by Kal Spriggs
Covle spun and went to one knee, "My Lord, my apologies for the delay, I didn't want any of my men to follow me."
"Wise decision," Xavien said. The pale wizard wore a black cloak, but he also seemed to wear some sort of leather armor underneath, something that clung to his figure in an eerie fashion. Covle's master walked over to the teenage girl's corpse and kicked at it. "Not yet frozen... one of your men was here not long ago."
Covle shrugged, "Probably Damien, he prefers the younger ones." They had a small number of prisoners, mostly female, that he let his men use here at their camp. Damien and a couple of the other men tended to get too rough with them, but it wasn't as if Covle cared one way or the other. He would have the entire lot of prisoners killed soon anyway, when his company had to move on.
"Wasteful," Xavien said. "I thought your men were hungry... seems foolish to let a body go to waste." From his smirk, it was clear that he had eaten of human flesh before.
Even Covle's stomach rebelled at that thought. "Lest one of my men interrupt us, perhaps you should tell me why you summoned me?"
Xavien nodded, "Of course. Though I do so hate being rushed." He said the last with a tone of bitterness, as if recently annoyed. Covle didn't want to draw that anger, so he remained quiet.
"Things are coming to a head," Xavien said. "You and my other agents are going to have to take more drastic actions. From what I've learned, some of the rebels here in the south still think that peace is something they can negotiate for."
Covle sneered, "I don't know how much more I can do, my Lord. I've slaughtered the peasants whenever I can find them. My men have raped their women and murdered their children..."
"You have heard of the one they call Swordbreaker?" Xavien interrupted.
Covle swallowed. "Yes, my Lord."
Xavien stalked forward and leaned in close to Covle's face. "He has escaped you not just once but three times now, Covle," Xavien hissed. "Three times he should have been dead with his corpse rotting." He held up one finger, “Once he escaped your men at Zielona Gora, rescued by your precious Katarina." Xavien held up a second finger, "Again when your army attacked Zielona Gora, he managed to hold your mercenaries, to defeat the best men you sent there, did he not?" Covle wanted to look away, but the wizard's mad eyes kept him transfixed. Xavien held up a third finger, "And again, only a short time ago, his company ambushed your men and sent you running back here, almost out of the highlands entirely..."
Covle tried to open his mouth, but Xavien reached out gentle fingers to still his lips, "I do not accept failure, Covle. The only reason I don't have you screaming for mercy right now is that I never told you to kill the peasant."
Xavien's fingers bit into the flesh of Covle's face like claws. "I am telling you now, Covle. The next time you have the opportunity to kill the lowborn peasant, you will kill him or else your screams will linger in the nightmares of those who hear them for the rest of their lives... am I understood?"
Covle nodded frantically.
"Good," Xavien said. "Now then," he let go of Covle and turned away. "Muster your men. March for the north, get clear of the highlands."
"My Lord, Duke Hector ordered me to --"
"I care not what he ordered," Xavien said. "If you wish to die and die horribly, you will stay here. Some of my... pets have gone to hunt. They'll ravage these lands and I don't want them catching scent of you and wasting the resources."
"Yes, my Lord," Covle said.
***
Captain Aerion Swordbreaker
Near Dawnspring, Duchy of Masov
15th of Annat, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
The howling wind dragged at him and he stumbled as a gust nearly knocked him off his feet. He looked back at the line of his company. He could only see a few yards in the storm. He'd ordered his men to tie themselves together with rope, afraid that he would lose men in the blinding storm.
They were tired, he could sense. Tired and cold. They staggered in another gust. Even with the warm winter uniforms, they wouldn't be able to go on much longer. They would have to camp soon, he knew.
He dreaded giving those orders. If they camped in the open, they might be stuck for days or even weeks in the heavy snow from this storm. Their supply sleds carried substantial foodstuffs as well as firewood, but their tents wouldn't do for that kind of stay. That assumes we could get the tents up in this mess, he thought as the wind gusted again.
Yet with no sign of the refugees they sought and no sign of shelter, he might well have no other choice. They had followed the trail of the refugees for the past two weeks, out of Tucola Forest and westwards, yet they had lost that trail when the storm hit. As it was, he wasn't sure that his company had kept to the road. On these rolling plains, without shelter, they wouldn't last long.
"Captain Swordbreaker!" A voice shouted. Aerion turned and saw a form stagger forward along the column. It could only be LordJarek, since he had ignored Aerion's orders to tie himself off. Not that I'd complain too much about him getting lost in this storm, Aerion thought. It was Jarek who had escallated their fight, who in fact, had caused the fight in the first place. If not for Jarek, Aerion and his men would be safely back at Zielona Gora.
If not for Jarek, he reminded himself, he might still have a chance with Katarina.
"What?" Aerion snarled.
"We have to stop," Jarek shouted. "The men are exhausted. The sleds have bogged down again. We have to wait the storm out!"
The fact that Jarek mirrored his own thoughts wasn't lost on him. Yet the very fact that it was Jarek who said them made Aerion want to refute it. "We can't camp in the open, here," Aerion snapped. "We couldn't even get the tents up, we'll lose half the company in this storm."
"We'll lose all of them if we don't!" Jarek shouted in return.
Aerion bit his tongue rather than scream at the man. Saying something like that in front of the men, throwing his orders into doubt... They need to believe in themselves and in their leaders, he thought, which isn't improved with me screaming at one of them in front of them.
Before he could decide what to do, Walker stumbled towards them out of the storm. "Captain," he shouted loud enough for his high pitched voice to carry, "our scouts spotted lights ahead, looks like we found Dawnspring!"
Aerion let out a hissing breath of relief. It seemed his decision to carry on was the right one. "Right," he raised his voice, "Let's go, men, it's not long and we'll get some rest!" Finally some good news, he thought.
***
"My Lord," the gaunt man that greeted them near the palisade, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you in." His stoop-shouldered frame and seamed face spoke of decades of hard toil, just as his hollow cheeks and ragged clothing spoke of hard times.
"What?" Aerion demanded. In the lee of the wall, the wind was somewhat less, but the snow stood so deep that soon he would be able to walk over the palisade. From the way that the man and the other two with him blocked the way, hands clutching spears, they were prepared to fight over it.
"We've had trouble with soldiers before," the man said. "Looting, rapes, even murder."
Aerion grimaced, "I can understand that things have happened, but I give you my word, my men --"
"I can't accept your word!" The man snapped. "I lost my wife to a soldier and I'll not see my daughter raped and killed by some drunken soldier."
"Fat chance of that if they look like you," Walker muttered just loud enough for Aerion to hear.
"Look, friend, what is your name?" Aerion asked.
The man shifted uncomfortably and pulled his ratty blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Marek," he said after a long moment.
"Marek," Aerion said, "I'm Aerion, I'm not a nobleman so you don't need to call me 'Lord' or anything like that. I grew up in a village about a week's travel west of here." He paused a moment, "Hector's mercenaries burned that village to the ground and killed fifty-three of our people."
Marek shuddered a bit at that and looked down, which told Aerion he had experien
ced something similar. "I respect that you don't want my men harassing your people. But we came here to help. We brought food and supplies, carried on sleds my men pulled through the snow. We brought it courtesy of Lady Katarina Emberhill, who heard that your people were out here. You have to know that we can't survive in this storm without shelter."
Marek pulled his blanket tighter around him, "How do we know we can trust you?"
Aerion sighed. In truth, he knew his men could overwhelm the refugees’ defense, yet saying that would hardly help his case. "I give you my word, Marek. Not as a soldier, but as a fellow commoner. My men will be on their best behavior, I swear it."
"It's not really my decision..." Marek hedged. From the way he looked over his shoulder, Aerion got the feeling that while Marek had come here to protect his fellows, it might well not have been his idea. This doesn't bode well, Aerion thought.
"Before we all freeze in this cold," Lord Jarek said. "How about we all move into shelter and we'll discuss it there, with all concerned parties?"
Marek bristled a bit at Jarek's accent and words, but the older man gave a nod after a moment. "Right enough."
"Marek," one of the other men hissed, "Vuk said not to let them in, no matter what!"
"I don't care, Senka," Marek said. "Or do you want to stop them?"
Aerion's eye narrowed and he peered at the man that Marek had called Senka. It wasn't a name he had heard before, which didn't mean much... except Senka also had an odd accent. For that matter, Vuk was an odd name, too. Aerion couldn't help but notice that Senka wore a real cloak and for that matter, his dark clothing was in better shape than Marek's.
Senka looked between Marek and Aerion. "I'm going to tell Vuk!" He scuttled away before Aerion could say anything in reply.
"Don't trust that one," Walker said in a low voice.
Aerion just nodded.
He led the way into the village, "How long have you been here?" He asked as he looked around. He noticed a set of fresh graves, stark against the snow, just inside the wall. Fifteen of them, at least, though with the snowfall, there might well be more.
"Three weeks," Marek said. Aerion didn't miss how the man's gaze also went to the graves.
"How many refugees?" Aerion asked as they walked forward. Dawnspring wasn't large, but the abandoned village had a looming feel to it as they walked down the street.
"Just under five hundreds," Marek said. He gave a wracking cough and leaned on his spear. "Sorry, cold air is hard on me of late."
Aerion paused and let the older man catch his breath. He felt a worm of worry in his gut, though. If there were some kind of sickness within the village, or worse...
After a moment Marek led the way onwards. They rounded a corner and now there were signs of habitation. Blankets placed over empty doorways and windows, the smell of woodsmoke blown by the wind, and here and there gaunt faces peered out at Aerion and his men as they walked down the streets.
"As soon as this storm clears," Aerion said, "We'll get you all moving--"
"Nonsense!" A booming voice said. A big man, dressed in furs, hustled through the snow towards them. "We have finally found a safe place, we won't abandon it for the roads!" Behind him came a dozen more, most of them similarly dressed in furs. Aerion didn't miss Senka skulking behind the group.
"Vuk," Marek said, "This is Captain Aerion, and he’s one of Lady Katarina's soldiers. He and his men brought food and supplies--"
"Yes," Vuk said, "and you let armed men into the village after we agreed it would be too much of a threat. Clearly I should have gone to the gate myself." As the big man came closer, Aerion couldn't miss how warmly bundled he was with thick furs. The big man's beard and hair were lank and greasy and unlike the others Aerion had seen, he didn't have the edge of starvation look. "Now, then," Vuk said, "I'll have to ask you and your men to turn over your weapons, for the safety of these people."
Aerion stared at him in shock. "I think," Aerion said, "you are mistaken."
"No," Vuk said in a loud voice, "you are mistaken if you think we'll let you turn us out into the cold! We've already suffered enough, we'll not die out in the winter!"
"You can't stay here," Aerion said as calmly as he could manage. "We can wait out the storm, but it is best that we be gone as soon as possible."
"What, so that you and your men can pilfer our goods out on the road?" Vuk waved his hands in dismissal. Aerion didn't miss the glint of rings on all of his fingers. For that matter, now that he looked he saw heavy gold chains around the man's neck.
"I don't care about your wealth," Aerion said. "I care about your lives. If you stay here, all of you will be dead by spring."
"Hah!" Vuk said, "And now you threaten us!" He gave another dramatic wave and Aerion saw that a crowd had begun to form, despite the cold.
"He's not arguing with you," Jarek whispered to Aerion, "he's trying to talk the others into ignoring you."
Despite himself, Aerion gave Jarek a nod. Time to change tactics, he thought. "Tell me," Aerion asked, "did it seem odd to you that this village was abandoned?"
Vuk paused, mouth open as he tried to figure out how to answer that.
"We thought sickness," Marek said. "Though it was odd, someone stripped out most what was here, furniture, doors, shutters. You don't go near a plagued village to do that." The refugees nodded and muttered to themselves. Clearly its abandonment had been a topic of discussion since their arrival.
Vuk gave the man a glare, but he nodded, "The village was abandoned for cycles. We assume that the sickness passed and people came back to take what they could."
"It was abandoned," Aerion said, "because this place is cursed."
The refugees went quiet and still at his words. "Something sickened the spirit of this place," Aerion said. "And where it had once protected the people here... instead it attacked them. This place has been abandoned not just once, but dozens of times. I grew up not far from here and my people know the legends well."
"That's just superstition," Marek snapped.
“Every time, the pattern starts again. A group of families settle here. They plant their crops, graze their livestock, and at first things go well." Aerion swept his gaze around the group. "First it takes their children, late on cold nights. It starts with a cough, as the spirit stills their lungs, makes every breath a struggle. Then it goes for the elders," he nodded at Marek, "those who would recognize the signs."
"No!" Vuk snapped, "I saw the wardings. Hostile spirits are barred from the village, we saw it ourselves!"
"Did you not also see the graves?" Walker asked. "Another group of refugees sought shelter here earlier this winter. One of Lady Katarina's patrols found the last of them curled up in the village shrine. Forty graves they dug: for them and their families."
"Nonsense," Vuk said with a glance over at Senka, "they might have died of starvation or cold!"
"How many of you have died here?" Jarek asked.
"Nineteen," Marek said, even as he started to cough.
"Nineteen," Aerion said, "Almost one per day. The spirit of this place will feed off you, taking the weakest first and then those who might recognize the signs.”
Vuk looked around and the expression on his face soured as he saw the crowd murmur at Aerion's words. "We should move inside to discuss this further. My people will help your men unload food and supplies."
"My men can take care of it," Aerion said. He nodded at Walker, "Split our people out, a few to each home, make sure everyone receives food... but make sure no one eats too much." They had lost refugees before when they let them eat too much, too quickly. With the stocks of firewood, his men would prepare soup broth for them.
"There's no need," Vuk said, "My men know who needs the food the most..."
Aerion's one eye narrowed in suspicion, looking between Vuk and Marek, who looked to be on the edge of starvation. Vuk didn't look overweight, but he certainly looked better fed than the older man. "My men will take care of it," Aerion repeated. "You wanted
to get inside, right?"
Vuk looked like he wanted to spit, but he gave him a nod. "Yes, over here." He let the way and Aerion followed. Jarek came behind, too, and Aerion saw Marek follow as well, the older man limping and leaning heavily on his spear.
They came to the largest of the village's homes and Aerion saw that this house had the most repairs, with a straw-chinked wooden door and salvaged wood for the home's shutters. Vuk led the way inside, followed by his men. Aerion started to follow when Senka stepped forward to block the path of Jarek and Marek. "Vuk said he wanted to meet with your Captain alone... and you, old man, you should go back to guard the gate. We wouldn't want anyone else to slip in."
Marek gave Aerion a look and Aerion shook his head, "We'll be fine." He glanced at Jarek, who had a resigned expression. He knows I'll send him away, Aerion thought. He didn't want Jarek there with him... yet he felt nervous about how Senko wanted to make certain he was alone with Vuk.
"I’d like your company, Lord Jarek," Aerion said, using his title intentionally. He saw Senko's eyes go wide at that and the man slouched out of the way with no further argument.
The interior of the home was considerably warmer and Aerion took off his cloak. He left on his runic armor, gifted by the Wold. Not for the first time he felt gratitude that it kept him comfortable, even in the worst weather. Not so for even Jarek's finely wrought armor. The young nobleman looked pathetically grateful for the warmth.
The home's front room, clearly one that had belonged to a wealthy merchant or tradesman, had a mix of scavenged furniture to include a large table, set with partially consumed food and drink. It seemed he had interrupted their dinner meals, meat stew of some kind by the look and smell.
Aerion didn't miss the cheerful fire and ample firewood or how Vuk's men looked better fed and dressed than the other refugees.
"Welcome to my humble abode, Captain Swordbreaker," Vuk said as he settled into the largest chair, an ornate wooden one that would have looked more impressive if not for the fact that it leaned on a mismatched set of legs. "I have to say, I've heard a great deal about you." He did not offer Aerion or Jarek the opportunity to sit, though he did wave them forward.
