Bladedancer

by Michael Wallace

  What did surprise Katalinka, however, was Narina and Kozmer following the boy, leading Brutus by the horns. The goat was weighed down with packs laid across its back, and looked none too pleased to be dragged from his fodder and loaded up for the road. From the ginger way he stepped, it seemed they’d trimmed and reshod the goat’s hooves, as well.

  “It still looks funny to see a goat laden down like that,” Miklos said, “but before I met the bladedancers I’d never seen one wearing horseshoes, either.”

  “Goat shoes!” Ruven said.

  Kozmer wore a warm cloak and gloves and carried a newly trimmed, carved, and polished walking staff. Narina was also dressed for the road.

  Katalinka gave them a sharp look. “This looks like serious business. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were off on another quest, which has me curious, given that our enemies have been defeated. And why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

  Narina shifted from one foot to the other. “I only decided for sure this morning, and I didn’t want you trying to talk me out of it.”

  “Well?”

  “We’ll be joining the warbrands on the road for a spell,” Kozmer said.

  Katalinka frowned. “You’re going to the warbrand temple?”

  The elder shrugged. “Some of us are.” He nodded at Andras and Ruven.

  She glanced at the ratters, then turned toward Miklos with a raised eyebrow.

  “Ruven is clever,” Miklos said. “And trustworthy. Far more reliable and brave than you’d expect for someone his age.” The warbrand touched the crystalline dragon feathers still hanging from a thong about his neck. “And his father wants something better for him than the life of a ratter.”

  “The boy seems happy enough with his dogs,” Katalinka said, this time directing her questioning look at Andras.

  “The life of a ratter is no life for my son,” Andras said. “Miklos said I can stay and help rebuild, so I won’t have to leave my boy, and he won’t have to leave the dogs. Later, maybe, when I’ve worn out my usefulness, and Ruven is older, more comfortable with the warbrands, why, then I’ll be on my way.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” Miklos said. “You’ve earned it. The boy isn’t the only one who was reliable and brave.”

  “The warbrand training was my idea,” Narina said. “I was happy the others agreed, is all. The war may be over in the mountains,” she continued, “but crowlords have died on the plains. There have been fires, unseasonable frosts and snows. The next few years will be brutal down below, and the small people always suffer the most.” A look of pain crossed her face, and Katalinka knew she must be remembering the massacre at the village. “I don’t want Ruven—or any of them, for that matter—facing whatever comes next.”

  “So he’ll be Miklos’s student,” Katalinka said. “It’s not a bad idea, but what about this plan necessitates you and Kozmer traveling to the warbrand temple?”

  “We’re not,” Narina said. Her voice was flat, and Katalinka braced herself for unpleasant news. “Kozmer is leading me to the ocean. We’re going to cross the Narrow Sea. I am going to visit the land of the wizard monks to seek healing and understanding.”

  This rocked Katalinka on her heels. “Wait, you’re going to cross the sea?” She looked at Kozmer. “You, too?”

  Kozmer twisted his staff. “I hope these old bones survive the trip. I suspect they will, but you know how it is with old people. Liable to die at any moment.”

  “That’s beside the point. Well, it is part of the point. We need you here, too, but mostly, well, we need Narina.”

  “Kozmer will come home eventually,” Narina said. “He’s just being dramatic. Anyway, you don’t need me, not really.”

  “Do I have to remind you that you’re the master sohn of the Divine School of the Twinned Blades?”

  “It sounds so formal when you put it like that,” Narina said with a smile. “I never wanted to be the master sohn, you know. Should have been you or Abelard.”

  Katalinka wasn’t going to let her sister’s light tone distract her. “Nevertheless, it is you. You had claim enough before, and now look at you. Your powers are something I can’t imagine. You can fly through the sky, render yourself invisible, cast your mind across a distance, and heal yourself of mortal wounds.”

  “None of which are skills needed in this land,” she said. “Not anymore. All that’s left is the burden of it all, and it’s weighing on my mind. The memory of the people I slaughtered. I need healing, and I’m not talking about physical wounds.”

  “I understand that, but—”

  “That healing won’t come to me here. Across the Narrow Sea—that’s where our people have traditionally gone when our traditions, training, and lore fail us. The place where we go for deeper understanding.” She placed a hand on Katalinka’s arm and gave it a light squeeze. “And when I come back—which I fully plan to do—I expect to find the temple rebuilt and new members in training. You will of course have forged yourself a new master demon blade to replace the one that defeated our enemy.”

  Katalinka glanced around her. Only the foundation of the new smithy had been laid into place. Even getting the forge ready to make weapons would be a major endeavor. Rebuilding the shrine would take much longer, a process of years, she thought. The building had to be designed, a foundation laid, and the timber milled in such a way as to capture the natural auras of the mountains. She really needed Kozmer for that. He’d better return.

  Apart from that, the other fraters, elders, and students had shown their worth in defending the temple against the Great Drake. They hadn’t brought the demigod to its knees, but they had managed to draw its attention, to slow it long enough for Narina to deliver the final wound that had ended the war. Katalinka was proud of the way Bartal and the others had stood their ground in the face of an overwhelming attack, and thought she could build on that.

  “You have something to do before you take over as master sohn,” Narina said. She pointed down the pathway toward the post road. “It lies at the bottom of the canyon.”

  “The plains,” Katalinka said. “The crowlords.”

  “It’s beyond us to settle the wars once and for all,” her sister said. “But you can put an end to what we started. Maybe the demons have withdrawn their powers, but those men and women are still hungry for money and power. Several crowlords have died, and their lands lie open to conquest. Others rush in with armies to take advantage. All that war means more misery for the people living in those benighted domains.”

  “And you want me to do something about it?” Katalinka asked.

  “Stop the war,” Miklos said, his voice husky. “Stop the fighting. Do what we should have done in the first place.”

  Katalinka stared in the direction her sister had pointed, and though she could see little through the woods and the surrounding canyon walls, she could almost feel the land and its suffering, perhaps a residual damage in the auras from the wars of demons and dragons.

  Narina was right. Rebuilding the temple and returning to her isolation in their mountain home would have to wait, because whether they were responsible or not, a bladedancer sohn would be capable of setting things to right. Of stopping wrong and punishing wrongdoers. It would be a long, solitary journey, but one with rewards and great satisfaction.

  Katalinka couldn’t correct every injustice, but she could end the worst of it, and in turn that might heal her own soul of the wounds inflicted the day she’d been cursed to join the war.

  -end-

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