A Kalvaman dove into Jendara's shoulder, sending her staggering away from Kran's side. His hunting knife slashed down at her eyes, skittering off her forehead. She slammed the shaft of her spear sideways into his throat. His corpse-white eyes bulged as he slid to the ground. Jendara swiped blood out of her eyes and plunged forward.
Kalira had bent over Kran to hoist him up. Her face twisted as she saw Jendara charge her. She leaped to her feet, sword in hand.
The spearhead drove into her gut, punching through and out the other side. Kalira went stiff. The crow in her headdress shrieked, a thin, piercing cry.
The shaft of the spear burst into white light.
Jendara dropped to the ground, covering her face. This light was brighter than the brilliance that had surrounded the dying red elk, brighter than the sun and the moon and the stars all combined. A hundred voices sang out in triumph.
The crow screamed and screamed.
Jendara raised her head, arm still shielding her eyes. The light was fading—no, it wasn't fading: it was soaking into Kalira, rising up inside her body, lighting her up from the inside. Her face began to glow softly. The black brand of a crow's wings across her collarbone began to smoke.
"By the isles," Jendara breathed. Kalira's hair rippled as tendrils of pale mist ran out from her scalp and twisted around her head and throat. The black smoke rose up from her collarbone and struck at the mist.
Faintly, Jendara heard snarls and growls, and couldn't have guessed if they came from the battle around her or from the strange stuff boiling out of Kalira's body. Her hand dropped to her side. She couldn't tear her eyes away.
Kalira's headdress crumbled into bits and the crow flopped free, its body motionless. It fell onto the sand. With one final puff, the last of the crow wings disappeared from Kalira's collarbone. A cloud of blue mist twisted out of her scalp, absorbing the wisps of black steam. There was a sudden flare of light, and then Kalira fell to the sand. Ordinary moonlight illuminated her limp body.
Someone tapped Jendara's leg. She whipped out her belt knife, then fell to her knees. Kran stared up at her. He held up his hand. A raw cut ran across the top of it, the flesh around it an ordinary pink. Kalira's magic was gone.
Jendara hugged Kran to her chest, staring at her sister. There was no sign of the spear, just a bloodstained gash in her leathers. Kran pushed himself free of the hug, his eyes huge.
Jendara didn't trust her legs. Some part of herself had gone into that fight, as if she had lent the spirits her own strength. She crawled to her sister's side.
"Kalira?"
Kalira's eyes flickered open. "Jenny?" Her voice was small, the soft sweet tones of the young girl Jendara remembered.
Jendara stroked her cheek. "It's me. I'm here. I came back." A faint breeze stirred Kalira's hair, sweeping the white tendrils back from her forehead.
"Something terrible happened, didn't it?"
"Yes. But it's going to be all right." Jendara's shoulders shook. She saw the pool of blood spreading out from beneath Kalira, staining the sand in a widening circle.
"Don't cry, Jenny. I've got Father to take care of me now. And we'll both be here, watching over you."
Jendara pulled her closer and bent to kiss her sister's forehead. "I love you, Kallie. I love you so much."
Kalira's hand squeezed Jendara's. Jendara pressed her cheek to Kalira's and watched the sky grow light in the east. Somewhere overhead, a cormorant called. Its voice resounded, thin and tired. It was on its way home.
paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter Twenty-Three
Family
Jendara sat on the beach beside the canoe, watching the peaceful gray waves. Kran tapped her shoulder and held out a mug of tea. Jendara smiled at the boy. "Thank you."
He squeezed her shoulder and kissed her cheek.
Jendara rubbed her eyes. She felt weak, her head foggy. The ancestors had given her back Kalira, if only for a few seconds. All these years she'd cursed them for abandoning her family, and they did this for her. She wasn't sure she understood it all.
"Your trip to the Wise went well, didn't it?"
Gerda had appeared beside Kran. The boy looked worried, but Gerda had a smile stretched across her face.
Jendara hated to see her so smug. She put down the mug. "What was it like when you went to them?"
"Terrifying," Gerda said. "But hearing the ancestors was more than worth it." She cocked her head. "You can't hear them right now?"
Jendara shook her head. "I think all of that went into the spear. Now that it's gone, I'm just ordinary." She shrugged. "I never wanted to be a wisewoman, anyway."
Gerda glanced over her shoulder, where a group of Kalvamen stood, their wrists bound. "Morul and Jorgen have rounded up the last of the Kalvamen," she explained. "They want you to decide what should happen to them."
Jendara studied the survivors. They looked so thin and poor and sad, in their shabby hide cloaks and their mismatched clothes. Kalva was a hard place. It wore out its people fast. She sighed. "I'm sick of seeing dead people."
Gerda waited.
"We should send them home. Take their weapons and any hides so they're not a threat, then give them enough water and supplies to make sure they get back to their island. And warn them they'd better never show their faces here again." Jendara squeezed her mug. She hoped she was doing the right thing. She knew she couldn't change Kalva, but at least her people could show the Kalvamen what mercy meant.
Gerda looked carefully at Jendara. "You're sure?"
Jendara nodded.
"A fine choice." Gerda smiled. "It's the kind of thing your father would have done."
She turned to go meet with Morul, and Jendara folded her arms across her knees. The wind rustled in her ear. It felt warmer than the breeze against her face, like the soft breath of a whisper.
Maybe she hadn't lost all of her abilities to hear the spirits, after all.
Kran caught her eye and grabbed a stick. Breakfast? he wrote in the sand.
Her stomach grumbled. An hour ago, she couldn't have imagined eating. But things felt different now. "I'd love some."
She watched him run across the beach to a makeshift camp. He skidded to a halt beside a thin woman she didn't recognize, sitting beside Fambra. Fambra patted the woman on the arm, then got up from the fireside, stopping first to kiss Sven. She jogged toward Jendara.
"I started some porridge," she said, "but there'll be sausage in a few minutes. Not much—we found a handful of prisoners when we flushed out the Kalvamen's camp, and those people were hungry." She sank down in the sand beside Jendara. "You doing okay?"
Jendara watched Kran hunkering down to write a message to the thin woman. "Was that woman one of them?"
"Her name's Marga. She's one of the healthiest—she wanted to help me cook for the others. Kran seems to have taken a liking to her."
Marga. Hazan's girl. Jendara's heart lurched: there was one promise she'd managed to keep, or at least her fighters had. She watched Kran for another moment.
"I don't understand," she said, turning toward Fambra. "How do you work as a smuggler with a son? Aren't you terrified you'll be arrested and leave him alone?"
"It helps to have an in with the city guard." Fambra shrugged. "Besides, if something happened to me, Rowri wouldn't be alone. He has Sven and Gerda and an entire clan to take care of him."
"What's that like?" Jendara wondered.
"Don't be silly," Fambra said. "You know full well that the people of Sorind think you're family, and you've got the Milady out there with a captain and crew that would anything for your boy." She grinned. "Plus, you're probably an honorary member of the Dagfridrung clan after all you've done for us."
"Don't let them talk you into joining," Jorgen said, dropping down beside his cousin. "When the Dagfridrungs throw a party, everyone gets drunk and tells embarrassing stories about each other. I don't think I want you hearing about my youth." He cocked his
head. "Have you ever considered life as an Iron Shield?"
"What?"
"Seriously," he said. "You impressed me out there, and Vorrin's not going to be able to make a trip to Varisia this winter. You've got what it takes to be a great guard."
"A guard." Jendara reached up with her right hand to tuck a stray hair back into place, then stopped. A black mark still showed within the silver circle of scar tissue. She rubbed it, feeling a faint buzzing. "The stain didn't go away when Kalira died. That means that poison is still in me."
"Not much," Fambra scoffed.
"Yeah, but some. The only thing keeping it from spreading is that circle the ancestor spirits made." She looked from Fambra to Jorgen. "Do you think their magic still works on the mainland?"
"Why risk it?" Fambra said. She slung her arm around Jendara. "You know, it might be nice for me to have another connection down in Halgrim."
Jendara grinned and looked back at the fire where Kran was busily telling stories in the sand. He had nearly died last night, and yet now he looked so happy. Maybe he belonged on these islands as much as she did.
She glanced back at Jorgen. The shield-shaped brooch pinned to his collar gleamed. Just a few short years ago, she would have been on the run from a guard like him. Now they were friends. She absently rubbed the faded jolly roger on her left hand. Crime was behind her—but she still knew it. Wasn't that the perfect background for a guardswoman?
"I'll think about it," she said. She threw back her head and laughed. "I can't believe I just said that! I used to be a pirate!" She caught her breath. "But first I have some business to take care of."
Fambra sobered. "Kalira. We should do something with her body." She reached into her pocket. "I found this. It was hers, wasn't it?" She held out the broken soapstone pendant.
Jendara took it. The fire opals winked like tiny flames. "Yes. But I don't think I could burn it with her. I think...I'll leave it on our clan shrine at the top of the hill." Her throat felt suddenly tight.
Shouting from the water distracted her. Jendara looked up. A small boat moved toward shore, and aboard it, Glayn waved at her. He bellowed again. He looked impatient, and Tam was rowing hard. She waved back. She hoped they were coming to take her to the Milady—and that Vorrin was on board. After all this, she was ready to hold him tight.
"After you take care of your sister," Fambra asked, "then what?"
Jendara grinned. "Then I need to teach my son to hunt."
About the Author
Wendy N. Wagner writes sad poetry about dinosaurs and funny stories about evil druids. Her short fiction has appeared in anthologies like Armored and The Way of the Wizard, and in many online magazines. This is her first novel. Jendara, Vorrin, and several other characters from this novel first appeared in the Pathfinder Tales web fiction story "Mother Bears," available for free at paizo.com/pathfindertales.
Wendy lives with her family in Portland, Oregon, where she also teaches writing for youth. An avid gardener and board gamer, she can be found online at winniewoohoo.com.
Acknowledgments
First, I'd like to thank the great team over at Paizo for giving me a chance to play in their universe. My terrific editor, James Sutter, did an amazing job helping me understand Golarion and develop Jendara's story—I honestly don't think I can ever thank him enough. I'd also like to thank Florian Stitz, who drew the artwork for "Mother Bears." Florian's vision of Jendara was really inspirational while I was writing this book.
I can't explain how much I owe to my wonderful husband John and daughter Fiona, who not only put up with my flaky writerly ways and endless talk about cannibals and Viking ships, but even played Pathfinder with me so I could really understand the system. A big shout-out goes to my brother Jak, the best GM anyone could ask for.
Writing a book is hard, but I'm lucky to have the support of amazing friends. Thank you to all the Inkpunks, but especially to Galen Dara—who inspired Jendara, in more than just name—and Christie Yant, who has been my biggest cheerleader. I owe Minerva Zimmerman chocolate cake and drinks for her help with nautical research. Anything that makes sense when I talk about boats is because of her; the errors are all mine. Most of all, I have to thank Jeffrey Petersen, who read this book in its early phase and caught jillions of stupid mistakes.
But the biggest thank you goes out to the Pathfinder Tales web fiction readers who read "Mother Bears" and asked for a Jendara novel—you made my dreams come true. This book is for you.
Glossary
All Pathfinder Tales novels are set in the rich and vibrant world of the Pathfinder campaign setting. Below are explanations of several key terms used in this book. For more information on the world of Golarion and the strange monsters, people, and deities that make it their home, see The Inner Sea World Guide, or dive into the game and begin playing your own adventures with the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Core Rulebook or the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Beginner Box, all available at paizo.com. Those readers particularly interested in the Lands of the Linnorm Kings should check out Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Lands of the Linnorm Kings and Pathfinder Player Companion: People of the North.
Absalom: Largest city in the Inner Sea region, located on an island far to the south of the Ironbound Archipelago.
Alstone: Small village on Flintyreach, devoted to fishing, farming, and mining a local quarry.
Averaka: Town on Flintyreach populated primarily by half-orcs.
Battlewall: Most heavily populated island in the Ironbound Archipelago, and the seat of power for those archipelago islands controlled by the Linnorm Kings.
Besmara: Goddess of piracy, strife, and sea monsters.
Cheliax: A powerful devil-worshiping nation located on the mainland south of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.
Chelish: Of or relating to the nation of Cheliax.
Crow's Nest: Small island in the Ironbound Archipelago.
Desna: Good-natured goddess of dreams, stars, travelers, and luck.
Dragon's Rib: Large, uninhabited island in the Ironbound Archipelago.
Erastil: Stag-headed god of farming, hunting, trade, and family; also known as Old Deadeye.
Fey: Magical creatures deeply tied to the natural world, such as dryads or pixies.
Flintyreach: Large island in the Ironbound Archipelago; populated but still infested with trolls and other dangerous creatures.
Garund: Tropical continent far to the south of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.
Giants: Race of brawny humanoids many times larger than humans.
Gnomes: Small humanoids with strange mind-sets, originally from the First World.
Half-Orcs: Born from unions between humans and orcs, members of this race have green or gray skin, brutish appearances, and notoriously short tempers, and are mistrusted by many societies.
Halgrim: Capital city of the portion of the Ironbound Archipelago controlled by the Linnorm Kings. Seat of power for White Estrid.
Iron Shields: The Halgrim city guard.
Ironbound Archipelago: Network of cold islands off the coast of Varisia and the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. The largest population center in the Steaming Sea, though the residents are rarely more organized than local villages. Partially independent, with the northern islands controlled by the Linnorm Kings.
Inner Sea Region: The central focus of the Pathfinder campaign setting, named for the large sea that fosters trade between the continents of Avistan and Garund. The Lands of the Linnorm Kings represent the northernmost edge of the region.
Isle of Ancestors: Island where heroes from certain islands in the Ironbound Archipelago go to commune with their ancestors and become wisewomen and shamans.
Kalva: Cold and forbidding island north of the Ironbound Archipelago, notorious for its barbaric cannibal tribes.
Kalvamen: Residents of Kalva, legendary for their savagery and cannibalism.
Katapesh: Mighty trade nation on the eastern coast of Garund.
Kintargo: Port city in Cheliax.
Lands of the Linnorm Kings: Nation ruled by an alliance of the various Linnorm Kings
Linnorm Kings: Warrior-chieftains who dominate the larger settlements of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings and together rule the nation, each of whom must defeat a linnorm to claim a throne.
Magnimar: Port city in southwestern Varisia, best known for its many monuments, including the enormous bridge called the Irespan.
Norn: Fey creature concerned with fate and gifted with the power to see the future.
Orcmoot: Town on Flintyreach founded by half-orcs.
Pathfinder Society: Organization of traveling scholars and adventurers who seek to document the world's wonders. Based out of Absalom and run by a mysterious and masked group called the Decemvirate.
Skinwalkers: Shape-changing humanoids who can magically take on the forms or aspects of particular animals.
Sorind: Small island in the Ironbound Archipelago, devoted mainly to farming and fishing.
Trolls: Large, stooped humanoids with sharp claws and amazing regenerative powers that are overcome only by fire.
Ulfen: Race of pale, viking-like humans from the cold nations of the north, primarily the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.
Varisia: Frontier region at the northwestern edge of the Inner Sea region, just south of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.
Werebear: Lycanthropes with the power to turn into bears. Unlike skinwalkers, werebears are generally reputed to be highly ethical guardians of nature and the innocent.
White Estrid: The only female Linnorm King, who gained her status not by killing a linnorm but by enslaving it. Rules a portion of the Ironbound Archipelago from her fortress in Halgrim.
Wise: Local term used by wisewomen and shamans in the Ironbound Archipelago to refer to the collected wisdom, magic, and practices of their ancestral traditions.
Table of Contents
Pathfinder Tales: Skinwalkers Page 28
