The Chronicles: Three Sisters

THE THREE SISTERS Chapter 1

This is a sequel of sorts to the story of Borna. It's not necessary to read 'The Chronicles of Hvad' first, but if you have ... this tale takes place in the Uplands, and it involves the direct descendants of Payl and Ljudevit.

Please be advised: this story is R-rated (rather than X-rated), though there are scenes of violence which some may find disturbing.

Once again, I want to thank my tireless editors, Alianath Iriad and Lastman416, for their advice and support. Whatever errors remain are all mine.

*****

I'll always wonder if I could have done things differently.

If I had acted other than I did, would my life have taken a different course? And would certain people have lived, while others died instead?

I don't believe in fate, you see. So it was my choice, when Eguen Sheep-Tail came to me, that day. I put off fishing, for a while, and listened to him.

He was a scrawny little fellow, Eguen was, and more than a little odd. I don't think that his unfortunate nickname was entirely deserved, but he was a shepherd, and a bit odd. People did wonder why he had never remarried when his wife was carried off by the bloody flux[1], in that terrible winter of the ice storm.

She left him one son - Povilas - branded with a harelip, so that the boy's eventual nickname was never in doubt. I took the lad under my wing, and began training him to be a fighter. The spirit was there, even if Povilas was a bit dense. But he was loyal, and hard-working, so when his father came to me, I gave him my time.

- "Two o' my sheep missin'." said Eguen.

- "Missing?" I said. "Wandered off? Or a wolf?"

- "They don't wander." he said. "They was taken. T'were them Nadestis."

This was potentially quite serious. I banished all thoughts of fishing for the day, and followed Eguen back to the pastures where he grazed his sheep.

There was no sign of any predator, neither wolf nor bear - no prints, no scat. But there were footprints, and Eguen swore that they were not his own.

- "Saw them." he said. "Three o' them. One was that Nadesti lad - Lanko."

- "When did you see them, Eguen?" I asked.

- "Two weeks ago. An' maybe jus' a few days ago, too." he said.

- "But you haven't seen them since?"

- "I know what I saw, Hammerfist." he said.

That was my nickname - Hammerfist. I have to admit that it came in handy, from time to time. But it was mostly a curse. There would always be those who took it as some kind of challenge, who would want to test themselves against me.

And then there were those - like Eguen - who would always believe that I could solve problems with my fists, or with the threat of them. But in this case, I didn't see how I could avoid my responsibility.

I was the headman, and Eguen had every right to demand my help. When they stole from Eguen, they were effectively stealing from me. So I gave Eguen two from my own flock, to replace those he'd lost.

Then I found myself, two days later, walking four leagues, towards the eastern end of the lake, where the Nadestis held sway. I went alone, because I placed my faith in diplomacy - and because they had more fighting men than I could have raised in any case.

I was also trusting to the Nadestis' reputation for fairness. They were hard folk - but reasonable. I hoped.

They saw me coming from a long way off. One man, alone, armed with nothing more than a knife, would not alarm them too much. But three men were waiting for me, with spears and a bow, when I turned north towards their steading.

They let me pass, without a word, and then followed, some thirty yards behind me.

It was not a proper steading, of course. There were no walled or enclosed villages, in this remote corner of the Uplands. What we called 'The Nadestis' was no more than a cluster of a dozen small houses. They were all virtually identical, built of loose stones, with roofs of thatch. There was no shortage of stone, on the shores of the lake.

Half a dozen men and women waited, and watched me approach. Two were worthy of note. One was the old woman, Guengerthlon, the matriarch of their community. Her four sons and two daughters were said to heed her wishes - most of the time.

She was old, even then. Her face was worn and lined, and seemed to sag, as if her skin had grown tired with the years. But she still had a strong chin, and a long, narrow nose. There was no mistaking the intelligence in those rheumy blue eyes. Her grey hair was covered by a faded scarf, knotted behind her head.

I spared the old woman only a glance, though, because her eldest son stood a pace in front of her. Dengel, his name was. Dengel Stoneface.

He was a big fellow, tall and broad shouldered, with a massive head. His hair was dark brown, but his beard was almost red. It was thick, and shaggy. He tied it with a leather cord, just beneath his chin. Dengel held a massive boar spear, with the butt resting on the ground.

His expression did not waver as I drew near. In fact, I don't think he even blinked. I wasn't going to win a staring contest with this man-mountain. But that wasn't what I had come for. So I looked him in the eye, and then nodded my head - perhaps half an inch. The movement would have been almost imperceptible, to the people watching us. But Dengel saw it.

With the niceties out of the way, I could now address his mother.

- "I'm here about sheep." I said.

She didn't reply.

"Two of them, stolen from my man Eguen."

- "Wolves?" suggested Guengerthlon.

- "No animal tracks. Neither wolf nor bear." I said. "Footprints, though. Three men."

- "What makes you think that these men came from here?" she asked.

- "Eguen saw them. He recognized your youngest - Lanko."

The old woman contemplated me for a moment. Her gaze didn't waver.

- "What if he was mistaken?" she asked.

- "It's possible." I said. "That's why I'm not here to demand two sheep. Or a punishment."

Dengel grunted. "Then why are you here?"

- "To clear the air between us. I don't want any misunderstanding. After today, if I find Lanko - or any of your people - anywhere near Eguen's sheep, there'll be trouble."

Guengerthlon nodded. "That's fair." she said. "I'll make sure that our folk know it."

- "That's all I ask." I said.

I gave Dengel a second near-imperceptible nod, and walked home.

***

Young men are stupid.

There's no other way to put it. I knew, for a certainty, that once Lanko heard what I had said, he would take it as a challenge to his pride. To his masculinity. He was already stupid enough to steal sheep from his neighbours - he would not heed his mother, or his brother.

He would think that he had to prove himself, to show me that he was not intimidated.

That was why I was waiting, in hiding, and watching Eguen's flock. I had two men with me: Povilas, known as Harelip - Eguen's son - and Guithrit Firebush. Poor Guithrit had a full head of the brightest red hair anyone had ever seen. It was long, and curly, but it didn't fall to his shoulders. Instead, it stuck up and out, in every direction.

I placed the two young men where they could see, and not be seen, and then hid myself. There was a good chance that Lanko might wait a day before trying something, but I could wait - and watch - until he did.

I made a mistake, though.

It was a simple enough mistake: I assumed that Lanko Nadesti had some sense. It never even occurred to me that he would want to do more than steal another sheep or two, to make a statement.

- "There. Up the slope." said Guithrit. He made no sudden movement, and pointed with his finger, rather than his arm, just as I had taught him.

Three men - two of them armed with spears - emerged from a thicket, and began to cross the pasture. They weren't ours.

- "The one in the lead- that's Lanko." whispered Povilas.

They made no move to take one of the sheep. Instead, they walked straight on, toward the lake. I was puzzled: why were they moving away from Eguen's flock of sheep?

I made a second mistake. We followed, at a distance, keeping out of sight. I wanted to catch them in the act - which wouldn't happen if they suspected that we were there.

It wasn't until we were close to Eguen's little stone cottage that I began to worry. The old shepherd had stayed close to home for the day, since we were keeping an eye on his flock for him. He was re-thatching his roof, and didn't see the three men until they were upon him.

They killed him.

Lanko Nadesti walked straight up to Eguen, and without any kind of warning, stabbed his spear into the shepherd's gut. Eguen fell back, as Lanko drove him to the ground. A second fellow came forward, and stabbed the fallen man in the chest.

Povilas would have run to his father's aid - far too late - but I grabbed him by the arm. He wasn't strong enough to pull away from me.

- "Wait!" I hissed. He struggled again, but I had him in my grip.

After killing the unarmed shepherd, the three Nadestis went into his cottage, presumably looking for loot. We covered a lot of ground while they were inside.

When the first man came back out, I fired an arrow into him from twenty feet away. It wasn't a particularly good shot, because the fellow ducked a bit to avoid striking his head on the lintel. My arrow struck him in the shoulder instead of the heart, as I had intended.

He staggered sideways, against the doorway, and fell. It took the other two a moment to realize what had happened. The next man leapt through the doorway, and presented his spear. He screamed, in defiance - or to frighten us.

My second shot was much better. It hit him in the face. He shrieked and fell back into the cottage.

It might seem that I was acting in a cowardly manner, shooting these men before they could reach me. It was hardly a fair fight.

Of course it wasn't. Why offer a man an even chance of killing or injuring you, when you can dispose of him at a distance? He wouldn't be so kind to you. These little bastards hadn't offered Eguen a weapon, or the opportunity to defend himself in single combat. Why would I extend them such a courtesy?

The third man shouted from inside.

- "Don't shoot! I'm coming out!"

He didn't come out.

- "Are you going to shoot?" he shouted.

- "Let him come out." said Povilas. "I want him." He wanted revenge for his father. Understandable - but foolish.

I shook my head. "The first one is only wounded." I said. "You can have him."

- "Are you going to shoot?" shouted the third man. "You can't kill me! Don't you know who I am?"

- "You're a thief, and a murderer." I said.

- "Is that you, Hammerfist?" he shouted. "I'm not afraid of you! I claim the right of single combat! I'm Lanko Nadesti!"

I looked at Povilas, and then Guithrit - and rolled my eyes.

- "Fine, Nadesti." I said. "Single combat. Long knife, or spear?"

- "Knife!"

- "Agreed." I said.

He stepped through Eguen's doorway, weapon in hand.

My arrow was off-target. I was aiming for his groin, but struck him in the upper thigh. Lanko had probably never been seriously injured before. He screamed, and fell.

- "He's yours." I said, to Povilas.

One of the others was also still alive. The one shot in the face was dead. Povilas, with Guithrit's assistance, finished Lanko and his friend.

They knew my ways. Lanko died, painfully, but his suffering wasn't extended. Povilas placed a knife over his ribs, just below the heart, and then leaned on it - slowly.

We buried Eguen, honorably.

***

The next day, I walked east once again. I went alone, as before, and unarmed, save for a knife.

As before, Dengel Stoneface and his mother were waiting for me.

- "He didn't listen to you." I said. "He and his companions killed my shepherd, Eguen."

Guengerthlon did not respond.

"The first time, they were thieves. But Eguen was unarmed. This was murder."

- "You killed them." said Dengel. It wasn't a question.

- "What have you done with their bodies?" asked the old woman.

- "They're laid out at the Bend, for your people to collect them." I said. "I have a man watching, to make sure the animals don't get at them."

- "I'm going to have to kill you, Veran." said Stoneface.

- "You can try." I said.

***

Fifteen Years Earlier

Every time I looked across Lake Yeleno, I understood why my father had settled here.

The land to the south was rocky, but the plentiful stones provided material to build solid houses. There was enough grass for pasture, and a few spots where one could find land that would sustain simple crops.

The lake itself was spectacular - the water was green, for the most part, but blue in places. Fish were abundant. The shoreline was irregular, jagged and rocky. There were in fact, three distinct sections of the lake.

On the eastern, side, it was narrower. The central portion was unique, because it seemed to be oriented north-south, rather than east-west. The western section of the lake was broader, and deeper.

The northern shore of Lake Yeleno was dominated by the mountains known as the Three Sisters. They were roughly aligned with the three segments of the lake. Brana, to the east was covered in gnarly, stunted pine trees. Beska, in the centre, was not quite so high. Curiously, though, the trees only covered her slopes halfway up, before giving way to low bushes, and bare, rocky patches.

Myeva was the third sister, at the north-western end of the lake. The tallest of the three mountains, Myeva was almost bare of the stunted pine. For most of the year - and sometimes, all year long - she was snow-capped.

My father Branhucar the Blessed, was among the first to build a house directly south of Beska. It was uncanny, men said, how he could find the best spot to hunt, or fish. He was handsome, well-spoken, and had the most incredible luck.

His wife was the most beautiful woman anyone had ever seen. She bore him two fine, healthy sons, before she died while trying to deliver a third. Then he found a second wife, and his neighbours all had to agree: this girl was even more beautiful than the first. She gave him a daughter, and then another son - me.

Branhucar's little settlement grew and prospered, as others came to join him. They were attracted by his fair dealings, his strong arm - and his luck.

He chose the location, he said, for the Asphodels - bright yellow flowers, like little spikes, that bloomed in summer. Their orange fruit was edible, and could be used for colour, like saffron. And so our settlement became known as Asphodels.

Branhucar claimed to be the grandson of Payl, the Shining One, and her Niskadi[2] lover, Ljudevit. Ljudevit was the Hand of Borna, the first Voivode - the first Duke - of Hvad.

My two older brothers were entranced by Branhucar's stories of his grandmother and her exploits. Our father had an inexhaustible store of tales and songs from that long-ago era. Some of them might even have been true. Or partly true.

But they planted a seed in my brothers' hearts, until both of decided that they wanted nothing more than to seek a place with the new Duke - Richwin. He was Borna's grandson; surely he would be keen to have Payl's great-grandsons by his side?

They left together, to seek their fortunes in the Lowlands.

- "Father?" I asked, the day after they set out. "Are my brothers fools? Or am I?"

- "Why would you say that?" he asked.

- "The three of us, together - we would have been strong. But one day, when you're gone ... it will just be me."

My father smiled. "Ask yourself, Veran ... who would our people prefer to have leading them: you, or your brothers?"

I'll admit that I swelled with pride, when he said that. But I was right, too: if my half-brothers had stayed, no one would have dared to attack us.

And if they had waited another few months, then they might not have left at all. Because that was when Maeloc came to the lake - with his wife and two daughters.

I was 16 years old, and I had never seen a girl as lovely as his younger daughter, Meonwe. The older sister, Abrelda, was full-bodied, but plain of face. Meonwe, though ...

Her smile was like the sun suddenly coming through the clouds. She was graceful, and kind, and entirely without pretense. I fell in love with her, hopelessly and irretrievably.

I was not the only one.

Bacho was the son of Cenmin Evenhand, the Headman at the western end of the lake. Cenmin was renowned for his fairness, and the impartiality of his judgments. Bacho was a big lad, a year older than me.

We were rivals, in many ways. Bacho seemed to feel the need to compete with me, at every possible endeavour. I was the better swimmer, both for speed and for endurance. He was stronger, and more skillful with an axe, whether chopping wood, or throwing at a target. I was the better archer; he was the faster runner.

What infuriated him the most, I think, was the simple fact that I did not care. The rivalry was entirely on his side. I wasn't about to lose sleep over who was faster, or stronger. I tried my best - always - but I did not measure my worth by how I fared in competition with Bacho.

It was inevitable, I suppose. Both of us fell in love with Meonwe. At least, I did. Bacho may have been infatuated with her. Or it might have been, simply, that he felt the need to win in yet another competition with me. I wondered, more than once, if he pursued Meonwe just so that he could take her from me.

But my heart was totally lost to this girl. I could not - would not - step back, and let him win. He gave her presents. I tried to find places that she would like, or activities that suited her.

I made her a boat, so that she could go about on the lake, to fish, or simply to be out on the water. We rowed across the lake in it, to Piran's Point. She was delighted.

We made a fire, and grilled the fish we had caught.

- "Veran?" she said. "May I ask you something?"

- "Of course you can." I answered.

She smiled, shyly. "How do ... how do you feel about me?"

- "Are you serious?" I asked. "How can you doubt me? I love you, Meonwe. I want to marry you, and have children with you. I want to grow old with you, and look out over the lake, and say 'Isn't our daughter beautiful? Just like her mother.'"

To be quite honest, I have no idea where these words came from. They sprang from my lips, fully formed, without any thought on my part.

She laughed.

"Why do you ask?" I said. "You must know that you are the world, to me."

- "I believe I'd be happy with you, Veran." she said. "But -"

- "But?"

She looked me in the eye. It was one more wonderful thing about Meonwe - she was direct, and truthful. She did not play games.

- "Bacho asked me to marry him." she said.

I was not entirely stupid.

- "And you wanted to know how I feel?"

- "Yes." she said.

I put another piece of driftwood on our little fire.

- "Meonwe," I said, "if you choose Bacho, you need not fear that I will be angry, or resentful. I want your happiness more than my own. I won't question your decision, or try to make you regret it."

"But you know how I feel. I believe that I could never be happier, if you chose me."

- "I would choose you, Veran." she said. "But there are ..."

- "Complications."

I gave her space, and time, to decide. A week later, Meonwe came to visit my parents. They had a long conversation, from which I was excluded.

My father came to speak to me, afterwards.

- "She's a rare jewel, that one." he said.

- "I know."

- "She has the sense to recognize that if she chooses you over Bacho, it could create bad feeling between us and Cenmin's folk."

"I like her, Veran. I think you should marry her." said my father.