris was doing fairly well, if this evidence was anything to go by.
The proctor’s office was up the same stairs in the same building in the town square. She was shown through the outer office where she and Markus had been two years previously, and was shown into a wide and well-illuminated room with plenty of windows overlooking the square. The walls were panelled in oak and tapestries adorned the upper portions. She was impressed.
The room had benches arranged in a semi-circle facing a table set by the far wall. This must be the town council chamber, she mused. Seated behind this table was a man with a lined face, grey hair, a weary expression, and stooped shoulders. He wore a rich looking woollen coat with motifs of keys, gates and ships. The town symbols of Portris?
“The mercenary Dark Blade, sire,” the official announced, stepping aside and showing with a sweep of his arm the slight figure of Faer.
“Indeed? This is the fearsome individual who has single-handedly rid this town of the curse of these bandits?” He sat up and gave her a long stare. He didn’t seem impressed. “How is it, Miss Blade, if I may call you that, that you were able to kill these people when my best soldiers and hunters could not?”
“They refused to let me share their fire, Proctor.”
He looked at her for a moment, then at his official. The soldier was not even consulted. “She says she killed them because they didn’t allow her to share their fire.” He linked his fingers and shook his head. “And if they had?”
“Then they would still be alive.”
The Proctor frowned. “You would have allowed enemies of the king to live?”
“I have no kingdom.” She shivered at the words. Maybe one day, darling, came that ghostly voice inside her head. “I am a sword for hire. I owe no allegiance to any king, unless they pay me for my services.”
The Proctor gave her a look of distaste. “Yet you have the temerity to ask for a fee retrospectively for your personal actions.”
“Why not? It has saved you a lot of time and money, especially as in your own words you have been hunting these people unsuccessfully for quite some time.”
The Proctor leaned back. For the first time he addressed the soldier. “General Baskel, in your professional opinion, could this young woman have defeated these bandits?”
; Baskel nodded. “Quite possibly, Proctor.”
There was a heavy silence. The Proctor lifted both hands. “Then how? She looks too – ah – delicate to have achieved such a feat. No offence of course,” he smiled falsely at Faer.
“None taken,” Faer said without any inflection. Oh yes there is! Faer sent a quick retort to her dark elf side to be quiet. Pout.
Baskel stepped to one side and gave the half elf a careful appraisal. “Notice her balance; light on her feet yet always with her centre of gravity between her feet. A good warrior always has this. She is slight of build yet well-proportioned and moves without any effort. She has armour on underneath her tunic.”
Both other men looked surprised. Faer bowed slightly to Baskel. He was very observant.
The general continued. “Lastly her weapon. A shorter blade than one I would have, or my men, but it looks, from the hilt anyway, that it is of good quality.” He turned to face Faer. “Ma’am, if I may?” He held out his hand.
Faer slowly drew out her sword and placed it on her forearm. Baskel stepped up to her and looked at the sword, then at her. There was something in her eyes that challenged him. He stepped back.
“Her sword, General?” the Proctor asked.
“Ah yes, Proctor. This blade is well-made, no ordinary weapon. Definitely one that a warrior would wield.”
The Proctor thought for a moment. “Remarkable. I would not have credited her in achieving it. I shall send a letter to the king and see if he will permit a reward. In the meantime, please stay in Portris and enjoy the freedom of the town.”
Faer bowed. “I am staying at the temple complex.”
“Indeed? Unusual for a sword-wielder. No matter, I shall send for you there when a reply is forthcoming.” He waved Faer out in dismissal. The official and General Baskel went to go with her, but the official was called back. Baskel went with Faer and spoke to her in the outer room.
“Your sword, Miss Blade. Is it of elven manufacture?”
“Yes, General.”
“I’ve heard of them but never seen one before. I would like to examine it much more closely.”
Faer drew it out once more. The general looked it over, his eyes taking in every detail. He puffed out his cheeks. The light reflected off it. It lay there, gleaming, something dark and threatening in its depths.
Baskel looked up. “Thank you. I do not think I would be suited or comfortable in using such a sword. But a magnificent weapon nonetheless.” He bowed to her. “I would very much like to see you in action with it. We have a practice yard behind the garrison barracks. If I may be so bold, I would like to invite you to dinner and a sparring session.”
Faer looked surprised, then pleased. Perhaps she could find out from the general what was going on inside the kingdom. Bandits were one thing, but a general of the royal army was entirely another matter. “General, I would be delighted. I shall be outside the barracks at mid-afternoon watch.”
“I shall instruct the guard commander to escort you to the practice yard. I shall meet you there. Dinner shall be one watch after dusk.”
Faer left the building and walked across the square, shutting her eyes against the cold wind. The temple was on the corner and she knocked on the door as she had two years before. It wasn’t long before she was admitted in and escorted through the cloister and through the wooden door to the guest rooms. Oddly enough she was shown into the very same room. She found her belongings that had been on her horse stacked neatly in the corner.
Smiling, she unpacked, slipping the empty bags under the bed. There was only one item of furniture other than the bed, a single chest, and she placed her few clothes in that, with her boots on top. Her heavier items she put under her bed. She lay back on the bed and put her hands behind her head, looking up at the ceiling.
Her father had begun a path for her to follow two years ago which had taken her from the village by the sea she’d grown up in to Kaltinar. There, she had matured and become the woman she was now rather than the child she had been. Now he was sending her back to the village on the next stage of a quest that may have dozens of stages. No matter, she felt it was something she had to do; there was no way she could back out now. She had to find out what had happened to her father, Jarrodowen. Had he managed to collect his scattered forces and was he even now ready to move on the fractured Dark Elf kingdom of Keria, or had he even taken the throne and was awaiting her to come to him? Was he still hiding, waiting to be reunited with the Owyn sword? Or, she dreaded, was he dead and now the Owyn clan was hers to lead?
Was she ready to lead an army of dark elves? Could she do it? Would they accept her, a half-elf? Did she want to? She had to find out how she felt as and when the time came to know. All these things were big decisions and beyond her mind’s comprehension at the moment. For now, she would take things as they came and concentrated on the task now, not on what might come in months or even years to come.
A knock came on the door. She slid off the bed and opened the door. An acolyte bowed to her. “Cleric Ghular extends his compliments. He awaits you in the garden, ma’am.”
“Oh, thank you.” She strapped her sword to her back, even though it was against the temple’s general policy, and made her way back out to the large open space she had skirted earlier. The familiar white-haired, ruddy complexioned features of Ghular turned to meet her.
“Ah, Miss Dark Blade, I believe.”
“Cleric Ghular,” she smiled, walking up to him. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
The priest bowed solemnly. “I was confused with the change of name at first, but when the messenger informed me what you looked like, I knew it could only be you. You’ve grown, I can see.”
“I’ve become much more than I was before,” she replied. “My companion Markus returned almost immediately. Did you see him by any chance?”
The priest shook his head. “No I’m afraid not, but then those were chaotic and worrying days. Too much was going on to be overly concerned with one or two particular people. We ourselves did not know whether the new owners would destroy us or not, but thankfully since the town had voluntarily surrendered our conquerors looked upon us favourably. However, I did not hear of anyone resembling Markus being killed or arrested, so it may well be he passed by safely.”
Faer looked concerned. “He was trying to get back to our home village on the coast. He would have gone to Gorradan, I’m sure of it.”
Ghular shook his head sadly. “Not a wise choice; the city fell after a siege and I know there were many cases of retribution. If he was around there at that time, then he might have got caught up in it.”
“Hmm. The route we took from the village was not the safest and I’m sure he would have tried to take the sea route, but that would have meant taking a ship from the port at Gorradan.”
“Then all we can do is hope that the gods looked favourably upon him.” The priest nodded to Faer. “Please do not worry yourself unduly, Blade. Think positively – the gods may well have looked after him.”
“I so hope so, Cleric Ghular. I’m glad though that you are well. I’ll never forget your help in getting us to Kaltinar. Thank you.”
The priest shrugged. “I could do nothing other than help two young people needing my help. Besides, you both appeared to be innocents, not being involved with the war. I must say, though,” and he stopped and looked Faer square in the eyes, “that I sense a change in you. You are not the same person who I knew two years ago.”
Faer held the priest’s gaze for a moment, then nodded and resumed their idle walk around the garden. Their breath clouded the air. “I became a warrior, adept with the sword – this one,” she tapped the hilt behind her head. “I discovered much about myself and have had to learn to live with what I have learned. Some of what I am you will probably not approve of.”
“That would probably be true, although I sense that you are still essentially a good person. There is a struggle within yourself that was not there previously, a strong will that
battles with you.”
Faer looked sharply at the priest. “How could you possibly know that?”
Ghular smiled. “If I may still call you child – it is not an insult, it is merely an expression I use when speaking to someone younger or someone less versed in the ways of the world – my child, I know many things that will be beyond your comprehension. I am a priest because I have a gift of empathy, and I can sense things in a person merely by talking with them. Specifics, no.”
Faer hung her head, deep in thought. She made a decision. “At Kaltinar I was subjected to an elf’s special ability examination, and this awakened within me a darker personality, my dark elf side, if you like. Now I live with this other me. Sometimes she gains domination, but never for long, and usually at times of extreme stress or – well, drunkenness.”
Ghular looked at her with interest. “Very fascinating. Being someone with two distinct halves such as yourself is always difficult. Which society and culture do you fit into? Are you accepted by either? Do you feel comfortable with one or the other, or neither? I pity you in one way, but on the other hand envy you. To live with two personalities is difficult, and you will have to come to terms with it, or it may possibly ultimately drive you mad.”
“I talk to myself when I’m alone. Some say that is madness.”
Ghular smiled briefly. “Indeed. And do you get a reply?”
Faer nodded, grinning. “She’s listening now.”
Ghular stopped and stared at Faer. “Would you permit me to talk to this dark elf other side to you?”
“Here?”
“No – my chamber. It is best to keep this as secret as possible.”
Faer hesitated. “It might be dangerous – she is a little unpredictable, Ghular.”
“I shall be careful. I do not intend any hurt; I am merely interested in hearing what your darker half has to say.”
Faer agreed. She was just as interested in her other personality and wondered how Ghular would cope. He seemed a genuine type. As they made their way into the building, Faer told him that she was due over at the barracks that afternoon and then stay for dinner. The priest looked thoughtful, then showed her the way to his chamber.