Blade and Soul

by C. M. Estopare

  ...though your loyalty comes at a price—you are the most dutiful person I have ever met.

  Reine's words from so long ago. In the carriage. The girl had complimented her. Had apologized and thanked her for her service.

  And what had Marceline given her in return?

  Death.

  “How long will it be until they die horribly because of you? How quickly shall their deaths come? Hm?”

  His voice was not his own.

  Marceline came to him. Towered over.

  Freeing her dagger from her belt, she squatted. Looked at him. Thought of taking his life. Thought of ending it right then and there.

  But something caught her. Made her furrow her brow.

  His eyes were mismatched. One blue, the other green.

  And suddenly—they froze her there. Her breath swirled in her body. Her muscles tensed.

  Behind them, the firelight grew brighter.

  “Are you...are you one of the Masters...?” she whimpered, her heart thumping inside her chest. Cold sweat sticking to her forehead.

  They've finally come to punish me for failing.

  Finally.

  Slowly, Florent shook his head.

  Shot his hands out from the floor and grasped Marceline's dagger by its sharp steel sides. His fingers bled as steel sliced through skin and muscle.

  With a putrid smile like one possessed, he drove the dagger into his own chest. Coughed. Gurgled. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth like tears.

  “I am the scourge of kings and queens. I am the destroyer of empires.”

  Those eyes freed her and she fell back. Caught herself. Let the dagger stay implanted in his chest for fear of him freezing her again.

  She looked on with frightened eyes. Wide.

  “And I shall be your end.”

  THEY LEFT THE ESTATE through its servants' entrance, at its very back. Wandering through a sea of untouched vineyards, they found a dirt road and followed it east. The moon rose. Fell. Deep blue clouds parted like curtains of thick velvet, revealing a lavender sky tinged with flashes of sky fire.

  A weeping horizon coddled them, brought light to their path as other wanderers began to litter the road. They avoided the gazes of strangers, looking past low hanging cowls of those cloaked and staring into the eyes of travelers' mounts as big beasts attached to thumping wooden carriages sauntered past.

  When the sun came to hang low in the sky, they veered from the road and dove into the high grasses of the plains. Finding a clearing, they set up came there. In the humid chill of a midday sun, they rested. Nursed their wounds, emotional and physical.

  Remy was the first to sleep.

  Marceline followed her lead, finding a patch of grass far opposite Remy. Laying down, she closed her eyes and dreamed.

  Fire came. Florent's strange words came.

  Mismatched eyes watched her run—darkness came. A curtain of midnight drifting to swallow all—including her.

  Far ahead, she ran towards Reine. The woman's arms outstretched—reaching for Marceline as she sank into bone white turf.

  Marceline could not reach her. Fire shot up from the ground. It flashed in a blaze of orange and white, and when it died—disappearing into white nothingness—Reine was gone. A puddle of her blood staining the ground. Growing lavender.

  With a gasp, Marceline woke up. Caught her breath. Surveyed the campsite to see Remy still sleeping. Ludovic gone.

  Far beyond, she listened to the gurgle of a brook.

  She stood. Dusted off her breeches and grimaced at the sickening feeling of dried blood painting her face.

  Maybe I should wash off—then I'll feel better.

  She followed the sound of the brook. Delving into a patch of high grasses until twisting oaks shot through the high green blades. The closer she came to the water, the louder the brook became until she stiffened at a sharp yelp.

  It was Ludovic's voice.

  She pushed through her final batch of grasses and stopped. Came to a curving line of water dotted by large multicolored stones, some gray others black. The brook curved and teetered through the plains, weaving out of Marceline's eye with a steep curve.

  To her right, she spotted Ludovic. He drowned his burnt hands in the water—grunted at the pain and sighed at the coolness that followed.

  Marceline prepared to walk back, but stopped. Watched him injure himself further.

  She glanced at his hands as he pulled them from the water with a splash.

  Marceline winced, they've gotten worse.

  At this rate, he'll have to have them amputated.

  Ludovic ignored her eyes. Stiffened and plunged his hands in once more.

  With an ear splitting yelp he slipped upon the slimy rocks he squatted upon and fell in, head first.

  Marceline raced to catch him. Threw out a hand and grasped his collar as he slipped and fell. His weight took her with him and she plunged in headfirst as well.

  She forced herself to keep her eyes open as she splashed in. Holding her breath, she searched for Ludovic in the clear water and found his hand. Without thinking, she grasped it.

  He screamed. Threw his head above the water and snatched his hand away.

  Merde.

  Marceline drove her head towards the surface. Shivered at the chill of the water and moved to pull herself out.

  “Wait.”

  She turned her head.

  “Look.”

  Ludovic stood, holding his hands above the water. He stared at his reflection.

  Marceline approached. Stood near. Looked from him to herself.

  She glared into her own eyes. Eyes like a cat.

  What have I become?

  The water had cleansed her. Forced her chemise to stick to her chest and lower body. Her breeches danced in the surge of babbling water. Stormy midnight hair curled around her face, slid down her back.

  She would need to cut it soon.

  Marceline slid her eyes to Ludovic's reflection. Their eyes locked. Had he been staring at her?

  He smirked.

  Ludovic wasn't the prettiest man—not like that knight—but he was sturdy. Scarred from head to toe, but resilient. He had a trustworthy face. The face of a plow puller. A king.

  Marceline returned the smile. Failed as the sides of her lips twisted.

  She wasn't in a smiling mood.

  “If it were up to Remy, we'd stay here forever.” he began, dangling his fingers a few inches above his reflection, “If it were up to me, we'd leave here immediately. Get to the fort as quickly as possible. Avoid the Champions patrolling this section of the country. Avoid their ire.” he slid his gaze to her, “And you? What would you do?”

  She swallowed. She didn't have an answer for that.

  For a time, she simply gazed into his eyes.

  Holding her breath, she plunged her head beneath the water. Let her hair flow freely. Opened her eyes and caught floating rocks. Smooth pebbles.

  She came back up.

  “Reprieve is good for the soul.” she said.

  He chuckled, “Is that a joke?”

  Her smile was crooked. A sneer, “It's a fact. A well known one at the Bann.”

  “You...could have easily left us at the vineyard. You knew—you knew there were Champions about, didn't you?”

  She wasn't one to lie. She simply shrugged.

  “Even now you could leave. Be rid of us and return to whatever you were doing before—with those vampires—why stay? We're broken. Useless to you. Why continue to follow us?”

  Marceline knotted her brow.

  He's right. Why stay? Why do I continue?

  “Remy is a...friend.” she said—uncertain. Her voice wavering, “And I don't take friendship lightly.”

  “Then you could leave with her. Leave me to die.”

  Marceline snapped her gaze to him, “I told her I'd help, and so here I am. Helping. This is my duty now and I do not shrug off duty, nor a promise.”

  His slow smile was soft. Genuine. Gon
e as quickly as one could blink, “And what about duty to oneself?” he questioned softly, “What of your duty to Marceline?”

  Her name coming from his mouth sounded foreign. Somehow wrong.

  She raised her chin, “Duty to oneself is secondary. Last, according to some circles. You, of all people, should understand that, Ludovic. Being a leader.” she smirked.

  With an exploding breath he chuckled. Cut it short with a huff, “Ah, so you've guessed I'm the leader of the Spears? And how did you come to that conclusion?”

  Marceline shrugged. Looked at his hands, “You are in immense pain, yet you put Remy before yourself. Make sure we're well rested. Make camp even though you want to keep going—knowing Remy isn't well and wouldn't survive the trek.”

  “You speak as if she's mortally wounded.”

  “In here,” Marceline sighed, bringing a fist to her heart, “she is mortally wounded in here.”

  “Most would not care about the wounds of the heart.”

  “Most, but not a leader—a good one. A leader would grieve alongside their fellows. Just as you are doing...” she eyed him, “...in your own way.”

  She brought herself up to her full height, “What you are doing for her is commendable.”

  “Merci, mademoiselle.” he whispered, “Aldric was a good friend.”

  Pulling herself from the brook, Marceline turned and offered Ludovic a hand up.

  A soft smile twisted his features, as if it pained him to do so. He thanked her again, but shook his head, “Your duty to others is also commendable. But do not forget the duty you owe to yourself, Marceline.”

  He shook his head once more. Turned away.

  “I'm not done yet.” he murmured, staring into the brook, “I'll stay here awhile. Heal.”

  Marceline nodded. Thought of leaving, but hesitated.

  “Merci.” she whispered. A crisp wind carrying her words away.

  WITH THE NIGHT CAME rain, followed by a gentle thunderstorm that shook the brush around them. It wet their clothes, their hair. The trees protected them from the brunt of it, misting them with fresh rainfall every so often. Helping them sleep.

  As night sauntered on, the moon giving way to a rising sun, they hit the road at daybreak. Amidst parting clouds and a sky as golden as phoenix feathers.

  Before long, the two citadels of Safrana came into view. Tiny cities dotted the horizon. High wooden scaffolds climbed up the rounded white walls of the western citadel. Its massive bridge connected the east with the west, shined in the daylight. Smoke curled upon a high white spire like a snake squeezing the life from a rodent.

  As the spires came into view, Ludovic veered sharply off the path.

  “We're two days out.” he murmured for her benefit, “We'll stop once more, but tomorrow we're double timing it. No breaks.”

  Silence came as Remy's reply. Marceline simply nodded.

  As the sun rose, hovering in the center of the sky, only to fall back down upon the horizon; night fell slowly. A blanket of deep lavender darkening into a vast ocean blue.

  Before long, the sky became black.

  They set up camp near a thicket. Rain still fell. The pitter-patter of drizzle.

  Marceline didn't bother trying to sleep.

  Across the dying campfire, she looked at Remy's form. She hadn't even tried speaking to her. Marceline had assumed that her words had truly hurt Remy. Scratched her deep down in her soul and took hold of her happiness. Killed it.

  Aldric was dead, and Marceline had told her to get over it.

  I wasn't given any time to grieve.

  Reine...

  Her death had been my fault.

  But still, she looked at Remy. She didn't deserve to feel the pain that Marceline felt over failing her charge. Aldric had freely given his life for their safety. The least Marceline could do was allow Remy to grieve. But she had stolen that from her. Pummeled her into nothing with her harsh words.

  What she had done wasn't right, and she wished she could apologize. But as they trekked farther east, something forced Marceline to remain tight-lipped.

  She wasn't very good at apologies.

  Remy sprang up to sitting, batting her eyelids. Blinking rapidly. She sat like a merperson, her legs curving toward her side. She turned her head. Met Marceline's eyes.

  Marceline nodded.

  Remy returned the gesture, smiling weakly.

  Is this my chance?

  “Remy...” Marceline called, her voice shaky, “I'm sorry...for what I said...I'm sorry...”

  Remy's eyes suddenly saw through her. They became glazed as she stood up, turned, and walked off through the brush.

  Marceline couldn't contain herself—she'd have to follow. And she raced off, tracking Remy through the low hanging trees and itchy bramble bushes. She followed Remy's deep footprints, eventually coming to a large blue tinted bush that shivered.

  Remy plunged from it. Tied up her breeches. She raised her head.

  They stared at each other for a while. Marceline sighed.

  “I'm sorry for what I said, Remy. I...mean it.”

  Merde, this is painful.

  Remy cocked her head slightly. Reared up her top lip and scrunched up her nose. Narrowing her eyes she lowered her head to Marceline's height, “Lets pretend it didn't happen. Lets pretend we never went to a vineyard—saw men commanding magic. Lets pretend what we shared at the Bann wasn't real.” she sighed heavily, “Kafka remembers what you did, Marceline. And once we get to the fort, I'll have to avoid you anyway so lets...lets make this easier on ourselves. Lets forget we were ever friends, okay? This way—I won't see Aldric's body every time I look at you. This way, I'll...survive.”

  “But—Remy!”

  She pushed past Marceline. Making her way back to camp.

  Her friend...her only friend...

  Marceline blinked once. Two times. Three. Opened her mouth only to close it.

  She followed Remy's trail back to camp. Found her place in the wet grass and brought her body to the ground. She lay there for a while, eyes open. Gazing at nothing but the dancing fire in its pit of rocks. Remy's silhouette in the background.

  Lets forget we were ever friends, okay?

  She closed her eyes. Passed out.

  Saw Reine again in her dreams. Mismatched eyes watched over her.

  She woke with a start, kept her eyes closed.

  Fire danced in the corner of her vision, lighting up her eyelids.

  How long have I been asleep? That fire should have died out by now.

  She opened her eyes to darkness. Fire playing from the corner of her vision. Remy's sleeping form was some ways away.

  Ludovic sat cross-legged. His palms concealing something that glowed. Orange, gold and scarlet. It danced in the palm of his hands.

  Marceline sneaked a closer look. Gasped.

  Fire.

  Dancing flames splayed in his blackened hands. The welts gone. Skin bruised red and rubbery, but holding flame. Fire.

  Suddenly—he clapped. The flame died. Darkness covered him. Smoke unfurled from his flattened palms.

  Marceline gasped—rolled over. Slid a hand over her mouth.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Marceline

  They climbed the same blue mountains Marceline had seen from far away and long ago, standing on those white chateau parapets with her fellow Agents in Safrana.

  Ghyslain appeared from the mist. He assumed I was a dwarf.

  And she found herself chuckling. Then, gasping. Gawking at the sight of a massive fortress of bone-white stone sitting on a flattened mountaintop.

  The view was panoramic. Mist fled up the rugged mountainside, collecting at the high stone walls of the stalwart fortress. Painting them a translucent white. Gossamer assailing its high parapets and thick walls of stone.

  The fortress stretched over a gaping gap in the mountain, a sturdy bridge topped with slowly moving silhouettes and tower fires connected one cylindrical side of the fortress to the other, larger, more fearso
me side.

  Slipping on black leather gloves, Ludovic wiggled his fingers. Turned to Marceline and followed the panoramic view with his arm. Sliding it across the expanse.

  “Fort Endure.” he simply said, chuckling at her surprised silence.

  The view was breathtaking.

  Sturdy stone towers stood watch over them as the three approached the fortress's towering oval entrance cut into thick stone. An iron portcullis barred their entry. From up above, two armored soldiers stared down from the high parapets of the watch towers with tall halberds in hand.

  Ludovic smiled up at them. Crossed his arms. They waited.

  “It's Ludovic—the Soliel is back!”

  “Open the gates—call the commander!”

  They saluted, their armaments clinking.

  The portcullis rattled. Groaned as it began to tremble.

  Slowly, the gate of iron let up.

  “Welcome back, sir!” one man called down.

  “Glad to be in one piece!” Ludovic called up. Waved and swept beneath the rising portcullis.

  Marceline and Remy followed suit, a long silent space between the two of them.

  A vast courtyard of sprawling green and gray met them. Along with an explosion of clamor; steel clashing upon steel with a thousand mighty clinks ringing at random, young men chasing clucking chickens through the green, men hollering out orders as massive horses galloped through the courtyard, wagons heavy with soil attached to their hindquarters. A massive party of men trained upon the cobbles of the courtyard, while others went about their daily lives.

  Ludovic took in the scene with a large smile.

  Marceline, with straight lips.

  It was a lot for her. The Bann was quiet. Orderly. Even the Safranian court had its moments of silence and reprieve. She scanned the grounds, her eyes roving up high stone walls, the undulating sea of people and animals. Soldiers training. Men wearing stifling armor.

  Behind her, the portcullis closed with a slam.

  She thought of slipping under it.

  “Remy, you're released.” Ludovic called over his shoulder, “Send Kafka my regards.”