Admiral's Lady: Eyes of Ice, Heart of Fire

by Luke Sky Wachter

  It was a rite of passage in the northlands, Akantha had been taught, and not one which most men dared attempt. Every polis has its ways of testing the young, allowing them to prove in relatively objective terms their fitness to join the highest ranks of society. Although, she did not know how they would qualify as a distinct polis without having any actual city-states, arranged only as loose bands of rovers with a few agreed upon meeting places. What she was sure of, however, was that the northlanders were formidable warriors.

  Every single man wore a full-length cloak of cat skin, and they were fitted with weapons and armor which were economical and practical, if a bit primitive by comparison to the gear Akantha’s party bore. There were forged metal blades, some of them crude iron, some bronze. There were other weapons which were sharpened stone, similar in style and quality to Leonora’s, which was surprising to Akantha. Their armors were designed much more for mobility and stealth than for an out-and-out slugfest, consisting of thick, heavily worked leather strips criss-crossing in various patterns, with studs or bands of metal to cover the difficult-to-defend spaces like under the arms.

  The roaring laughter slowed and eventually ceased as Akantha made her way into the room and found the eyes of every man gathered around the fire. They were not young men, but neither were they overly old: there probably wasn’t a man present who was older than forty or younger than thirty.

  “My Lady,” came the voice of a huge man who bore a great scar across his face, or rather, a trio of scars across his face which had very obviously claimed his right eye. He stood to his massive height and moved toward her, maintaining a respectful distance before stopping to offer a half-bow, “We are honored with your presence,” he said in a deep, thick accent which Akantha had learned as a little girl belonged to the Northerners.

  “I am not your Lady,” Akantha said politely, returning the bow with a tilt of her head, “but you honor me with your presence.”

  There was a round of snickering from behind the man, which was silenced instantly when he cocked his head every-so-slightly in the direction of the sounds. He held the pose for a moment before beaming a smile which, prior to his mutilation, must have been quite charming. “My men and I have traveled far and wide in our search,” he said in his gravelly, thickly accented voice, “and we truly hope that we have found that which we seek here in your lands.”

  Akantha eyed him suspiciously. “I am afraid I do not know of what you seek,” she said politely, “but I trust Persus has informed you of our quarry.”

  The scarred man nodded slowly, his smile shifting to a mischievous grin. “Oh, aye, that he has,” he said gruffly, “which is the only reason we are having such a pleasant conversation just now,” he winked.

  Akantha’s eyes narrowed but before she could say anything, her bodyguard interrupted.

  “Hold Mistress,” Persus said quickly, “this is Kratos One Eye. He and his men are Black Arrows from the Northern Reaches, over three hundred leagues away.”

  Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t resist the urge to place her hand on the hilt of her axe. “Persus, I ordered you to gather warriors to protect our Hold,” she growled, “not Ice Raiders and night bandits who feed on the labors of our good people.”

  There was silence throughout the barn, but every man assembled drew himself to his feet. It only dawned on her a few seconds later that none of them had made so much as a single sound in the process; not a clattering of weaponry against armor, or the clinking of chains, or even the creaking of hardened leather. Not a single sound came from any of the twelve seated men as they drew themselves up behind their leader, looking every bit the pack of hungry predators.

  Kratos One Eye held up an open hand, and the posture of his pack immediately changed. He kept his mischievous grin and held Akantha’s gaze in his single, icy blue eye. “What the lady says is true,” he said to his men, “we are Ice Raiders and night bandits, and we shouldn’t act insulted when someone says it to our faces.”

  The Black Arrows hesitated as a group, but then one of them chuckled and said something in their native tongue, which started the rest of them snickering, and Akantha decided that was a good thing. She reluctantly released the grip on her axe, but never took her eyes off Kratos.

  She started when Persus placed his hand on her shoulder. “My Lady, on my honor, we have nothing to fear from these men,” Persus assured her. Kratos chuckled and nodded at this.

  Akantha bit her lip, and after a few seconds asked, “I’m sorry I have to ask, but what guarantee do I have of that?”

  “If you will allow me to expl-“ Persus began, but was cut off by Kratos.

  “The fourteen of us set out from our homes over three moons ago, and if we do not return by the close of the fourth, we are outcasts,” said the one-eyed mountain of a man. “You may know us as ‘Ice Raiders’ and ‘night bandits,’ my beautiful young woman,” he continued coldly, “but we are merely as you are: trying to do the best we can for those who depend upon us. It has always been a trial of the North that when a man wishes to rise in station, he must blood himself by a foe who is better than he is.”

  Her teeth were gritted as she forced herself not to lash out at Kratos’ disrespectful comment regarding her beauty. “And who determines when a foe is better than the man on trial,” Akantha asked icily, more than a little curious in spite of herself.

  Kratos laughed, which was a harsh, grating sound. “My Lady, if a man does not know his own betters, then he is but a foolish boy,” he said knowingly. “Understanding with absolute certainty that your opponent is better than you are, and that you still must somehow defeat him, is the final lesson required for our men to take their rightful place in the world.”

  She felt her blood beginning to boil. Akantha was most certainly not their Lady, nor was she the Lady of any road bandits. “I have two questions then,” she began with a sickly sweet smile, “the first is: have none of you, in three full moons found and defeated your betters?”

  Kratos shook his head. “Before this night, all but two of us had completed our charge in the witness of his clansmen, and would most assuredly be granted re-entry into the Clan Hall. But in our clan, brothers do not forsake each other. So we will remain until the task is complete, even if it means never going home.”

  Akantha nodded slowly. She did not trust these men any more at this particular moment than before, but at least she was beginning to understand them a little better. “So two of you still need to prove yourselves,” she began, “and you believe that tomorrow’s battle will provide you with the opportunity to do so. I suppose I can understand that. My other question is: you said ‘fourteen’ of you left together, while I count only thirteen. What happened to the other one?”

  The dozen men seated behind Kratos One Eye snickered again, and Persus rubbed his jaw slowly. She refused to show her confusion, so she waited impatiently for someone to answer.

  “Lady Zosime,” Kratos said calmly, “your man came upon us as we were about to raid a nearby farm hold for badly needed supplies,” he gestured toward the remains of the blackened carcass by the fire. “We had not eaten in a week, you see.”

  She did not see, but she had not missed the implication that he knew who she really was by his use of her family name. This is a very learned road bandit, she thought to herself suspiciously. She gestured for her to continue.

  The one eyed mountain of a man’s face hardened. “The youngest member of our quiver, Kairos, was barely into his twenty fifth year when we left.” Kratos paused before continuing, “A good strong lad, but he had yet to kill a true, battle-hardened warrior.” His eye shifted from Akantha over to Persus and held there for awhile before returning to Akantha. “Your man Persus presented a perfect opportunity.”

  Akantha’s eyes widened and she turned to look at Persus, who was still nervously rubbing his jaw. “Is this true,” she asked incredulously, “did you accept a duel with this Kairos?”

  Persus met her eyes for a
moment and made to reply, but was once again cut off by Kratos.

  “It’s not as if we gave him a choice in the matter, my Lady,” Kratos assured her with a grin, “it was either that or we dump what was left of him in the river and divide up his belongings. Personally, I’ve always wanted a southern-crafted sword like the one he’s got.”

  “This is how you lost your tooth and broke your nose, I assume,” she asked Persus flatly.

  Persus nodded. “Yes, my Lady,” he replied sheepishly. “I apologize.”

  She thought about it, but eventually she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “And where is this Kairos now,” she inquired.

  Kratos’ grin turned savage and he shrugged his shoulders. “As I said, my Lady: if a man does not know his own betters, then he is but a foolish boy. In our part of the world, we cannot afford to feed and clothe foolish boys any longer than we must. Rites of passage exist for a reason. For myself, I am glad to have my old hammer back,” he said with a pat to the largest stone-headed hammer Akantha had ever seen, which Kratos kept strapped across his back. “I gave it to my brother ten years ago, hoping he would grow both strong, and smart enough to use it. A foolish hope, as your man Persus so ably demonstrated.”

  Akantha was stunned. Persus had killed the brother of this giant of a man, and that is why they were here now? These men truly were uncouth barbarians, to speak so casually of a family member’s death.

  “Why would you pit your own brother against Persus if you knew he was not equal to the task,” she asked disapprovingly.

  Kratos shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands wide. “If a man cannot find a way through a stone wall, he must go around it. If he cannot survive a snowstorm, he must build a shelter. And if the only food available to him is poisoned, he must purify it. Solving problems is what makes us better than beasts. A stone wall, a snowstorm, or a poison are each more powerful than a man if taken at their strengths. The trick,” Kratos continued, tapping his temple with his finger, “is to outsmart them. If we cannot do that, we are nothing but animals. We do future generations harm by feeding and clothing those who cannot become more than animals.”

  Akantha shook her head slightly. “I still do not understand your ways, but I wish nothing more than to rid these lands of the Sky Demons before they cause more harm than they already have. If you swear on your blood that you will stand by us in this thing until it is resolved, then there will be no room for doubt between us.” She drew a small knife from her belt and held it between them.

  Kratos cocked his head and appeared to consider for a moment before nodding. “I have already made such a vow with your man Persus, but we are in your lands, so I will abide by your customs.” He abruptly turned and bashed his head into an upright timber which supported the roof, causing the entire building to shake momentarily. When he turned back to face her, his forehead was covered in small gashes and splinters, and he reached up with his bare hand to smear some of the blood onto his palm, which he then presented to her.

  Akantha went to cut her open palm with the knife, but Kratos shook his head adamantly. “No, Lady,” he said in a serious tone, “the blood of the hand is not the blood of the head, and they sometimes disagree. There must be no room for doubt between us.”

  His eye seemed to bore right through her, but she held fast and without breaking his gaze, she pointed the tip of the knife just below the hairline above her right ear and made a short, neat incision. A sharp, fiery pain seemed to spread across her scalp like fire through fish oil, but she didn’t mind. Like so many other things in life, she could endure a minor discomfort in pursuit of greater designs.

  After covering her palm with what she deemed was enough of her own blood, she grasped his monstrous hand. “It is done, Kratos One Eye,” she said commandingly. “We are allies in this thing until it is done.”

  Kratos nodded and squeezed her hand in what she imagined was a restrained portion of his crushing strength. “Aye, warrior maiden, that we are.”

  Akantha turned and left the small barn with Persus on her heel, and before long the roar of laughter had returned to the building.

  Akantha opened the door to Fedora Glaros’ house and was greeted by the sight of Leonora, Fedora and two other women sitting at the table working on preparing a truly massive array of grains in an apparent bread-making effort.

  “Lady Adonia,” Fedora beamed, her red hair was an unruly mess compared to the first time Akantha had seen her, but her countenance was as vibrant and lively as ever. “We are glad you return safely to us. In times like these, it is difficult to stop even the narrowest of minds from wandering down paths of despair,” she said with a knowing flick of her eyes to the woman seated next to Leonora. She was grey-haired, short and wizened, and she had not looked up when Akantha entered the room. Across from her was a truly massive woman, both in height and girth. Akantha guessed men would not find her pleasing to the eye, but what Akantha needed and what men liked to look at were worlds apart. She wore a shirt of bronze ring armor, and had a pair of finely made, if simply designed woodcutter’s axes cross-strapped to her back. The handles were shorter than they should have been, but other than that they appeared to be fine implements.

  “Fedora, I am pleased that you once again receive me in your fine home,” Akantha replied. “Lea, how did you fare in the recruitment?”

  Leonora looked pointedly at the hulking woman across the table from her, raised her eyebrows emphatically and said “Well, I’m not sure I quite made the quantity we would have liked…but I’m guessing there’s something to be said for the quality of my catch. I ended up with an even twenty: eighteen men and these two women.”

  The large woman stood from the table, and while she was only a few inches taller than Akantha, her girth was significantly more. This was not a particularly fat woman, and neither was she overly muscular; she was simply massive, more massive than all but the largest men.

  Akantha’s keen eye noticed that none of the new women bore swords, which in a time of war indicated that none had bonded Defenders for whom they would bear a sword.

  “My Lady Adonia,” she said in a deeper voice than Akantha had ever heard issue from a woman’s throat, “I am honored to defend the realm against her enemies, and I hope I will not bring shame to Argos on the field.”

  Akantha beamed the most genuine smile she could remember at the woman. “I would ask after your name, good woman,” Akantha asked with a tilt of her head.

  The woman stood herself as straight as she could, which only served to emphasize the absurd bulk she possessed, which seemed to almost rival Kratos One Eye’s. “My name is Bernice, Lady Adonia,” she said with an awkward bow.

  Akantha’s cocked an eyebrow. “Truly,” she asked Bernice. “If that is so, then I take it as a good omen, as you share a name with Bernice the Undefeated. It is said she never wanted for victory on the field of battle during her twenty year reign over the lands of the East.” Akantha knew that since the woman had not offered her family name, then she had no family to which she could lay claim. A life as a solitary warrior, wandering the land in search of purpose struck her as a terribly lonely, cold existence.

  Bernice grinned, and she surprisingly still had all of her teeth, at least all of the ones Akantha could see. “My Lady does me much honor,” she gushed. “But I would remind my Lady that my namesake was known not only for her conquests on the field of battle, but for her prowess in other forms of… contention off the field.”

  Akantha laughed heartily and nodded her head as she moved to the table, eyeing the old woman sitting there silently grinding grains in the small mill mounted on the corner of the table.

  “How did you do, my Lady,” Leonora asked pointedly as Akantha sat down at the table.

  Akantha shook her head. “Twenty six,” she replied sourly.

  “Twenty six,” Leonora asked, raising her eyebrows slightly, “putting our total recruits at fifty nine, if you include Persus’ entrants.”

  Akantha sighed.
“I fear we must include them, Lea,” she said wearily, “someone once told me something like ‘it is best to make do with what you have,’ and at this moment, I sincerely hope that person was right.”

  Leonora giggled. “Well, if you count Aetos, Fedora and the three of us, that brings us to sixty four. We can’t rule out Aetos bringing that number up over seventy with his ‘friends,’ either. I’d say the drive went better than we could have hoped for, to be perfectly honest.”

  Akantha was forced to agree with her. Cracking fifty recruits was a tall order on such short notice, and not only had they greatly exceeded that figure, but Persus had somehow singlehandedly brought in a full quiver of Black Arrow Ice Raiders. Those men were to road bandits as Nykator’s personal guard were to city watch, and worth at least three times their number of the farmer’s militia, especially if used properly. That brought their effective militia strength closer to a hundred than fifty, which was quite an accomplishment.

  Still, everything hinged on Leonora’s razorberry fungus plan, and Akantha was still unclear as to how they were supposed to use it.

  “I will apologize for my ignorance now, because I do not understand why you are preparing bread at this time,” Akantha said, her brow furrowing in confusion.

  Leonora grinned. “It’s all part of the plan, my Lady,” she assured her.

  Akantha was skeptical, but she heard a new voice begin to explain, and she turned to see the old woman had turned her milky white eyes toward her. Akantha felt her throat tighten, but she fought the urge to gasp. Seeing such lifeless, hollow eyes sent chills up and down every part of her body.

  “My Lady undoubtedly remembers that the smaller demon did not die when it consumed the razorberries,” the old woman croaked, “presumably because it detected the action of the Black Fungus and expelled it before the damage was too severe. Our aim here,” she continued, gesturing toward the various grains strewn across the table, “is to delay that detection until it is too late.”