Fire and Sword

by Dylan Doose

  “Her?” Aldous asked, then before Ken could respond, he realized… “What makes you think we are going to face her again? What makes you think I am going to take any part in a witch hunt?”

  “Because you hate magic—you hate it and you fear it. She’s what you hate; she’s what you fear you will become. And given what you are, do you really think that at some point she won’t come looking for you?”

  Aldous jumped from his chair and paced back and forth. “What do you mean, come looking for me? Why would she do that?”

  “Because you hate magic—you hate it and you fear it. But you are magic. It’s what you are.”

  “I am beginning to get sick of other people telling me how I feel, Kendrick, very sick of it.” The rage was coming back, and it grew all the worse, feeding off itself. A flash sweat came over him, hot, then cold, then hot.

  “Am I wrong?” Kendrick asked, his back to Aldous as he stood in the doorway.

  Aldous wanted to yell that Kendrick was wrong, that he didn’t know Aldous’ mind, know his heart. He wanted to yell that he was a man, not a boy to be told how to think. And then he no longer wanted to yell, for only a boy would rant. A man would think. “You’re not wrong,” he said at last. “What about you, Ken? Why do you care about the witch? You’re alive, she is gone, and Theron is gone. You could just leave.”

  “We saw evil, lad.” Something in Ken’s voice sounded like fear. “We saw real evil. We saw the thing that wants nothing but death for the whole human race. I’ve done terrible things, Aldous. I deserve a thousand deaths in the worst kind of ways.” He paused. “I don’t want what I deserve. I want redemption.”

  Kendrick turned, and Aldous looked in his eyes, his dark, cruel, beady eyes.

  “Killing her, will that wash away all the blood on your hands?”

  Ken gave a short laugh, a sad laugh. A terrible, lonely sound.

  “I took part in an attempted genocide, lad. Nothing will ever, in this life or any other, wash the blood off me. It runs deeper than flesh and it drowns my soul.”

  “Then why try?”

  “Because I don’t want to die, and the only thing that stops me from dying at my own hand is a purpose that makes me better than I was,” Ken said in his perfectly calm tone. He turned and walked down the hall. “Now come and eat before I show you how to pick up the sword.”

  * * *

  Chayse had been questioning Theron about Kendrick since the moment he’d told her that the man was a guest at the estate. She had been hard to calm as a child when she latched on to an idea, and it appeared that she was even more difficult to appeal to as a woman.

  “I don’t like this. I don’t trust him. He could have robbed us blind and murdered everyone under your employ while you were gone!” Chayse said for the hundredth time. They were nearly home now, and her agitation only escalated the closer they got.

  “I already thought of that,” Theron said casually, and bit into an apple he had picked from a tree in an orchard. It was sour, and he frowned at the fruit before he tossed it.

  “You already thought of that?” Chayse laughed and shook her head. “And you left him there anyway?”

  “He has honor. He is not some mad rogue who kills indiscriminately.”

  “That’s exactly what he is! He is a cold-blooded murderer. He killed his own wife, murdered her after deserting the army.”

  It was Theron who laughed now. “How do you know? Were you there? Don’t be so ignorant, little sister. I expect more from you than to believe every rumor you hear.”

  “He took part in the king’s genocide in the east. That is not rumor. At least admit that. He slaughtered Brynthian citizens who stood against the king’s campaign. How can you not feel ill at the mere sight of the man?”

  “You speak in the past tense, Chayse. He did those things. Or so it is said. But even if he did, even if he was that man, he is that man no longer. He was a man who did as he was ordered. When you were in Azria you did the same.”

  “How dare you! How dare you compare me to that monster.”

  Theron turned to his sister. She was on the verge of tears, and this was not what he wanted, especially since they had just so recently reunited. “Do you really believe that? Do you really believe that orders justify genocide?”

  “I saved his life,” Theron yelled. “In the dungeon, I saved his life. I’m responsible for him now.” He paused, and when his sister didn’t answer, he said, “Chayse, please. Just give the man a chance to prove his worth.”

  “I will be civil, that is all. You are Lord of Wardbrook, and so I will be civil to your guest. Do not ask anything else of me.”

  “Thank you.” Theron offered his sister a smile; she did not return it. “And do dry your tears, sister; we are home, and I would not have you puffy-eyed and red-cheeked when you meet our guests.”

  Chayse gave him a look of such venom he thought she might draw her bow and shoot him dead where he was.

  * * *

  Aldous was in the courtyard, armed, standing side by side with Ken. He watched intently as Ken demonstrated sword strokes, then nearly tripped over his own feet when a shrill whistle sounded from behind.

  Ken turned. “Lord Wardbrook!” he called out, and waved his hand.

  “Theron! You’ve returned,” Aldous cried, and made an attempt to casually stick the sword he had been practicing with into the grass; it penetrated topsoil then fell over. Aldous looked at it, aghast, and said, “Heavy hilt.”

  “Don’t start calling me lord just because you’ve seen the estate,” Theron said after he closed the distance and hopped down from his horse.

  Ken looked at him for a long moment, and then said, “Thank you.”

  “What for?” Theron asked.

  “You know what for, you bastard.” Ken’s mouth twitched on one side in what Aldous thought might be a smile.

  Theron smiled back and reached over to clap Aldous on the back.

  “My friends, there is someone I would like you to meet. This”—he made a grand sweep with his hand—“is Chayse.”

  Aldous felt woozy just looking at her. She was magnificent. Completely and utterly magnificent. She sat high atop her black mare like some ancient goddess. She wore a sleeveless chain mail shirt; her arms were muscled, and tattooed from the shoulder to the elbow with black-inked symbols from a faraway world. One of the brothers in the church had such markings, for he had been a hardened sailor before he joined the priesthood. Brown leather covered powerful thighs that clung to the black mare with potency. Despite her formidable physique, her face remained feminine and elegant. She had high cheekbones beneath wide yellow-brown eyes, a small nose, and full lips with a sharp jaw. She was… She was… She—

  “Aldous, land ho, wake up, sailor!” Theron waved his hand in front of Aldous’ face.

  “Theron?” he asked as if being woken from a dream.

  “Indeed.”

  Kendrick was snickering to the side—at what, Aldous was not sure.

  “Thisssss,” Theron began very slowly as he palmed Aldous’ head with one hand and pointed to the goddess with the other. “Is. My. Sister. Chayse. Say. Hello.”

  “Chayse.” Aldous repeated the name like a man possessed. She hopped down from her black mare and extended her hand.

  Aldous felt his face burn, and his palms got sweaty in a flash. He extended his hand and although everything in him screamed don’t you say it, he said it: “You are a goddess.”

  “A goddess, am I?” the goddess asked.

  “She most certainly is not,” Theron said with a laugh.

  Aldous took her hand and he blushed.

  There was a terrible noise that tore Aldous from the moment, and he turned to see Theron holding his sides and laughing like a madman.

  “A goddess, he says!” Theron howled and shoved his sister, who turned to her brother, fury in her eyes. “Yes, indeed, young Aldous Weaver. My sister is a belching, farting, feasting, beast-slaying goddess. Wait till you see her at dinner! Or ev
en worse, in the morning!” Theron howled until there was the crack of the back of Chayse’s hand up the side of Theron’s head.

  “Ow!” Theron yelled, then he turned to Ken and Aldous. “It has claws.” He snickered for a moment then received another hard slap.

  He stared at his sister in complete befuddlement.

  “I am a little girl no longer, brother, and if you aim to bully me as you did when we were children, you will be in for a thrashing.”

  Her fury only made her more wonderful in Aldous’ eyes. Watching a woman strike a man such as Theron was a most exciting thing to see. He readjusted his trousers so that it was not visible exactly how exciting he thought it to be.

  “Oh, no. You’re a strong woman now. There will be no more teasing.” Theron bowed then turned back to Aldous. “You are right, she is a most magnificent specimen.”

  Chayse then turned to Kendrick, who tilted his head down and looked at her.

  “This, dear sister, is my friend Kendrick. He helped save the lives of me and Aldous from a most certain and horrific fate,” Theron said in an attempt to break the obvious tension. Aldous assumed Chayse had heard about Ken what most people had heard of him. And she was clearly not entirely pleased with the reputation that preceded the man before her.

  “My lady,” Ken said, bowing his head a bit more.

  “If my brother has you calling him Theron, then do call me Lady Chayse.”

  “Good,” Theron said. “Introductions have been made. I was going to say be ready to start training tomorrow, but it appears you two have already begun.”

  “Training for what?” Chayse asked.

  “Preparing for our great foe.” Theron’s smile faded, and Aldous wondered what had stolen his good humor. “You three will be joining me in my hunting from hence forth, and ultimately together we will take the head of the Emerald Witch.”

  “Why hunt her?” Aldous asked. “Why not just let her be? She’s gone. She left. Why not leave it at that?”

  “I saw a rat on the road. If they are not gone, then neither is she. So we hunt monsters.”

  “That’s strange,” said Ken.

  “What is?”

  “I do not remember agreeing to taking up the profession of monster hunting with you.”

  “Ah, I apologize. I must have forgotten to ask. Do you have more pressing things to attend? Or perhaps a dream to start a farm?” Theron asked. “And you, Aldous, you too look dubious. Perhaps you would like to go back to copying scripture?” Theron paused and scratched his chin. “I doubt they will have you back, though. You would have to ask nicely.”

  Aldous tried to form a rebuttal, but before he could utter a sound, Theron continued, “No. Won’t happen. You’re not going back to scripture, and Ken’s not going to start a farm. We are bound by friendship, we are bound by battle, and now we shall be bound by the hunt. Objections?”

  “Well, you did say we were friends.”

  “Indeed, and friendship goes both ways. We shall survive on my wealth, my land, and the influence of my name, and you will share my fights. All of them. Do we have a deal?”

  “I’ve fought on shitty terms for men far worse than the likes of you, you scoundrel, so yeah. We have a deal,” Ken said.

  “You have always hunted alone, Theron. You told me so back in the Norburg dungeon,” Aldous said. “So why do you need us now? Ken I can understand, but what use could I be?” He thought of his father, who had not fought the monsters who came for him, who burned him alive.

  “Your use is twofold, good Aldous, and therefore you are the most important to our band,” Theron said.

  “I really don’t want to be the most important,” Aldous mumbled.

  “You are the most important because not only—” Theron said, at the same time Aldous said, “Ken, tell him I am not the most important.” Aldous shook Ken’s thick arm, but Ken pulled away, and with one large hand palmed Aldous’ head and turned it back to Theron.

  “—not only because you are a wizard, Aldous, but because you are a writer. You will one day document all of our great journeys, the adventures of the legendary Theron Ward and his hunters.”

  Chayse coughed. “Your hunters? I’m going inside. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a bath. It was a pleasure to meet you, Aldous Weaver.”

  Butterflies of excitement and nausea mixed in his stomach at her words.

  Chayse nodded to Aldous and trotted off toward the estate.

  “The… the pleasure was mine,” Aldous said to her back before returning his gaze to Theron. “Theron, listen. Listen. I thought that maybe I would take up this quest, to save Brynth and all that. I thought that this very morning, but, well, me and Ken have been out here for hours and I can’t even stab the ground properly. I don’t think I will be much help in a fight.”

  Ken ruffled Aldous’ hair. “It takes time, lad.”

  Aldous continued to protest, but Theron stopped listening. He simply stood there and smiled.

  * * *

  “Where did they go?” she asked, tears filling her eyes, her golden hair untamed from sleep.

  “Away. They went away,” he replied, his tone hollow, his eyes vacant.

  “Where is away? For how long?” she asked. She grabbed her older brother and tried to shake him, for he was taking his time to respond.

  “Father said he wouldn’t leave when Mother left,” he said to the air, to the empty house, more than to her. “He lied,” he whispered to the vacant home. “He lied! He lied and they abandoned us!” His screams echoed in the lonely palace.

  She began to weep and weep. “For how long have they abandoned us?”

  Again she shook her brother. She wanted him to come back to her, for he was not there. He was hollow like his tone, hollow like their home. “For how long?”

  He sneered, drying tracks of tears rolling down each of his cheeks. “Abandonment is forever.”

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Battle Within

  His arms were heavy, the shield was heavy, the wooden sword was heavy. After a thousand strokes, and a thousand blocks, anything became heavy. Tomorrow they will be lighter, Aldous told himself. He took a deep breath; the cold early winter air cooled his burning lungs. A single snowflake fell before Aldous and was white on the dark mud for an instant before it faded.

  He slowly circled his foe, a monster of a man, a mountain of muscle who stood sneering in the center of the hard mud circle. He looked for some weakness in his foe’s defense, as he had each and every day, before he charged, and each and every day he ended up on his back, unable to breathe.

  Every man can be defeated, even him.

  As the days had turned to weeks and the weeks to a month, Aldous had begun to enjoy the pain of combat. He enjoyed how physical suffering was the currency spent to purchase physical strength. He could see in the mirror as his soft cheeks turned sharp and hollow, as his bony arms thickened with wiry muscle, and how the reflection of the eyes of the frightened deer turned to those of the hungry wolf.

  Commit to the finish before you attack. Theron had told him that. One last breath and Aldous charged, as he had charged the rat a month ago. But he did not waver now; he was committed, so he charged in silence and with great focus.

  Shield up. The wooden staff of his foe crashed hard into the buckler. Aldous did not take the blow in full force; instead he spun off it to the brute’s right flank. Sword raised. Strike!

  He felt impact on the back of his knee… he was off his feet… he was in the air. He was on his back. Unable to breathe.

  “Up you get, wizard! Until you learn a spell you’re going to have to get used to weapons and taking a beating up close,” said Ken.

  Every man can be defeated, even Ken.

  Aldous rolled over and onto his knees then dug his sparring sword into the mud and flung it into Ken’s face. It hit the mark more out of luck than pinpoint accuracy, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was taking Ken down, even once.

  Aldo
us sprang to his feet, sword at the ready.

  “Bravo!” shouted Theron from outside the sparring circle. “You’re learning, boy.”

  Ken did not so much as attempt to brush the mud from his eyes. He charged at Aldous, swinging his wooden staff with cold intent. Aldous raised his shield and took a hard blow. Only when the blow connected did Aldous realize his mistake, for the block gave away his position. If I had dodged, Ken would not be certain of…

  The staff drove into his sternum with such force that Aldous was sure he was impaled and soon to die. Only when he hit the ground, foaming at the mouth, did Ken brush the mud from his eyes.

  “Good attempt, lad, good attempt,” Ken said before walking out of the circle to sip from his canteen.

  Aldous tried to sip at the air, desperately attempting to get some life back into his lungs. Ken had never hit him that hard before. I shouldn’t have flung mud.

  But this was the first time Ken had hit him that hard. That had to mean something.

  The price of progress was the bruise he’d have by tomorrow.

  After what felt like eternity, Aldous could again breathe at his own will.

  “You still alive?” Ken asked, snickering. He was sitting on a stool outside of the circle, completely relaxed. The man could have taken down ten Aldouses and still not have broken a sweat.

  “I think so,” Aldous said, coughing. “I’m just glad we are on the same team, when the real fighting starts.”

  “Yes, we are quite lucky to have Ken,” said Theron, “and I don’t doubt that you will prove to be just as useful when the time comes. But until then, Ken is your enemy. Take a breather, and some water, maybe some wine, and then ready yourself for another round.”

  This was how it went most days. The first time Aldous tried talking his way out of further sparring, he had told them he was too tired. Chayse had been most irritated by that, and gave him a few hard slaps upside the head, along with a splash of cold water to wake him up.