“I am delighted, and incredibly thankful, to be invited here this moon,” Eltra said. “Kallum is an amazing man, with unlimited potential, and his family and friends are just as admirable. I truly am grateful to have met you all.” Unlimited potential? What odd words to use, but the woman was odd herself.
“Let’s eat!” Kaine dug into his meal.
They all hooked in to their meal. Except Eltra. She picked at it carefully with her eating utensils. In the combined light of the hearth, candles, and lamps of the dining hall, Sonja could see the woman's features quite clearly. Her skin was white. Not simply pale, but completely porcelain white. She made Volk look tanned in comparison! No wonder the dark lips and eyes seemed so intense; on the palette they were decorated, they truly were. Her eyes themselves were dark, but not quite black, they appeared a very dark purple. Even so, her lips were painted a deep red. Her eye shadow was as black as her clothes. Was this the new fashion? Sonja couldn’t follow fashion, not that she cared for it. As long as she could keep her tits from bouncing out of the dress she had on, she would be happy!
Despite Eltra’s lack of enthusiasm for the food, the woman seemed quite pleasant and happy to dine with Sonja’s family. She would gaze admiringly at Kallum, gently stroked his arm from time to time, and always smiled when he spoke. She was odd, but she clearly cared for him quite a lot. They were two unique peas in a bizarre pod.
Meals disappeared fast, but not as swiftly as the four bottles of wine! Conversational topics steered the way they always did with Kallum; to monsters, battle strategy concepts, theories, and experimental weapons and armour. Everyone was enjoying themselves, and—faster than Sonja had anticipated—the time came when Kallum asked Sonja to fetch a bottle of lolligolp.
Sonja stood up, a little tipsy, but still sober enough to get behind the blade. She didn’t need to worry about that this moon though, everything looked clear. It was the future she needed to worry about. She staggered back down to the cellar, fighting an ongoing war with her dress. The dress won some battles, and her tits were given free roam to poke out into the cold cellar as she rummaged for the lolligolp. A good thing Rigst didn’t come down, he probably wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her!
After fetching the lolligolp, a careful battle ensued between Sonja and dress as she clambered back up. Tearing the dress would not be good! She did really well, and even managed to put her tits away before climbing out. It was a surprise that Rigst hadn’t chased her down, the conversation must be going quite well to keep him away.
Sonja returned to the room and prepared to crack open the bottle. She stopped giggling to herself as she noticed something out of place. Silence. Glancing across the room, she noticed Kallum was laying prone on the ground with his head in Eltra’s lap. She was stroking his hair, it had looked so good before, but now it was back to its usual mess. A single tear travelled down Eltra’s cheek, dragging a line of eye shadow with it.
“An episode,” Kaine confirmed in a whisper. He took the bottle from Sonja while placing his other hand on her shoulder.
Sonja began to tremble. “But, he seemed so… He was getting better? Wasn’t he?”
“I thought so too.” Kaine’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“I want to stop this from happening,” Eltra said, a hint of anger to her voice.
“We all want it to stop.” Kaine knelt down next to the woman. “Trust me, I’ve been watching this happen—almost every sun—for over twenty years. We just need to take care of him when it happens.”
Eltra looked up at him. She looked angry, as though Kallum’s father should have been able to fix this by now. Her face softened, back to one filled with sadness. “I believe that I may know a way to stop this,” she said in a serious tone. “I shall look into the matter further. But tell me, do I have permission to save your son, regardless of the cost?”
“Of course,” Kaine replied without thought.
“Any cost?” Sonja asked. They were in no way a wealthy family, but had spent a lot of what they had trying to find a cure. The Bristrunstium, so far, had found no permanent solution. The soothing elixir used to calm him was the best they could offer, and even that continually needed to be concentrated into a stronger formula.
“This is not a scam or extortion attempt, Sonja,” Eltra said. “I will cover my fair share of that cost, if it will save him.”
Kaine placed the lolligolp on the table. “We would do anything for him.”
“I don’t have much,” Rigst said, “but I’d happily pitch in a bit to save the kid.”
Sonja and Kaine both smiled to hear that. Rigst was a good man.
“It’s getting late.” Eltra gently placed Kallum’s head on the floor, then kissed his forehead. “I should go.”
“Thank you for coming this moon,” Kaine said.
“It was my pleasure to meet you all,” Eltra responded. She then let herself out through the front door.
Kaine moved over to his son, then picked him up. “I’ll put him in bed,” he said. “There’s still more stew if you’re hungry.”
Rigst gestured a palm out and bowed his head. “I’m well full, thanks for the delicious meal Kaine!”
Sonja walked towards the front door. “I think it’s time you head home, Rider.”
“Aren’t you going home? I can walk you if you like?” Rigst’s voice sounded desperate. “It’s not far out of the way for me, you know that.”
“I’ll crash here for the moons,” Sonja refused. “Thank you for the offer.”
Rigst slowly walked to the front door. “Very well, I’ll see you next sun, Captain.”
Sonja nodded with a smile. She went to close the door when she heard the noise of dry retching. Rigst gave her a worried look, and they both raced towards the source. Sonja almost forgot to press her arm against her chest. Almost.
Around the corner they saw Eltra, hunched over, with a pool of bile at her feet. Could she not handle alcohol? Or did the meal sit that badly with her?
“Eltra?” Rigst called out. “Are you alright?”
“Just fine…” She spat more bile.
“Are you sick?” Sonja asked. If she was sickly, that may explain her knowledge of medicine.
“No!” She yelled back. “I’m… bulimic…”
Sonja had no idea what that meant. She looked to Rigst, the expression on his face said he didn’t know either. They’d have to ask Volk what it meant next sun.
“Make sure she gets home safely,” Sonja commanded.
“Of course!” Rigst took a step towards the woman. “Eltra, I’ll walk you home.”
“No, I’m fine!” She then turned away and began to run.
Rigst looked back to Sonja. “What?”
Sonja shivered from the cold and lack of appropriate clothing, scratched her head, then said, “She’s about as normal as my brother…” A laugh escaped them both.
“Indeed,” Rigst responded, “They’re so very bulimic!” Did he actually understand that word?
“Just head home, and keep a listen out for the woman,” Sonja said, folding her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Even after being sick, I have a feeling she could outrun anything that might give her trouble.”
“Yes, Captain.” Rigst looked at her admiringly. He scrunched his face up, clearly longing to say more. He didn’t, instead, he swallowed his words and skulked into the darkness.
What happened to Rigst out there, and why was he behaving this way? Was Sonja being a little too harsh on the man? No need to think about that now, she had a full belly and a groggy mind; a good sleep would come to her these moons!
Chapter 5: Smoke Signals
Present sun…
Was Holtur cursed? Was Sonja cursed? Or was this all just one big over-exaggeration? Holtur’s problems plagued Sonja’s mind. Along with the fact her brother’s episodes were getting worse with every moon, she felt like she wasn’t leading the slayers to the best of her ability. If only Commander Maver would hurry
up and recover from his illness, then she could take a break and try to figure out these issues.
“Captain!” Bernard rushed into the Bartisan.
“Bernard?” Sonja asked from the commander’s chair. “What’s the problem?”
The man sucked in a huge gulp of air, catching his breath. He was well built—as were most of Holtur’s slayers—yet considerably older than his fellow warriors. At times his age showed more than others, still, he was capable of keeping up with the best of them in a pinch. “A smokestack has erupted from the west.” Bernard nodded his head in the fire’s direction.
Sonja’s eyes lit up as if filled with hope. “Rider!” She missed Rigst and wished he would come back from wherever he disappeared.
“I don’t think so,” the older slayer said, avoiding eye contact.
“It could be!” Sonja prepared her looking glass as they walked out onto the wall. Sure enough, in the distance, smoke was billowing skywards from the western ranges. “I’ll go!”
“Captain, you’re needed here, to watch over everything while Commander Maver is ill.” Bernard was still avoiding eye contact. “Allow myself and a few other slayers to go check on Knoch.”
“Knoch?” Sonja felt confused for a second. She had completely forgotten that he was searching the western ranges for a migratory shock wyvern lair. A job that normally belonged to Rigst. “Oh, of course. Yes, take two other slayers with you.”
“Who would you like me to take?”
“Whoever you want.”
“Captain?” Bernard now spoke with concern in his voice. “You don’t sound yourself, is everything alright?”
“What? Yes!” Sonja slapped herself in the face. “Apologies Bernard, I haven’t been sleeping much lately. Kallum’s illness is getting worse, and I’ve been worrying about some issues that may effect the town.”
“What issues?” Bernard asked. His aggressive and to-the-point expression calming as he spoke.
“You’ve seen a lot of Holtur, over many more years than I,” Sonja said. “Tell me, have you ever thought Holtur may be cursed?”
Bernard gave a deep laugh. “Some years are worse than others. But Holtur is Holtur. There’s no such thing as curses, just good and bad times.”
Sonja’s lips curled, not quite to a smile, but it’s the best she’d felt all sun. “Perhaps you’re right.” She thought for a moment, remembering how Bernard prefers to call people by their real names. That is also what Commander Maver does; no call names ever left his lips. “Take Arnis Cena and Theodoric Stotze with you. Also, take an extra horse in case our scout is injured or ill.”
“Yes, Captain, and don’t worry, I’ll be back by sun down.” Bernard began to walk away.
“Oh, and Bernard,” Sonja continued, “if you find any sign of those men Tequidi warned us of, keep well away from them. I don’t want any unnecessary bloodshed.”
“Of course, Captain!” he said, then proceeded to find the slayers he had been issued.
Sonja returned to the bartisan office, hoping some creatures would descend upon Holtur to distract her. She didn’t mind dealing with hostiles, as long as they weren’t human.
***
It had been a long sun, completely calm, bar the smoke signals in the distance. Bernard and his group should have returned by now. The sun was hanging low and wouldn’t offer much more light. Sonja stood up from the chair—a place that she had spent too much time sitting in of late. At least being in charge of Holtur’s defence, on a quiet sun, gave her a most comfortable place to sit!
She walked west along the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the four horses returning in the distance. Through her looking glass she spied; the sky was riddled with clouds, reflecting the low hanging sun, and blasting a pinkish-orange light across the plains. The mountains themselves were lit up mixtures of pink and purple. She followed the trail with the looking glass, up where it curved through the base of the mountains, and she caught a glimpse of something. A lone horse.
A sigh of worry crept from her breath. Why only one? Where are the others? Who is returning? Sonja hated not being out in the field, at least if she was out there she would know. Or if she was out fighting something else, she wouldn’t be plagued with worry for her fellow slayers. “Fuck, Maver, get better soon damn it…” she whispered under her breath.
Given the distance, it was impossible to make out who the rider was. All she was sure of is that—whoever it was—they were in a bad way. The horse wasn’t moving with urgency, which worried Sonja, as the horses seemed to fear the dark more than young children. The rider was bent over, resting on the shoulders of the steed. There was no chance they would get back before dark, and if the creatures of the moons got to them, they wouldn’t have much of a chance fighting back.
“Fuck this!” Sonja marched back into the bartisan, placed the looking glass in a draw, then marched back out.
Heads turned as she walked along the wall walk. Sonja had seemed drained since temporarily taking the Commander’s position. Now she was walking, head held high, tall and confident. She walked into the armoury, then picked up a crossbow and a quiver of bolts.
Sonja glanced towards a couple of nearby slayers: Rak ‘Bolt’ Bolzen and a new recruit, Bevan Enkammer. Wearing a black, fur jacket that matched his long, black hair, Rak was sucking on a cigarette and filling his lungs with shit. He was the quiet type, but also brutal and loyal. A good man to have at your back. Bevan was but a kid of fourteen; someone who needed to be shaped into a slayer. His other option was to die trying.
“Junior, Bolt, you’re coming along!” Sonja nodded to the two nearby slayers.
“Me?” the young Bevan Enkammer asked, worriedly.
“Are there any other juniors near the armoury?” Sonja rhetorically asked. “And, you are to only take two weapons; you have two seconds to make your selection.” Sonja left the armoury, making her way towards the gate.
Bevan’s jaw dropped in awe as he pondered over all the weapons. Weapons of all shapes and sizes: hammers, axes, swords, knives, bows, crossbows, and a heap of other tools for slaughtering the creatures that attack Holtur. “Oh man, what to take?” the junior asked.
Rak Bolzen stubbed his cigarette on the sole of his boot, then put the butt in his jacket pocket. He grabbed a crossbow, quiver, and short sword, then pushed them into Bevan’s hands. “Here,” grunted Rack. He himself already had his weapon, just one, his prized crossbow. It was painted completely black, crafted from the finest pine and steel, and decorated with sturdy stone wyvern fangs along the limbs and off the cocking stirrup. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch it. Rak raced after Sonja, then called back to the junior, “Come on!”
“Coming!” Bevan called out, while awkwardly balancing the suggested weapons. He raced to catch up with the others.
Within the courtyard, Volk was mesmerised in deep conversation with Raithia. Whether the two actually understood each other, Sonja did not know. She was, however, thankful to have someone to care for the flame wyvern while Tequidi recovered. “Red, you’re in charge until I get back,” Sonja said as she passed him by.
“Yes, Captain!” Volk gave a nod then patted Raithia’s snout. “You just rest for a bit, Raithia. I have things I need to attend to for a while.”
Sonja watched Volk race back up to the wall. Raithia seemed to have settled in just fine, and the Holtur folk had come to terms with the fact a flame wyvern could be domesticated. Well, no one seemed to argue against Raithia’s presence.
She was in the stables by the time the other two had caught up, and had already prepped and saddled three horses, ready to move out. Rak collected an oil lantern and used the flame of a candle to light it up. Bevan was being awkward, still trying to figure the best way to strap the weapons to himself.
“Use the steed,” Sonja suggested. She put the reigns of a medium-build, brown stallion into Bevan’s hands.
Bevan began fixing the weapons to his horse, then queried, “Excuse me Sonja, but wh—”
“Captain Sonja,” without shifting his gaze from his own steed, Rak interrupted with the correction.
“Captain Sonja, why did you say only to bring two weapons?” asked Bevan, who then struggled to mount the horse. “Wouldn’t it be better to prepare for anything?”
“Yes and no.” Sonja watched him climb into the saddle. Once he was in, she whipped the reigns of her large, white mare. It shot through the front gates and began to canter down the western road. Rak was beside her, atop his stallion, which was as black as tar. Surprisingly, Bevan seemed to be keeping up pretty well. Despite his seeming awkwardness, he was a natural on horseback. Sonja would have to remember this, being only fourteen, anything was still possible of the kid.
Bevan brought his steed alongside Sonja’s. “What do you mean, yes and no? That makes no sense!”
Rak groaned as Sonja slowed her horse down a little; enough to make communicating easier, but still keep a good pace. “Look at Bolt and I,” Sonja said. “I’m happy to use only my claymore. I brought the crossbow along as we are on horseback. Bolt doesn’t even bother with a blade, or any other close quarter weapon.”
“That’s stupid! What if he is up close and needs to fight?” Bevan asked, dismissing the time to think of their experience. Rak spat upon hearing the kids words. “It could mean his life!”
“Bolt has dead eye accuracy with his crossbow,” Sonja disagreed. “He could shoot a wyvern between the eyes, whether it was one or twenty-one metres away. He also understands that he isn’t all that good with a blade, bludgeon, or even other bows.”
“But different hostiles are easier to defeat with different weapons!” Bevan argued. “As slayers, we should master all weapons.”
Sonja sighed, it was clear the kid had a lot of experience in theory, just none in the field.
“Listen, kid,” Rak spoke up, “you’re more likely to master one, or none.”
“Bolt’s right,” Sonja agreed. “If you want to carry around half an armoury, you’ll never be ready for combat. You’ll always be thinking about the best possible decision, rather than running on instinct. In the heat of battle, you need to be smart, but you need to move naturally. Over-thinking the most basic of decisions will slow you down and get you killed. That is why I told you to only bring two weapons on this run.”
The Holtur Curse (The Holtur Trilogy Book 2) Page 5