A Matter of Blood Pt. 02

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CHAPTER FOUR

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I arrived in Sondres in less than a week, a little before the sun rose. I stunk, my beard was growing out, and I was hungry. I had stolen some clothes hanging on a washer woman's line and replaced them with my old ones, which were worn, but still relatively fine, save for some stab wounds. Finding water had been no issue. I had no bow with which to hunt, however, and was not precise enough for invocations to replace it, so I had traded my labor for food at inns, chopping wood, drawing water, and in one case, cleaning out the stables. I was not eager to repeat that particular task. In any case, I was eating, but generally only one meal a day, so I knew that I needed to find some kind of steady source of funds.

Once I arrived I continued down to the docks, remembering from a trip some years ago that they were always looking for strong backs to load and unload the ships. I was still in fairly good shape, especially after Raisa's healing, and I had the advantage of magic.

It would have been dangerous to show off powerful invocations as they would be a dead giveaway of my Pureblood status, but thankfully, I had no such abilities, and my hair had never changed. That being said, a few freshly trained mages arrived in a city like Sondres each day. Some made their way in the arts of war, others became laborers, functioning as living cranes or carts that could quickly and precisely manipulate cargos. I was hoping for employment as the latter.

Once I arrived I found a dock master who needed such help and negotiated for a day's work. Being the son of nobility my understanding of the value of things was, I will admit, limited, so I was probably underpaid. I knew it would enough for food and a room, so I did not complain.

As the day passed, I got the hang of things, slowly levitating crates and pallets that would have needed large numbers of men or slow cranes to move. My skills were not extraordinary in this regard, but as far as I could tell from what my fellow workers said there were only two other mages who bothered with this kind of thing, and one of them was elsewhere. Most preferred to sign on with the courts of lesser nobles or one of the mercenary companies fighting in the never-ending war across the sea.

By the mid-afternoon, I noticed that I was being watched. She wasn't being subtle about it. She was tall, and well-muscled, although still obviously feminine, tanned with thick black hair shorn shorter than mine. She wore a sleeveless shirt, leather pants that looked to be some kind of armor, and soldier's boots. By the intent way that she watched me placing crates I knew that she intended to hire me or bed me. Maybe both.

As I stopped for a moment, she approached me and slapped me on the back, affably. I wasn't offended, but I was surprised. That seemed to be a good way to start a fight in a place like this.

On the other hand she seemed as though she would have no trouble winning fights.

Up close I could see that her nose had the shape that only came from being broken a few times, and her rough features were scarred, although she was, in my mind, still attractive, no one would ever call her pretty.

"That's some nice work. How long have you been at it?"

"Uh," I said, wondering if I should tell the truth, "I really just started today."

"No, I meant how long have you been doing this uninterrupted? Without a break?"

I hadn't given it much thought but the truth was that I hadn't taken one.

"I guess since daybreak," I said, and her eyebrows raised in surprise. I wondered if I had perhaps said too much.

"Well, this crook," she said, gesturing to the dockmaster, who I noted was within earshot, "will work you and pay you nothing for your trouble. I'll give you a contract with my company. Mostly it will be things like this, but if you know any battle magic then you'll get a hefty raise right off."

I gave it some serious thought. At that time however, leaving for the continent was not what I wanted. I could better achieve my aims by remaining here, earning money, and planning.

"I don't think that's where I'm heading. But thank you."

"Well, if you change your mind, come down to The Dead Archer. That's where we're recruiting. We're going to be leaving in a week, so don't dawdle," she walked off, shouting over her shoulder, "You're wasted here!"

I laughed at her audacity and finished my task. Although the dockmaster had provided water and some stale bread throughout the day, I was hungry, thirsty, and tired. I knew that I had enough for room and board with a little left over. Maybe I could even hit the baths. It was a good day.

When it occurred to me how different my definition of "a good day" was from a week ago, I did get a little depressed. As I walked, I noted some kids running past me, towards the center of the city. That was where our family had what they called the "Winter Palace". It was also where father tended to rule in times of crisis or war, assuming things were going well.

"The prince is here!" one of the children shouted. I panicked for a moment, until I realized that they were almost certainly referring to Tyr.

What would he be doing here? Was there going to be an announcement of some kind? Would my mother or Merwyd be here? I decided to take the small risk of exposure for the opportunity to gather information. Although I wouldn't admit it to myself, the chance to glimpse the woman that I loved was also foremost in my mind. If she was here, perhaps I could even get her a message.

As it turns out, she was.

I arrived at the plaza to the type of carnival atmosphere that always accompanied royal proclamations and important executions. Vendors sold a variety of dubious street food and I shamelessly ate two sweet rolls and some unidentifiable roasted meat while I waited with the rest of the masses.

The palace itself stood squat with a single, large square tower. There was an ornate balcony from which such announcements were made. The building itself was decorated with colorful blue and gold banners, with the royal wyvern seal upon them. They looked rather new.

I saw them as soon as they stepped out of the door onto the balcony where I had stood in the past. My father, Uncle Bayrd, mother, and aunts. And of course Tyr and Merwyd. There was something in how she stood which filled my stomach with foreboding.

It was the fear. Or rather, the total lack of it. She was relaxed. Happy. I suppose that she could have been acting. It would have made sense. But I knew her very well, or at least I thought I did, and she appeared completely natural to me.

Father stepped forward, which meant he would be speaking. That made this serious. I saw him make the gesture and say the words that would amplify his voice and make him able to be heard in the plaza. In fact, he was powerful enough that he could be heard through much of the city.

"Loyal and gracious subjects, I speak to you of grave matters. There has been attempted assassination, from within my own house..."

Oh, for fuck's sake. It made sense that I would be made out to be the villain, but the question was, did they truly believe it?

"In the past week, my youngest son, who's name shall not be spoken here, attempted to murder my heir in a sacred space. He failed, and for his crimes was cast down from the tower by his intended victim. While I grieve his death and more importantly, utter moral failure, all traces of his rebellion have been stamped out, and the remaining family have joined together in unison..."

I took an additional risk and used magic of my own. It was very simple, and the only sign was my eyes shifting color continuously, but it was possible that a member of my family could have detected it. It was a very simple cantrip that enabled me to see detail at long distances at the cost of my peripheral vision. While father droned on, I examined the faces and posture of my family. Specifically the women I loved. Those who were the last I saw before my fateful meeting.

My mother was a skilled political operator, and could make her face a mask. But I knew her, and could see signs of some tension in the way that she held herself. There was, however, no sadness, no grief. Her eyes were at peace and were not red with tears. And for all the love she claimed to have for me, she most likely loved her brother the king, even more. Besides, she was young enough to have other children. Hadn't she, after all, led me personally to my ambush?

Merwyd was, if anything, worse. Well, I say worse, but her expression was one of excitement. Nearly joy. She showed no signs at all of uncertainty at being here on display. I saw the easy familiarity with which her arm suddenly wrapped itself around Tyr and the picture was complete. Wasn't there a look of worry on her face right before she left me to my mother? How much had she known, really? And she wore not even one item of mourning. None of them did. My father's words suddenly brought me back to reality.

"...this is why my heir and his betrothed have been married, in secret. The line must be protected for the security of the nation and my subjects."

At that, there was a great deal of cheering. My brother and Merwyd held hands, and rather spontaneously, it seemed, kissed, before they faced the crowd and waved, his arm over her shoulders in a territorial fashion. She leaned into him, beaming her brightest smile. I saw it all with crystal clarity. If she was acting, it was better than I had ever seen. At least father and mother looked serious, unhappy to have had to make the first announcement. The only one who looked genuinely disgusted with the whole affair was my uncle.

It made sense, we'd always gotten along, both of us being youngest sons. We'd frequently drank together and mocked the hypocrisy of our relatives. He had no children, so I was probably the closest thing to one that he would ever have.

Tyr, of course, was thrilled. He'd gotten everything he wanted. But he could have had that without murdering me. I was still at a loss as to why that was necessary.

Even so, the mystery of my political fall and attempted murder were of far less import to me than Merwyd. She was the First Wife of the heir apparent. That came with huge amounts of prestige and power. She was, obviously, quite pleased with her new status. This left no more time to grieve the man who, a week ago, she had promised to love. Assuming that she hadn't been lying.

I wasn't surprised at my sadness, nor the deep wave of loss that I felt wash over me. This was the first time that my heart had truly been broken, and in truth it was shattered. I felt numb, and then rage filled me. I was shocked by its intensity, its heat. If someone had spoken to me at that moment I may have killed them simply because I lacked the control to do otherwise. It passed swiftly, but I felt it there, lurking, a new part of my ever changing internal world.

I don't remember leaving the plaza. I wandered in a daze for a few hours. I had made a decision, but I don't remember that either. My next memory is looking up and seeing the sign of the Dead Archer. I went in.

It was a bawdy den of drink, gambling, and women of negotiable virtue. Currently, every ancient table and cracked bench was packed, and most of them looked like soldiers. I paid attention to their details. Their gear was not uniform, but nearly all of it was in good shape, and decent quality. Better than you would see in the official army of my father's kingdom, to be sure. They tended to be big, and older than raw recruits. I saw my admirer from before, sitting in the back of the inn with two others who must be her subordinates. She was speaking and both of them were listening attentively, nodding. One occasionally wrote something on scraps of paper with a charcoal stylus.

I walked to her table, but stayed respectfully distant. She could see me but I couldn't really eavesdrop from here. After a few more minutes she dismissed the two people there and waved me over. I sat on the other side of the table from her. The bench was surprisingly comfortable, having an ass groove worn in it from years if not decades of use. It smelled like decades.

"Keena, get my friend here some ale and mutton. You like mutton don't you?" I did but she didn't give me time to answer, "I'm Parla. You might have heard of me." She extended her hand to shake. I did so.

I realized rather belatedly that I couldn't give her my real name. Finn wasn't that uncommon but someone, sooner or later, would recognize it. So I gave her the name of an ancestor who had been something of a mercenary captain himself.

"I'm Seath. Its good to meet you although I'm afraid that I do not recognize your name. My plans here in Sondres fell through and I thought that I might see what you were offering."

She laughed.

"Your woman left you, did she? You have that look about you. The broken-hearted make good recruits. Don't feel bad. I'm only here because I got left at the altar."

I had a hard time seeing her as a blushing bride. I was a little shocked that she read me that easily, but I guess you had to be smart to run a successful mercenary company.

"Well, Parla, tell me what you're offering. I'm interested but I need to be making enough for it to be worth the risk."

Parla considered me, her eyes suddenly sharp. She was evaluating me, but I wasn't sure how.

"You have the look of someone who's spent a little time soldiering to me. Can you kill or do you just lift crates and such?"

"I can kill. Several ways. I'm no healer, though I can do a little of that too. I know how to arrow shield." I added the last bit as an afterthought, remembering how much my men appreciated that on patrol.

"Show me something."

"You want me to kill someone?" I said, smirking.

"Well, you probably shouldn't," she pointed to a tankard in front of another woman, who looked a little like Parla but was taller, "Can you do something to that? Something impressive?"

It was only about fifteen feet away so I was comfortable with my precision. I pointed at it and spoke a word of power. It was honestly among the most basic of war magics, called the Arrow of Light. A brief pulse of blue luminescence extended from my finger to the tankard, which splintered and flew. Ale went everywhere.

I had honestly only intended to knock it over. The extra force startled me. Luckily no one noticed as the now ale-covered woman jumped up.

"GOD DAMMIT PARLA!" she bellowed, not even bothering to blame me. I got the feeling that this was part of a long standing tradition.

Parla, for her part was buckled over laughing. The larger woman stormed outside, cursing a storm. Everyone got out of her way.

"That's Sari, my sister," Parla said, wiping her eyes, "pay her no mind. She'll get me back soon."

After a moment of thinking, she continued, more seriously.

"That was powerful. A stronger Arrow than I've ever seen. Would have split a skull I think, even in a helmet."

I nodded, trying to look casual.

"Wouldn't be much point using it if it didn't work. I can also produce gouts of flame and do some blood freezing. To be honest, killing isn't my best art."

"Well, its enough. Can you read?"

"Yes, and write passably. My teacher insisted."

She smiled widely and put a bag in front of me. It clinked impressively. I peeked inside and there was a good sum, far more than I could have made in months of dock work. I raised my eyebrows.

"You're my new adjutant. Don't worry, it's not hard, although it is dangerous. When we aren't fighting you write down what I say and keep records. When we are fighting you stay near me protect as many people as you can. When you're not doing that, you kill. Sound good?"

"Yes," I agreed immediately. I should probably have taken some time to think it over, but I didn't really care if I died at that moment and I wanted to get as far away from my hated family. This would work.

My food came, I ate and drank, Parla told jokes. She was honestly pretty funny. By the time I was done eating I realized that I was exhausted. She noticed and waved at a twig of a girl that I'd seen darting around tables.

"Bartles! Take our new recruit to a room. He gets his own," she said, then looked back at me with a rakish smile, "Get some sleep. Your new life is going to be pretty dull with brief periods of terror. Welcome to the Company of the Three Sisters. You're going to love it."

The shocking thing was that I did.

* * *

Three Weeks Later

We'd been on the continent for less than three days and we were already in the shit.

I'm not going to tell you the story of the War of the Three Heirs. Every damn worthless historian has told it so many times, but somehow they always leave out the mud and the blood. There was a lot of both. The peasants died of starvation and fire and magic. The Kingdom of Vorchante groaned under endless violence and rapine. The joke became that villages were simply graveyards that hadn't been dug yet. It was ugly.

We'd unloaded our thousand men at Troyes and immediately been hired by the youngest heir, Portismunde, who was at this point losing quite badly. He put a lot gold into Parla's pocket and we were marching immediately for the main body of the army, where a series of intense battles were taking place. Unfortunately, along the way we ran into another heir's reinforcements. I never found out which one. Just that they were raw mercs and they had more than three thousand troops.

We were more experienced and tougher, they had more men, but neither of us had any tactical advantage as we'd just bumbled into each other. By noon the rain was pouring from the sky. I was standing near Parla where I'd been all day. When the weather was clear I had disrupted the air, making shot and arrows fly wide of us. When it turned to rain the enemy closed on us. I had been pitching Arrows of Light all day and thought I should be tired by now. I'd never done this much spellwork in training or in a fight for that matter. But instead I felt invigorated. Alive. Pitched battle agreed with me.

Now, however, things were less agreeable. Lightning was crashing down in the middle of the battlefield, and there was nothing I could do about it. It killed indiscriminately and I wondered in the back of my mind if that would be how the gods killed me. Out of the walls of rain I saw a line of men charging at us, spears at the ready. They were young but their blood was up. I think they had just routed a squad of ours over the hill. They were looking to roll right over us.

Parla directed fire and reformed the line. I should have been afraid, as I had been earlier, but instead I was exhilarated. This was the edge of life. There was nothing beyond it but spears and death. I saw a figure with a banner, leading at least part of the charge. I decided to use the advantage of the rain and attempted to freeze his blood.

I was tired and didn't have a lot of control left. Looking back I think that helped. Blue light emanated from my hands and struck not only him but the ground and a few of the people around him. Massive ice crystals burst forth from their arms and legs, their torsos exploding in red frost. The ground around them surged with spikes of ice, killing or wounding all within five strides of my target. I blinked. Parla looked back at me, impressed. I shrugged.

This staggered but didn't stop them. As they came closer I gave up on ice. Fire was valuable earlier in clear weather but in this downpour it wouldn't be of much use. Or would it? I had an idea. I couldn't generate fire very far away, but the enemy was very close. Instead of trying to engulf someone, I used my power above them, on the falling rain. Immediately there was a massive hiss of steam and visibility dropped around us. Then, directly under where I had used my magic, I heard the screams of the dying. There were quite a few. I hoped that none of them were ours.