by Billy Wong
Rose had seen the scar in a reflection, and knew that while it would fade, it probably wouldn't ever completely go away. The wound had been too long and wide.
"It's a just a scar," Lise finally answered. "She's still healthy, and alive."
"A lot of young men are going to want a wife with a scarred face," Rick said sarcastically.
Rose was quite aware of the stares she'd gotten at the long line along her chin, and knew she would have gotten many more if people had seen the wounds covered by her clothes. "I got scarred. It's not the end of my life."
"But Rose, everybody will know you were a warrior now, when you try to settle down. That's not very attractive."
"Everybody's going to know I'm a warrior anyway. I'm sort of famous." She'd even heard of her own deeds in Gustrone, and was a little surprised her parents hadn't here in Hullel—not a big city, but not an isolated country hamlet either. "There's got to be men who won't mind a few old wounds, right?"
"Yeah, well, I don't like seeing my daughter with scars," Rick grumbled.
"It happened. I have them." Looking at his downcast face, she suggested, "If you think I'm going to have trouble finding a decent husband, maybe you could teach me how to make a living without killing people."
He gave her a questioning look. "Hmm?"
"Teach me to be a blacksmith, Dad. I've always been interested."
It took him a little while to decide. "Alright, Rose. You're a fighter already, so I suppose it can't hurt to let you learn to fix your armaments too."
#
Rose learned quickly, mainly owing to the fact she'd paid a lot of attention to what her father did before embarking on her adventure. She already knew how most everything was done, except for the actual experience of doing it. Too, the story of her battles against Lennox and his minions soon reached Hullel, and though her parents did not suddenly decide to approve of her warrior status, they did speak about her deeds to everyone else with pride. She'd done well, and even she couldn't deny it anymore.
"So can you make a shield with steel, too?" she asked one day. "Like the one I had, I mean." She described her old curved wood shield.
Rick continued to hammer away at a red-hot knife blade. "Sure you could. It would just be really heavy, and take a giant's strength to use properly."
"Or mine, maybe. You want to try?"
He smiled at her as her mighty arms glistened with sweat in the firelight. The first time she dressed down for their hot work since her return, he'd been aghast at seeing her scar-covered limbs. By now, though, he seemed only proud of her great strength. "Sure, let's try it. If it doesn't work out, we'll still have something odd to hang on the wall."
#
Rose slung the finished shield on her left arm and waved it up and down, testing its weight while also showing off to her father. It was much heavier than her old board, and most people couldn't even have raised their arm with its weight. But she could still move with fair speed, and knew too that this shield would be an even deadlier weapon than her last. It was a nice little gift for her birthday. Why was she thinking like this? She wasn't looking forward to any more fights in the near future.
"It's a fine piece of work," Rick said. "You'd make me so proud, if you were a son."
"Don't I make you proud?"
"I suppose you do. But it never seems quite right."
"You don't want me to fight, I know. I don't really like it either. It just comes to me."
"Stay home, Rose. It won't come to you here."
It had come awfully close, the first time. But he was right in that Hullel wouldn't likely become a magnet for evil just because she was here. She didn't believe she was that much of a bad luck charm. Still... "I like traveling, Dad. I like going around, seeing new things... and helping people." Whatever regrets she had, the good she'd done was enough to balance things out.
"I understand. I used to be that way, we all did when we were young. You're just one of the few people brave enough to follow their dreams."
Brave. She liked that word. "Yeah, and look where it got me. A new house!"
They laughed together, and Rose felt happy to be home.
#
Though her contentment at being home with her parents grew until it felt almost as if she was the child who had left to join the guard, she wasn't a child anymore, and occasionally Rose considered leaving again. She wasn't unhappy but she was bored. She needed to go out there, to make a difference again. Even if she had already done a lot, she knew she had the potential for much more. She even wanted to go beyond the borders of Kayland, and see what wonders lay outside her homeland.
She finished making a new, broader and heavier blade with a bastard sword's handle for herself as well, before succumbing to her need to go. Dressed in chain mail, cloak, and arms, she announced to her parents, "I'm going to leave for a while, okay? There's still a lot more out there for me to see and do, and I'd like to have the chance to do it."
"We'll be praying for you, Rose," Lise said softly.
"Good luck," Rick added. "I'm sure you'll keep making us proud."
She nodded, glad they were at least trying to be accepting of her dreams. "I'm sorry if I'm scaring you, I really am. I'll try not to get into too many fights."
"Sure. We love you, Rose."
"I love you too, Mom, Dad. Take care!"
They all hugged, and she was on her way. She had only made it a few steps out of the house when a little boy ran up before her. Not recognizing him for a moment, she smiled awkwardly. Then she realized who it was. "Danny? So you're still in town." She noticed he had grown several inches, but after all that had happened she was almost surprised he had not aged into a grown man.
He looked at her with sad eyes. "I got nowhere to go."
Right. His parents were dead. "How are you doing?" she asked gently.
"Okay. You must be the greatest fighter ever."
"Huh? How's that?"
"I heard you killed a hundred men by yourself."
She frowned at the memory, and hoped she would never have to do anything like that again. The images of so much blood were hard for her weak heart to bear. "I guess I did, didn't I? But I'm not that great. There's better out there."
That, she knew, was true. Men like Prince Wilner of Coblan, who killed hundreds of soldiers on any day of war, and Prince Victor of Jugeld, who had driven away a horde of barbarians thousands strong with only a handful of loyal followers. Like Count Brandon of Resnick, the perennial champion of Kayland's tourney scene, and Jacob Greyhunt, the knight who had traveled the world and never found a man he couldn't beat. Who knew? Maybe someday, she would be spoken of in the company of those names. But she didn't care much for that. It would be unpleasant, the burden of having to live up to such fame—and the blood she'd have to shed to achieve it.
Danny studied her face. "Really? I've never met anyone with your might."
"The world's a big place."
"I never thanked you for saving me. Thank you."
Rose nodded, smiling as gladness filled her heart. Now this was what made it worthwhile to her to fight! And for this feeling, she she wouldn't mind the tradeoff of a little bothersome fame.
Chapter 7
Rose was bored. Now, she had grown used to days of travel, and normally was able to find something to appreciate on such uneventful trips—some scenic landscape, some little marvel of nature, even the shelter of her own thoughts. But today was drab and dreary, and moreover, she'd entered the Brushknoll.
The Brushknoll was the northwesternmost province of Kayland, all sparse, flat plains and nearly devoid of any usable resources. Dunwal, unfortunately, was located near its eastern edge. It wasn't a bad place, per say; that was more Coblan, the nation which bordered its north, a former province of Kayland which had long broken away and was ruled by the ruthless tyrant Prince Wilner. The greatest warrior in the world, they said.
No, the Brushknoll was just there, useless and largely forgotten except for those two great cities
near its edges that were its shining stars, Dunwal and the port of Efierd. And then there was the Tower of Verveem, half a thousand feet of stone left behind by ancient archmages long since dead. Of course, at the moment none of those were nearby.
She felt a bit depressed at the sight of the endless stark plains all around, when she was so used to the lush fields and hills of the lands around her hometown. While Hullel was a mining town, the surrounding areas were full of vibrant green in springtime, as it was now. It made her lonely, this bleak land, and she supposed she should feel that way more of the time. She'd lost so many friends and taken so many lives, and maybe only another monster could understand her pain. Despite trying not to, she did wonder if she could ever find love. She was such a monstrous brute, and heavily scarred already. What man would want a creature like her?
Arriving in Dunwal a few hours into the Brushknoll, Rose saw that it was indeed a great city, but in a different way than Gustrone or Seil. Located on the bank of the mighty Lucin River, the only large body of water in the Brushknoll, the city had no surrounding walls, and its most notable architecture were the wide, sprawling buildings and narrow towers of science and academia.
In fact, it made Rose imagine the legendary Old World to see the tall towers, like the ones supposedly used by archmages in the day. But that world was no more, and with magic gone perhaps the closest thing left was indeed the art of science. She did think the city could do with a wall. It looked awfully vulnerable to attack, but beautiful nonetheless. Her mood lightened somewhat as she remembered what she was here to do. She was probably going to have fun.
Rose intended to learn about the Old World, that magical golden age which had ended nearly a thousand years ago but still left behind many dangers of today. After her encounter with the shrub and the cursed bandits, she had grown very interested in finding out more about these dangers few faced and survived. Maybe she could become a protector of the world from such horrors.
She spent much of her time in libraries enthusiastically studying what knowledge existed of that world, as well as Old Script, the ancient language now known for the most part only to scholars and adventurers who dared brave the ruins still left from its time. If she did face any more threats from old times, she wanted to be ready for whatever the past might bring.
When Rose heard of a murderous half-man, half-bat creature at an abandoned temple, she did not hesitate to take the five hour walk there. A bit unnerved by the possibility it could fly, she bought herself a bow with an extremely heavy draw and great range. Despite her worry, she looked forward both to putting an end to its ambushes of nearby travelers and to checking out the ancient structure. Arriving at the site, she found herself before a tall, hexagonal building made of what appeared to be molded stone. She lit a torch and walked inside.
"Who dares to invade the home of Archdark?" demanded a raspy voice.
"Archdark? What a terrible name."
A tall, bat-faced figure in scale armor stepped into her illuminated space. A huge axe gleamed in the torchlight. "I am the black between the stars, the endless night. I... will consume you!"
Rose wasn't that scared. He seemed to be solid enough, and she expected that if he was not a normal man, she would still cut him the same. Hopefully. He charged, and she whipped her sword out of her back sheath to chop high at his head. To her surprise, he clumsily tried to parry, and unable to fully deflect her strike caught it on his shoulder, losing his entire left arm. He dropped his axe and screamed as he fell to his knees. Bright red blood squirted from his stump.
"Ah, damn... mask... couldn't... see..." He collapsed to his side and fell still. Rose knelt, taking the mask away. A dead man filled her sight.
"Who were you?" she asked with equal parts exasperation and relief. He'd probably been a common thug with a stupid gimmick, who used fear to help him ply his trade. His skill hadn't been great. She could still hope the temple was for real. Walking around, she found the dead man's treasure trove, surely stolen from the victims of his crimes. But as for ancient relics or great insights into the lost past, she recognized nothing of the sort. If they had once been there, time and looters had long taken them away.
She began the trip back to Dunwal a little richer but not much happier, and soon spotted an odd sight down the road. A large, powerful-looking man in a white cloak knelt on the ground, cowering from the verbal barbs and blows of a stick from a much smaller man in colorful merchant's robes.
"What's going on here?" she asked as she approached.
The irate merchant only continued to beat on his victim until Rose grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled with a powerful arm, dumping him onto his rump. "Now, what are you doing?"
"His dog spooked my horse!" he spat. "And what are you doing touching me?"
"I'm not inclined to let you beat a man to death." Of course, she wasn't sure why the big man hadn't stopped him himself. This merchant certainly didn't seem to be much of a fighter. "Get out of here."
He sneered at her, but stood and mounted his horse, then rode hastily away. Rose turned to the big man on the ground, as his large, wolflike dog came to his side and licked his clean-shaven though scratched face. "Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome. Why the hell didn't you defend yourself?"
"I was. I was covering my face."
She stared. "I meant, fighting back."
"I don't fight."
"You don't fight. So you get killed, instead?"
"He wouldn't have killed me. He would've left when he thought I'd had enough."
It was true that most people who initiated an attack with a stick didn't intend to beat their opponent to death, but accidents did happen. Besides, it was just stupid to let someone beat on you for something like your dog spooking their horse. Where was his sense of self-worth? "Not fighting back like that just makes you an easy victim."
He shrugged. "Maybe so. So what's your name?"
"Rose. You?"
"Brian. Good to meet you. Are you going to Dunwal?"
"How did you know?"
"Where else would you be headed on this road?"
She chuckled. "Nowhere, I guess. Are you going there, too?"
"Yeah, going to meet some friends."
"I'm just seeing the world, though I sure wouldn't mind some new friends myself. So how did your dog spook his horse, anyway?"
"We were sleeping on the roadside. His horse woke us up, and Fang here barked. But I don't know what kind of cruddy horse gets so scared of my little friend."
Little was definitely the wrong word for the hound, which must have weighed over a hundred pounds. Laughing again, Rose asked, "So just because the horse got scared, he was that mad?"
"It threw him."
"Oh." She helped him up, and they kept talking while they continued down the road.
Chatting about life and their past, Rose was surprised how long she was able to avoid the subject of her being a warrior. Eventually, though, Brian said, "Those weapons—they're not just for defending yourself, are they?"
"I'm not going to Dunwal to kill anybody, if that's what you mean. But these... yeah, they're made for butchery." Yes, that was the right term—butchery. What she did could be nothing less.
"You're so young. What are you, sixteen?"
"Exactly right."
"How many men have you killed?"
She frowned. She knew she'd killed a little over one hundred in Nienne, perhaps a hundred more when she'd been a mercenary, and... "Hundreds," she answered with a bowed head.
He looked away. "It's amazing that such a young and gentle-seeming creature as yourself could be responsible for so much death." Obviously, it wasn't a compliment.
"There's a lot of bad people in the world."
"Doesn't mean they deserve to die."
"It was them or me."
"Did you make it that way?"
Rose nodded. "But otherwise, it would have been them or someone else."
"I wish everyone could be a Whitestone."
"I'm a Whitestone. We all swear an oath never to harm another living being, and spend our lives trying to keep others from doing such as well."
He must have meant that they tried to talk people out of violence. "But what do you do if the people you're trying to stop turn on you?"
"We try not to let that happen. But we've had to run away a few times."
"You'd be better off if you knew how to fight."
"Things work well enough as they are."
She shrugged and changed the topic, and they returned to Dunwal. "Me and my friends are meeting in that one over there," Brian said as he pointed out a shorter tower with a pointed top just past the gate. "You want to come and see what we're about?"
"You're not trying to convert me, are you?"
"No one's a lost cause."
Shaking her head good-humoredly, she followed him inside and upstairs. While she didn't agreed with their doctrine of strict pacifism, Rose listened intently as the Whitestones, a score or so in total, invited her to sit with them in a tight circle and spoke about their ideals and goals for the future. Every member was immaculately groomed and dressed, men with neatly trimmed beards and women in fluffy headdresses, and among them she felt like quite the crude brute. She found herself enraptured by the faith in the lead speaker's voice as he spoke of eternal peace and brotherhood among all men. He was a young man perhaps a couple years older than herself, and she could hardly believe the maturity and poise with which he presented himself.
Then, they spoke of specific problems they wished to address, mostly such things as giving aid to poor and orphaned children in Dunwal and keeping the streets free of crime. Rose knew little about the issues at hand, but she could tell the group's intentions were good and sincere, and was often touched by the emotion with which they expressed their desire to help.
At the end of the formal meeting, the Whitestones broke up into smaller groups to chat amongst themselves, and Brian escorted Rose before the lead speaker she'd been so impressed by. He was leanly built and handsome with neatly combed hair, and his boyish face still bore a bit of baby fat. He smiled warmly at her, and Rose's heart surprised her by beating faster.