Black Rose Ch. 05

Kira

"Run, fight, I don't care. Let's just get on with it."

Rourke finishes his threat and I already know what they will choose. Five of them, four of us. They did lose two but that was just bad luck, that's what they'd think. Rourke isn't in his armor and he's still without a weapon, Sera isn't wearing anything more than traveling clothes, like I am. Matrick is still healing and in the cart. We don't seem too threatening.

I move first.

I throw out my hand and draw energy to create a barrier, a solid wall of shimmering air that their crossbow bolts shatter against, sparking off the unseen force. I push out with both hands and form a bolt of that same force, sending it at one of the crossbowmen. He's still confused about what happened when he dies, thrown into a tree trunk and pinned there until I release the energy.

"Shit!"

Rourke is quick for a man his size. He takes a few running steps and hits one of the bandits, a man wielding a sword. Rourke sidesteps the slash and breaks the man's arm like it was nothing more than a twig. Sera is on another, dodging swings and slashing the man open with knife blows here and there until she drives one to the hilt in his neck. That leaves three.

Matrick throws a helmet from the wagon, catching a bandit circling Rourke with a sickening crunch as bone collapses under the thick metal and devastating throw from Matrick's blacksmith arms. He winces and falls to the cart, saving himself from the second crossbowman, the bolt sailing over Matrick's head and into the trees.

I lift my hand and consume the bandit with a gout of blue flame. That leaves their leader.

"Mage." He spits, the smile gone from his face. "Can't face me with that staff, can you? Use your magic then, unless you have the balls to fight!"

"That would be foolish." Rourke says. I hold up my hand and the big man raises an eyebrow at me. Then he shrugs and steps back.

"Come on then." I tell their leader. He comes at me quickly, quietly, confident. I remember all those lessons, all those mornings with Elder Nymera. She was teaching me to be something else and then she was murdered.

Find your center, girl! I hear her voice, feel the strike of wood on my thigh, my shoulder. Her lessons are battered into my body. Each of them is remembered in my muscles through painful bruises and memories.

Don't think! Move!

I do. I sidestep his first thrust of the sword point, spinning the stave and cracking his wrist. He yelps but no bones break, so he keeps a hold of his sword and dances back from me, more cautious now. I point one end of the stave at his chin, move with his steps. His eyes burn with intensity, a fear and a rage that simmer behind them.

He attacks again, this time overhanded, swinging his sword down. I turn past it and jab his calf, dropping him to one leg. He tucks himself into a roll and I just miss the next swing, aiming for his shoulder. He comes up and comes with a flurry. I bat the sword aside, hitting the flat of the blade and directing his angry strikes away from my body.

The sword is a man's weapon. Heavy, clumsy, dangerous. Let him tire himself.

I do just that. Batting aside strikes easily, hardly straining. He is sweating, breathing hard, his swings are slowing down. I can see when he realizes that he has lost, I see the fire in his eyes become a puff of smoke, gone is the rage and in place is left only the fear. I hit him in the knee and it shatters under the hit, he screams and falls to the ground. I flick his sword away with nothing but contempt using the butt end of my stave.

"Guess I was wrong." He spits, looking up at me from his place on one knee.

Sometimes it is better to act, than to speak.

Her words echo in my head. I act. I smack him under the chin with the stave, clacking his teeth together hard enough to shatter one. That leaves him unconscious, damaged, and silent. It leaves the whole clearing in silence. I return the stave to an upright position and lean on it.

"The fuck was that?" Rourke asks.

"A lesson."

"Whose lesson?" Sera asks, using a foot to toe at the unconscious leader with the blood trickling from his mouth.

"That's the question, isn't it?" I say. "We should go. We have a lot of road to cover."

"What's the plan, anyway?" Rourke asks. I thump the stave.

A mage should think, always. But never rely on magic and intellect, girl. Sometimes you must deliver swift, brutal force.

"Another lesson." I say.

Sera

Two days on the road and Rourke and I haven't bitten each other's heads off since our fresh start. He's a big sullen monster of a man but he isn't so bad after all. Matty started walking on his own yesterday, so that's good. Rourke started gently beating the shit out of Matty at night, training the boy.

It's also a wonderful show for both Kira and I. Both men strip their shirts and parade around in their pants. Rourke is slabs of muscle, big and broad, built from carrying that armor for most of his life. Matty is lean and hard, the muscle of a young workman. Swinging a hammer, carrying arms and armor. It's a show that we both enjoy.

I'm laying on my bedroll and the sun hasn't risen yet, but Kira has. I hear her shuffling, just past the soft snoring of Matty and the less soft snoring of Rourke. I sleep light and she woke me up with her movement. I lay there, keeping my breathing even and slow, if she wants time alone then so be it.

Instead her hand brushes against my leg through the blankets of my bedroll.

"Can't sleep?" I whisper, feeling her leaning over me.

"I need your help with something." She whispers back. I shift to make room and she giggles. "Not that."

Ugh, I have to get out of my warm bed? I shuffle out, find my trousers and shirt and pull them on, all while she watches. I can feel her eyes on me, even in the darkness of pre-dawn. Once I'm dressed I follow her, our footsteps silent on the grass, leaving behind the dark snoring figures of the two boys.

She leads me to a clearing, far enough away that they won't hear us, won't wake up from whatever she has planned. She has her stave and she's found a branch that's close enough, tossing that to me. I catch it. Not my favorite weapon, but I can make do.

"You woke me up to fight me? Gods, that's rude." I say.

"I need to train, just like Matrick, just like Rourke. It's good for my skills, good for the body, good for my soul."

I see something in her eyes, something I saw back in the clearing when she clocked that dick of a bandit. Some pain lying behind those eyes. Who can blame the girl? She's nineteen, lost everything, lost everyone. Of course she's in pain.

"Alright."

We settle into fighting stances. She comes at me first, overhand and swinging hard. I block and knee her in the gut, catching her off guard. She sputters for breath and falls back, defensive this time. Then she nods.

"If you hold back in training, then you're never really ready to fight."

She circles me, keeping low and holding her stave at the ready. She attacks, a series of quick strikes that I fend off but only barely, feeling the wind of one attack cross my cheek just as I pull my face away.

"Why don't you use magic when you fight?" I ask. This time I attack, jabbing, then drawing back with a feinted overhand that I shift to a slash. She sees it coming and deflects it.

"What do you mean?"

"In a fight, a real fight, you're fighting to live, right? You've killed more than a few people in the last week and a half, why use magic on it's own but not with a weapon?"

She comes at me with an overhand attack, I hold up my branch crosswise to block, she kicks out and I have to fall back on my ass to avoid a bruised shin. One end of her stave hovers in front of my face and she has won. She returns the stave to her side and offers a hand. I take it and she pulls me up, then brushes the dirt off my ass.

"You're really good with that air magic stuff, why don't you use it? Like, you made that wall out of thin air, right?"

"Yeah." She says.

"Well, can't you speed up your hits or something? Or break someone's guard?" I motion with my hand, using the knife edge to chop at the center of my branch. "You could shatter a weapon and surprise your enemy. Toss them back on their ass, knock a leg out."

"I'd never really thought of it. We learned everything separately." She says. "It would take a lot more control."

"Well, isn't that the point of learning?" I ask her. "More control, more finesse? I mean, shit, Kira. You've got tons of power but are you gonna throw fire at every problem? That's gotta tire you out, right?"

She nods.

"Just a thought, is all." I tell her. "You're smart and you're tough, use it to your advantage."

We sit on a log together, side by side, leaning against each other. She rests her head on my shoulder and we sit and listen to the world waking up.

"What are you going to do after this?" I ask, breaking the silence. She doesn't answer.

"What are you going to do?" She throws it back at me and I snort a laugh through my nose.

"Fair. I don't know. Would feel...weird, to go back now. I kinda like this, apart from the callouses and the walking. If we get some horses? I'd keep doing this. Find jobs, you know, adventure."

"Why didn't you do it before?" She asks.

"Never found the right people, I guess." I say, after thinking about it.

"Are we the right people?" She asks that softly, so softly I almost don't hear it. I look at her, she looks up at me. Then I nod.

"Yeah. I think so. I could keep doing this." I say, leaning down and kissing her. Her lips are soft, warm, welcoming.

"Me too." She says, leaning her head on my shoulder again.

"Still have to ask the boys." I say, after a minute. "Think they'll stick around?"

She just laughs.

Rourke

I open my eyes slowly and feel a familiar stiffness in my lower back. It's a friendly reminder that I am living life on the road and I love the feeling, even as I groan awake and roll out of my blankets. I stand up and hear what sounds like every bone in my body crack with the movement, stiff muscles crying out as they stretch, lighting my whole body with a dull fire.

I roll my shoulders and neck and something pops in there, drawing a relieved groan from me.

"Are you alright?" Matrick asks, peering up at me from his bedroll.

"Never better, kid." I say. "Never better. Where'd they go?"

"Don't know, weren't there when I woke up." Matrick says, yawning wide and sliding out from his blankets and sitting up. I feel just the briefest twinge of envy but I never had to body to look like that. He's smaller than I am, most people are. Hell, some orcs are smaller than me. Might even dwarf a young troll here and there.

I start packing my things, we still have a way to travel before we get to this house of Kellias. I check the wagon carrying my armor, saving me a lot more stiffness than if I had to wear the shit and start throwing things into the wagon, getting the plodding horse ready.

"Hey, Rourke?" Matrick asks. I grunt.

"Why don't you carry a weapon?" He says. I stop packing and sigh. It was bound to come up, Sera's been pushing me to find one, I've got the armor after all. Seems fit that I'd carry a weapon too.

"What, you think I can't fight without one?"

"No!" Matrick is a bit of an eager kid. "I'm just curious."

I'm saved by the arrival of Sera and Kira. Hair mussed, flushed faces. I raise an eyebrow.

"We were training." Kira says. I keep my eyebrow raised.

"Training?" I ask. "What, you still need practice?"

"Not that kind of training." Kira isn't defensive.

"Looks like that kind of training." Both of them are redder than they should be, messy hair, all the telltale signs. Sera offers a rude gesture and a wink, a confusing combination of body language. I just laugh. I do believe Kira.

"Let's go. Only a couple more days until we get to the path up to his estate." Sera begins rolling up her stuff and packing it away, Kira does the same. Then we're ready to keep walking, another day on the road.

"Beautiful day." I observe, the sun rising and burning off the nighttime dew, lighting up the leaves of the trees around us. A new dawn and a new day.

"You enjoy this too much." Sera says, throwing her things in the cart. I hitch the horse to the cart and gently stroke it's neck.

"I do." I don't disagree with her. "It's better than shitty beer and dark taverns, better than waiting for night and dreading morning, it's something better than that. I'd forgotten that."

"Shit. That was fucking dark." She mutters. I laugh and nudge her. She shakes her head but I see the ghost of smile. She likes this too. How can one not? I suppose if one wants to live forever this isn't the life of choice but we're all heading down the same road, same destination, whether tomorrow or a year or a lifetime from now.

I hum a little song and lead the horse onto the dirt trail, an old marching song from my fighting days. I know they'll stare but I don't care. They also keep up, or I hope they do, I would like to be on the road again. I dig out an apple from the bags and take a hefty bite, humming around it while I chew.

"Ever seen a happier man?" Sera asks. "Tell us a story, big man. You've been around, no? All that gray in your hair, you must have seen some things."

"I have." I take another bite, finding the packed dirt road under my feet again. I hear another crunch and find Sera sitting on the back of the wagon, feet up and leaning back. She's eating her own apple, Matrick has found something of his own to eat and shares it with Kira. They're all waiting for more.

"Well?" Sera says, crossing her ankles and letting her hair dangle over the cart wall.

"When I was a younger man with slightly less gray, as you so graciously pointed out." Sera laughs. "I spent some time with the Direwolves."

"The mercenaries?" Matrick says, whistling through his teeth. The other two shake their heads. Matrick launches into the explanation and I don't interrupt, he's just so excited.

"The Direwolves are this northern mercenary company, led by The Gray Wolf. It's an elected position, they've been fighting for a century or more, they held the line on their own when the Severn Regulars fled during the Severn-Coadera War. Two hundred mercenaries held against thousands of Coaderan heavy infantry, they lost half their number but they held long enough for reinforcements. Some consider that the turning point of the war!"

"They're wrong." I say. "They weren't fielding two hundred mercenaries, the company was down by fifty men by the time we engaged the Coaderan infantry. The Severn Regulars had taken severe casualties and retreated under the cover of darkness. We were supposed to get their replacements before morning but they were delayed, the Coaderan commander attacked in the early morning hours. That's what saved us."

"You were there?" Matrick is awed, big eyes and watching me like I'm mythical or something. Just some idiot that was listening to his god.

"I was."

"How did an early morning attack save you?" Kira asks.

"Back then I prayed in those hours, always away from the camp, always in armor. Their advance elements quite literally stumbled over me, kneeling there. In that sort of northern cold, swords will stick in the scabbard. They were scouting ahead and for whatever reason they hadn't drawn their swords yet, so I did what I do, then I raised the alarm. We held them off until the replacements arrived and launched a counter attack, pushing the Coaderan line back."

"You were there?" Matrick repeats himself. "Holy shit. You were with the Direwolves?"

"Yes and no. I was there with them but I was not one of them." I say. I think I have earned a loyal lapdog follower for those words, the kid looks at me like I've suddenly been elevated to godhood. It was a long time ago now, a very long time ago.

"Who did you pray to, Paladin? Which god was yours?" Sera asks. I think she knows the answer already. There is little reason to hide it now. I might as well be honest.

"I served Dhemos."

They are silent. It seems obvious now, it must. They are the first I have told in many years, since the High Priest of Dhemos scarred me, marking me as a cast off. Then they kicked me, beat me, and threw me from the temple. It was expected.

"You served the god of war." Sera says. "That explains a lot."

"It is a complicated relationship." I suppose I am explaining my once ordained path to them now. It does pass the time while walking. "It isn't simple service. It is a calling, a greater purpose."

"Did Dhemos speak to you? To call you?" Kira asks. She's the curious one of the group, I should have known. She was a student of magic until recently, about to be thrown into the world. Matrick is still processing what he has learned. Sera just sits there being herself.

"Fair question. Yes, and no. The gods speak to each servant in their own way, some hear their voice speaking words as clearly as I am speaking to you now. I did not hear Dhemos' voice. I was a boy, getting into a fight I shouldn't have gotten into, when I felt his presence, as if another was guiding my fists." I explain, and not well.

I can't possibly share the experience with them through words, I can hardly understand what it felt like in my own head. Dhemos walked me through the most horrific battles, carried me out of war, granted me strength to defend those who needed defending.

"What does a Paladin do to be thrown out of the service of a god of war?" Sera asks, watching me. She's gone serious and that bothers me. I shrug off the question.

"That's not a story for today, elf." I say. She doesn't press the question and Matrick saves her with an avalanche of questions about my time with the Direwolves. I will answer those questions, I will tell those stories.

I feel both Sera and Kira, watching me while I talk, regaling Matrick with stories of the Direwolves and their adventures. They're curious.

They will remain curious.

Kira

Matrick has not stopped asking questions and Rourke has been incredibly genial, answering them and telling old war stories. It's the most the large ex-Paladin has spoken in all the time we've spent together.

"He's coming alive, isn't he?" Sera asks, walking beside me. She abandoned riding in the cart out of boredom, I think. Either that or she's tired of hearing Matrick's questions about Rourke's time as a Paladin with these famed Direwolves.

"Was it better before? Or is this better?" I ask her. She laughs, kicking at the dirt road. It's been hours, yet again, of walking.

"Do you have a plan, for when we get there?" Sera asks. It would be good to hear something other than Rourke's stories. Not that they're bad, just, it's a lot. Matrick is insatiable and Rourke seems to enjoy using this to pass the time.

"No. I don't. I've never had to have any plan for anything. This is all new to me." I say. She laughs again, loud enough that Matrick and Rourke both glance back to see what was so funny.

"Fair, you're just a baby mage, only capable of leveling small cities and scorching a handful of humans to the bone. Who could expect you to have plan?"

I elbow her in the side and laugh with her. It feels strange.

"Hey." She says. "Don't feel guilty for finding something you're enjoying. Especially after all that. No guilt. You're alive, so act like it."

"Why are you so fucking serious lately?" I ask. She got real serious with Rourke, now she's serious with me. She shrugs, it's cute when she shrugs.

"I don't know." She seems genuinely confused by it. Like being serious and nice is somehow so foreign to her.

"Can I ask you something?" I say after a short silence, just the sound of us walking and Rourke talking.

"Of course." She says.

"How do you feel about what we're doing? You know, going after your father?" I ask her. It's been on my mind for a while, I know she doesn't seem to like her father but that's not the same as being willing to let me kill him. Or at least try to kill him.