by Chloe Hodge
That was Ashalea in a nutshell. Caring and kind, like her mother taught her. Loyal and honest, as her father was. She had to remind herself sometimes that she was still just a young woman, but life had demanded her to be strong and fierce, and Gods and Goddesses know, she had paid in blood. She was about to inquire about Shara when the seer reached out and grasped her hand.
“Do you know what the worst thing about being a seer is?”
Ashalea just waited patiently, one hand fidgeting in her lap.
“Countless times I’ve gazed upon tormented faces, finding answers they would rather not keep. It is heart wrenching to be the voice of bad news, and yet it is my solemn duty to be the messenger. Do you know who wins the battles, before the last man falls? Oft it is the man behind closed doors. The strategists, the veterans, the runners, all of whom lessen the blow when the blade finally hits. For what else is war, but dead men walking?”
She sighed. “Such has been my life. To perform a service dutifully; to be the messenger that informs who lives or who dies, who is chosen or who is not. And I have kept my vigil for many moons.”
The seer’s eyes glazed as her mind drifted to some far-off place. She raised her hands, turning them over, staring at wrinkled skin and fragile bones. They had seen so much pain and misery, and any joy in her long life had been fleeting.
When she was young her future seemed promising and full of merit. She was beautiful once, and well sought after by nobles, regardless of her low birth. But then she discovered the gift and any chance of a normal life with a family and riches was forgotten. The greed of the townsfolk knew no end. They begged for futures to be told and shunned her when the outcome was bleak. She became a pariah, a witch, in the worst possible context. She remembered her life largely with sorrow, but she had also saved thousands of lives. Happiness seemed a small price to pay in the scheme of things.
The seer’s eyes snapped back to Ashalea. “I’m telling you this because difficult choices will need to be made when the time comes. Many will die, and your actions will move the pawns to be played. It is no easy feat, and no rewards will be given.”
Ashalea was speechless. What does one say in the face of such a heavy toll?
“I never did like chess.” She felt stupid for such a lame comment, but the seer grinned with those gapless teeth again, before her expression grew sombre.
“I believe it might be time to go,” she said suddenly. “But before I do, I at least have the small pleasure of voicing something comforting to you.”
Ashalea raised her eyebrows and scooted in closer.
“We both know the road will be rough on your journey, but you will also find more happiness in days ahead than you have ever known. You will find love on your quest. A kind, honest soul, a beacon of light to guide your heart. This knowledge is my small, parting gift to you.” At this, Harrietti truly did feel a small spark of happiness.
Unsure of how to react, Ashalea smiled and again, was the second person that night to thank her for her words, but the abruptness of her earlier comment nagged at Ashalea.
“Are you leaving us tomorrow, Harrietti? Are you on the road once more?”
“In a way my child.” She smiled and stroked Ashalea’s face with long fingers. “You are meant for great things my girl. Never forget that. Now off to bed with you.”
The party slipped into their cots one by one after lanterns were snuffed and the fire was stoked. Each left to their own thoughts, they dreamed of many things. Ashalea was the last to fall asleep, hearing the soft sobs of Shara eventually quiet and turn into slumber. She was worried for her companion, even if she didn’t trust her yet.
Then her thoughts turned to this mysterious love she was yet to meet, and her heart fluttered a little in anticipation. She had never known romance, only the love of family and friend, and she smiled at the thought of it. She fell asleep with a small grin, silver hair curled around her.
The next morning, Ashalea, Wezlan and Shara woke in unison, yawning and stretching stiff limbs. They set about cooking breakfast and the waft of eggs, bacon and vegetable omelette was soon drifting through the air.
They ate in silence, each a prisoner to their own thoughts, and after a time decided to wake the seer from her sleep else the food get cold. Ashalea was in a bright mood from her newfound knowledge of love and was humming away when she stopped cold in her tracks.
Laying peacefully, Harrietti’s wispy hair fanned all around her thin frame, and her eyes remained closed. If possible, she somehow looked younger in this moment. Less troubled. The worry lines in her forehead and around her eyes were somewhat faded, and she had a faint smile on her face, like she was dreaming of better things.
She was dead.
Interrogations
Shara grumbled as she threw the unconscious guard over Kaylin’s back. What a night. She’d been roped into accompanying an old man and his pet elf, and now she was traipsing through the woods disposing of some idiot who had no memory. Why bother keeping this mercenary alive anyway? It served them no purpose. She could slice his throat in one second and be done with him. But no, her companions had to be noble and wipe his memory. She snorted. Without her they would be none the wiser about the darkness’ motives. No one ever wanted to do the dirty work.
But that was her speciality. She smiled as she thought of a seemingly big bad thug, turned into a whimpering dog after she was through with him. He had succumbed to her questioning very quickly earlier. They always did.
“Who sent you after the seer?” She had asked, circling the man as he struggled futilely, bound to a wooden chair.
The man remained silent; his mouth set into a thin line. Shara studied him. His eyes darted, his breath came in quick bursts, and he was tapping one heel nervously on the ground. He was wiry, but his skin was relatively free from scars, and he had clearly never been in a situation like this before because he was showing all the wrong signs. She smiled. He wouldn’t last. New blood never did.
To his credit, he remained silent. For the first question, anyway, and Shara was just beginning. “I’ll make this easy on you. You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or I’m going to pummel you to a pulp, break several of your bones, and then you’re going to tell me anyway. So, what will it be?”
His eyes burned into her own, and his jaw set stubbornly.
Shara shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She punched him hard in the jaw, and blood dribbled from his lips. She jabbed his stomach, and then cuffed one ear, deafening the man’s hearing momentarily.
He spat in her face. “I won’t say a word. Not to you, Onyxonite scum.”
“Oh, we have a fighter. I do enjoy a challenge. You’ll speak, mercenary. They always do. Now tell me. Who sent you for the seer?”
Silence. She punched him again, two cuffs to the eyes, then repeatedly in the stomach. Shara drew a small dagger and began twirling it between her hands, swiftly clutching the hilt, then the blade, then throwing it up in the air, into one hand, behind her back and in the other. A party trick she learnt when growing up. She began to pace around the room.
“Do you know what Onyxonites do to murderers and thieves? I suspect not. The convicted ones never live to tell the tale.”
She eyed him off thoughtfully, stalked over and straddled his legs, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling his head back. She put the tip of her blade between his lips and gently opened his mouth, then carefully put the blade against the skin and the side of his gums. His eyes widened in fear and he sat deadly still.
She leaned into his ear and whispered: “we cut off their tongue and feed it to the Onyx Ocean.”
The man shrank in fear and moaned, tongue firmly on the roof of his mouth.
She removed her dagger and stood up, softly tracing his neck with the tip. His eyes followed her movements. “No, no, please. I’ll talk. I’ll tell you everything I know.”
She raised a brow, and he slumped in the chair, defeated.
“My comrades and I were in
the middle of a raid when he appeared. A shadowy creature, half man half… something else. He killed everyone, and then demanded we work for him. We had no choice. He and another man killed three of our men, just like that.” The guard shook his head in awe. “They were so fast. So precise.” He shuddered. “The creature had red eyes… And the man… He was robotic, lifeless almost. Like…”
“Like he had no soul,” Shara finished. The man nodded. His eyes held an amount of respect as he relayed the information, but mostly, they showed fear. He was telling the truth. “What did the other man look like?”
The guard shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Shara held the blade up again and he panicked. “Honest, I don’t know. His face was hidden by a mask, and he was dressed all in black. Come to think of it, he was dressed like you.”
Shara clenched as her stomach knotted inside. Only Onyxonites dressed as she did. Their tight black uniform was designed for stealth and ease of movement. Surely, it couldn’t be him? It couldn’t be her brother Flynn? But the guard’s description of the man did match what Harrietti had said... She shook her head. Now was not the time to get sentimental.
“And the seer? What did the darkness want with her?”
The guard spat more blood on the ground. His eyes had begun to swell, and his cheeks were going blue. “I don’t know. We were told to meet a woman outside one of the brothels at Maynesgate. She told us where to find the seer, and where to take her. That’s all I know.”
That was all she had got out of the guard. But it was something. Once she’d relayed it to her companions, however, things had really taken a turn for the worse. First the seer had told her she was a Guardian, then she had learnt that her brother was all but gone. From what the guard had told her, it added up. Whatever the darkness had done to Flynn, it had taken a toll.
No. To hell with being a Guardian. I will do what I can for Everosia, but nothing beats blood. I will rescue Flynn from the darkness, and the wizard and elf can damn well help me.
She swore as she led Kaylin and her sleeping cargo through the woods. What would her father think of this? She loved him dearly, but he had a temper, and Shara wasn’t sure what he would say to her becoming a Guardian. All her life, she had been groomed to take her place by his side as the chieftain’s daughter. She had trained every day for it. All the beatings, the combat training, the starvation, the torture and the poisonings… It was meant to make her a warrior— a ruler fit for a people proud and strong.
And it had. She was tough, smart, quick on her feet. She could endure pain and inflict it even better. She was everything her father could have hoped for. Only, she didn’t want to take his place as chieftain. Shara liked being free to do as she pleased. She liked the adrenaline she felt when on a mission, and she wasn’t ready to give that up.
Shara sighed. She would have to face her father soon enough, but until then, she would travel with her new companions and learn more about being a Guardian. Heck, she was one of the most dangerous people in Everosia, if this darkness was as bad as the wizard and the guard described, maybe she owed it to herself to do something about it. It could be a kind of challenge. Yes. She liked that idea.
But first she had to deal with this miserable guard, and then she’d have to put up with that damnable elf, Ashalea, and her do-gooder ways. She smirked. This journey was going to be an interesting one, of that Shara had no doubt.
Shara pulled Kaylin to a halt and grunted as she took the weight of the guard. For a thin man, he sure weighed a lot. She dumped him on the ground and smiled, amused at the long-dried dribble on his face. She had made a mess of his face, but that would clear in time. Shara gave him a resounding kick on his rump for good measure.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Shara scoffed as she hopped onto Kaylin.
When he wakes, he would feel very lost, and very bruised and battered, with no memory of who he was or why he was there. But he was no longer their concern.
Dearly Departed
A slight breeze brought the sound of wooden chimes as they swayed gently, cradled in tree branches above. It was dusk, and a splattering of sunset hues cast a warm light upon three heads, bowed in respect. A pyre burned before them, flames flickering all colours of the rainbow, ravenous and consuming. Leaves rose from underfoot, swirling in a great spectacle around the pyre.
As Harrietti Hardov’s body turned to ash, her Magicka returned to the earth and when all the dust had settled, new life in the form of flowers and greenery covered the clearing. The party looked around them in amazement, and sorrow turned to happiness, as each of them knew her spirit was free.
May you be happy in the next life. Ashalea smiled sadly.
Elves believed their souls returned to the earth when they died.Their understanding was that the gift of grace granted by the Goddess Enalia would leave their bodies and bless the earth with new life. And so, nature thrived as elves did, leading to a natural
balance of life and death.
That is what Ashalea wished for Harrietti, for she lived a long life in service of others, and a not so happy one at that.
While she remained ignorant to the abuse and cruelty that lay in the hearts of men, Ashalea knew what it was to be an outsider, and her heart bled with understanding for the seer. Her gifts were a blessing and a curse, all in one.
“The makers have blessed her journey into the afterlife,” Wezlan said. “She is at peace.”
They stood for a moment more, marvelling at the display before them. After the fires dwindled, Wezlan turned to the townspeople, who had quietly gathered to the side.
“Today we said goodbye to an old soul; a woman who walked the earth for many lifetimes. Harrietti Hardov was a talented seer. Gifted, and gracious in every respect. She dedicated her life to helping others, even when they turned their backs on her. The people may have abandoned her once, but as you can see, the Gods and Goddesses did not.”
He peered at the faces of the young and old; their expressions earnest and respectful. “Will you help me remove the pyre? Will you help me pay homage to her?”
The townsfolk stepped forward one by one, exclaiming in amazement at the garden before them. The men aided Wezlan in removing the pyre, and the women helped Shara and Ashalea erect a makeshift sign identifying the new haven as, ‘Harrietti’s place’. Wezlan was sure it would stay a peaceful paradise for many an age.
They feasted that night with their hosts; the kind Mrs Miriam Rillar and the honourable Mr Jundar Rillar. Mr and Mrs Rillar were farmers who dabbled in darker matters from time to time. Some local villagers suspected as much, what with the comings and goings of visitors all hours of the night. The Rillars were a little too wealthy for common farmers, but the townsfolk said nothing for fear of the consequences. One did not trifle with the Onyxonites unless they had a death wish.
Jundar had once been a General of the sovereign army of the human empire, whose ruler was King Grayden’s father, King Dilini. He had hated Dilini both as a man and as a King. During his rule, all towns and cities outside of Maynesgate had suffered under high taxes and lack of protection from raiding parties and brigands who’d grown bolder during his time on the throne.
He went to great pains as he told his story now, and Mrs Rillar patted his arm comfortingly. She shook her head and her ample chin wobbled daringly. Jundar was getting progressively more drunk, and he took a giant swig before continuing.
“A King who neglected his people, cast them into the dirt and stripped them of the few privileges they owned? Bah! Unworthy of the title,” he bellowed, sloshing his rum over the table. “What’s more, Dilini claimed he had brought peace to the realm, but this was a lie. His soldiers grew fat as they sat within Maynesgate, standing by in the years of peace following the defeat of darkness centuries ago.”
He pointed in several directions, as if the portly soldiers were present. Ashalea giggled, and Wezlan waggled his bushy brows. Jundar bumped into Shara as he swayed, and she scowled.
“Ar
mies from other lands rarely invaded, at peace with a treaty built on the premise of fair trade of goods and services. It was agreeable for all parties involved. It was the lies and shortcomings of the King that caused me to withdraw from the army. I claimed that I was ‘retiring’,” Jundar burped out a laugh. “A disgraceful exit, really. I was ashamed at the time, but serving an idiotic King was not high on my priority list.”
Wezlan raised a cup. “And rightly so. I remember the man. He was a detestable man and a terrible ruler. Let’s hope his son fares better.”
Jundar continued as if he didn’t hear Wezlan. “Dilini shrugged me off at the time. It’s not as if he was listening to my advice anyway. So instead, I returned home to Lillion, settled down with Miriam and embraced a farmer’s life, earning a few coins with some less conspicuous duties on the side.” He tapped his nose, sloshing the rum everywhere as he did so.
Shara’s scowl was deepening by the second. Wezlan and Ashalea laughed. Miriam just shook her head again. Despite the overly plump features, she was a pretty woman with a kind face. Obviously patient too, given her husband’s behaviour.
“It’s not the first time he’s told this story,” she giggled. “Being a General was the height of his career, though he wouldn’t admit it, my poor love. But we have the Onyxonites now. Who’d have thought.”
Though Jundar and Miriam didn’t meddle directly with the Onyxonites and their plans, their house was always open to them. So it had been for generations of Rillars. The cash flow was good, the soil was good, and the animals were fat. And since Yavaar Grayden assumed the throne from his father’s now-rotting corpse, taxes had been lowered and life was good. So was the feast they were gorging on now.
Stories were told and all manner of evil and sadness were forgotten as they drank ale and sang songs of glory and fortune well into the night. Even Shara’s mood had turned, having consumed a few cups of rum herself.