Blade and Soul: A Dark Fantasy (Kindred Souls Book 2)

by C. M. Estopare

She thought of slipping under it.

  “Remy, you're released.” Ludovic called over his shoulder, “Send Kafka my regards.”

  “Right.” Remy replied, screaming to be heard above the din. She moved to stand before Ludovic, gave him a swift salute and turned on her heel. Disappeared into the constant flow of people and was gone.

  She didn't even bother to look.

  Marceline narrowed her eyes, I'll hold her to her word then.

  She refused to feel pain over this.

  “Am I free as well?”

  “Mhm?—oh!” Ludovic looked over his shoulder at Marceline, “Sure—yeah. I can show you to a temporary place. Look there,” he pointed across the bridge to a tower, “my alchemist lives there, quite alone. There's a little room you can take, I'll show you to it.”

  A crowd began to gather. Well-wishers. A surge of people exhilarated about the safe return of their leader.

  “Merci—,”

  “Ludovic—you bastard!”

  A large man parted the crowd with his booming voice. He wore the burgundy brigandine of a soldier. A gaggle of armored men rushed to follow him, joining him as the crowd parted and moved away from his powerful aura.

  Ludovic threw out his hands, “Severin!”

  Severin laughed, showing teeth. Swirling tribal tattoos carved through the skin of his mostly bald head, a flaming double braid slicing through the very middle. The long braid slithering down his back and swinging like a tiger's tail.

  Severin clasped Ludovic loosely on the back, “You've sent no raven—no word at all! We assumed you decided to desert us!”

  Ludovic laughed, a throaty guffaw Marceline raised her eyebrows at, “I was in the middle of nowhere—d'you think I should've captured a bird? Taught it to carry letters?”

  The bigger man burst into another fit of laughter, “Perhaps you ought've! Would've saved us the worry!”

  Marceline eyed them both with disdain, the growing crowd smothering her like smoke.

  Ludovic's smile faltered, “This is a friend I picked up from Baate Noir, Marceline.” turning to Marceline, Ludovic inclined his head, “Marceline, this is Severin, my commander.”

  Severin hawked. Spat on his hand and stretched it out, “Fort Endure welcomes you, friend!”

  Marceline grasped his forearm. Kept her face stoic as the big man grasped hers, the spit sliming to her chemise sleeve. She ignored it. Saw it as a test.

  “A new troop?” Severin asked.

  “She's an Agent of the Bann.” Ludovic explained, pride etching his words.

  Marceline watched for a flicker of resentment in the big man's crinkled eyes.

  She watched his smile capsize, saw it return but knew it was forced.

  Behind him, she watched his trainees poke their heads up over the crowd. Watched them mirror their commander's disdain.

  Giving Marceline another once over, Severin's warm eyes chilled. His face became a rigid mask. Stoic.

  “And what will you bring to the Spears, young miss?”

  Marceline gave him a once over of her own. She stood straighter, “I assume you do not trust agents?”

  He chuckled darkly, “Spies? Who can?” he shrugged, “But to answer your question, no. I do not.”

  Noted.

  The air grew thicker. Cold. Severin stared her down, a playful twinkle glistening in his hard eyes.

  Ludovic broke the silence, “We've been through hell and back, Severin. We'll talk another time.”

  “Don't I get a say in this?” Severin snapped, crossing his arms, “I know what you're planning to do, Ludovic. I know.”

  Ludovic scanned the crowd. Brought his eyes back to Severin, “We'll speak on this later.”

  The big man met his eyes with a low growl. Marceline sneered. Stepping forth.

  Ludovic pressed a hand to her chest. She took the hint.

  “Later, then.” Severin said, smirking at Marceline. The woman half his size, but knowing a challenge when she smelt it.

  “Later, Severin.”

  “I'll hold you to that. You know I will.”

  “I know.”

  Suddenly, he stiffened. Stood at attention, and saluted crisply, “Welcome home, sir.”

  Severin's men did the same, mirroring their commander like well played puppets.

  “Thank you, Severin.” Ludovic replied, “All of you—at ease.”

  LUDOVIC LED HER TO a tiny room, no larger than two broom closets pressed together. Their separating walls knocked down.

  A bed stuffed with hay took up most of the space. A tiny window sat at the very back, to the bed's right. Flattened against the wall sat a wooden vanity, every drawer filled with clothing.

  The alchemist's clothing, Ludovic told her, “You're free to use it...I guess, anyway. You two might be the same size. I wouldn't know.” he shrugged.

  The little room was cold. A single candle in a silver bowl was the chamber's only light source. It was not lit.

  “As I said before, this is the alchemist's tower. Her lab is a couple doors down.” he paced slowly, gesticulating as he spoke, “I don't believe she sleeps, so don't be surprised if you hear her pacing the halls all hours of the day and night.” he brought up a finger. Pointed, “At the very end of the hallway is a little armory. It's nothing like the main building's armory, but its got a good collection of weaponry. You're free to use it.” He scratched is forehead. Mumbled a bit before murmuring, “If you cross the bridge again—dining hall's in the main building. Courtyard is for training—all kinds. Don't mind Severin and his men, they won't bother you. Just don't take up too much space down there if you do decide to do some weapons training. We've only got so much space.”

  “Why are you allowing me to stay?”

  He stopped pacing. Murmured an, “Oh.”

  Marceline waited, her back to the window.

  “You helped us. You decided to stay with us and so I'm helping you.”

  “Don't play games with me, Ludovic.” it was easy to spot when he was lying. All Marceline had to do was watch for the disappearance of his bottom lip as he swiftly bit it.

  Ludovic sighed, “Nothing gets past you, does it?” and he threw open his hands, “Which is exactly why the Spears needs someone like you. I saw first hand your skills in combat and clean up. Nothing rattles you. Nothing deters you, and you are a slave to duty—,”

  “And that's why you're helping me?”

  He sighed once more, “In the hopes of you joining.”

  “Joining the Spears? As?”

  He shrugged, “As, well, our agent. Our espionage expert.”

  I'm not good enough.

  She took the offensive, “And what exactly does this organization do? What would I be becoming a part of?”

  At that, he grinned, “That's for you to find out! Another reason why I'm giving you a place here, in the quiet of the alchemist's tower. Explore the fort. Learn from the Spears—learn what this organization is about on your terms.” he approached her, took a single step forward, “I know what your type is like. You're tired—exhausted—but you won't rest until you find answers to the very questions you're asking me. I could answer them—but would this make it easier for you?” he shook his head, “No! It wouldn't! Because you'd still snoop and search, so I'm saving you the trouble. Walk the grounds. Learn it. Meet the people and learn what the Spears of the Sun are about! You wouldn't trust me to simply tell you.”

  Marceline pressed her lips into a thin line. She hated being read correctly.

  “Am I your prisoner?”

  He shook his head, “Not at all. You're free to leave—but first, I ask that you take advantage of this, and learn about what we are.”

  Backing away towards the door, Ludovic opened it. Prepared to let himself out, “I'll call for you later, Marceline. And all I ask is that if you leave, please seek me out first.”

  “No promises.”

  He snorted, “Won't make promises you can't keep, huh?”

  She found herself smirking at that.
With a playful roll of her eyes, she shrugged.

  THE SUN SHONE HIGH, thawing the fortress and the surrounding mountains.

  Marceline stood in the courtyard, the place quiet save for a handful of soldiers and fortress staff.

  Earlier, she had found the little armory in the alchemist's tower. Right at the end of the corridor, just as Ludovic had explained. She picked up throwing knives and some foreign looking steel stars. Wove her way through the tower and across the bridge to the main buildings. Found her way back to the courtyard and sighed at the silence of the place during midday.

  She assumed it must be the lunch hour. Maybe that explains why there's next to no one here.

  She found a thatch dummy, its make crude but sturdy. It was in the shape of a human. No armor. Fleshy like a clean shaven man.

  Placing her collection of throwing knives and steel stars onto a nearby pallet, she took a single knife and practiced. Flung it with her lead hand, then with her other. The Bann taught all of its agents to be ambidextrous, but no matter how hard she trained both of her arms one always came out stronger than the other.

  I need to stop favoring this arm, she told herself. Cringing as the knife hit the dummy's right shoulder.

  Jogging to the dummy, she ripped the knife from it and started again. Throwing with one arm, then the other.

  Tasks like this helped her take her mind off of things. Reine...Aldric...Remy...her fellow Agents...

  She missed them. She missed them all.

  But they probably didn't miss her.

  She flung the knife again. It caught between the dummy's coal black eyes.

  Marceline wished she could have done that to the man who freed Reine's head from her body.

  But what use is wishing? I'm here. Now. I need to do something. Perhaps I should go back?

  But what good is backtracking?

  She flung the knife again, using her weaker arm this time. It twacked the dummy in its chest.

  Where are they now? Lucius and the others? Did the Roselets survive that army?

  Are they even still alive?

  She ignored the urge to blink. Choked the throwing knife's leather hilt.

  Did they bury Reine? Merde...if she comes back as something else...

  It was a rumor, a southern belief, that if the dead were left unburied they came back as monsters. Depending on the death, they could come back as night wraiths. As blighters or corpse-eaters and thousands of other nightmarish things.

  Marceline hoped Reine had been buried.

  Her stomach turned at the thought of encountering Reine in a different form.

  Then it would be my duty to kill her.

  Again.

  She shook her head at that.

  The knife slammed into the dummy's temple with a twang.

  Behind her, a collection of women clapped.

  Marceline ignored the cheers. Collected the knife and exchanged it for a throwing star.

  Aren't these from Sorrel?

  Who am I to know?

  She flung the weapon with a wide curve. It stabbed the dummy in its chest.

  The women at her back gasped. Murmured excitedly as she went to retrieve it.

  Are they watching me?

  She itched at the thought.

  This was supposed to be her quiet time—her time to think. But slowly, the courtyard was beginning to fill up again as an entire hour passed. Another one. Minutes.

  Quickly, a crowd began to gather. Began to talk and cheer as she continued throwing. As she continued checking the strength of both arms.

  She contemplated dropping the weapons and running.

  No, she told herself, eying the crowd with a sidelong glare, I'm tired of running. From now on, I will face things head on. She set her jaw, Beginning with this.

  Turning to face the crowd, she scanned the gathered women. Here and there, young men dotted the crowd. People gossiped, murmured and pointed. Three or four times, she heard her name. Her title.

  I've never been this popular before.

  She almost smirked at her own joke.

  Marceline met large doe eyes.

  “You.” she called out, nodding at a young woman equal in height. She wore a stained white apron atop a tattered surcoat. Blond hair was curly. Puffed like a sheep's.

  The young woman pointed at herself.

  Marceline gestured for the young woman to approach her, brought out two fingers and crooked them.

  The girl separated herself from the crowd tentatively. The collection of people gasped. Spoke more animatedly.

  She came to stand before Marceline. Though they were the same height, it seemed as if Marceline had to look up.

  “Were you...calling me?” doe-eyes asked.

  Marceline nodded. Brought a finger up and stalked towards her collection of weapons. Took a throwing knife and offered the hilt to her, “You...want to try?”

  Merde, I am not a people person.

  The young lady nodded, her face brightening, “Will you teach me?”

  Again, Marceline nodded.

  “Then yes—oh—this is exciting!”

  Bile swelled up in Marceline's throat as the crowd continued to grow. Cheering them on as she taught the young woman how to throw a knife. More women came forth. One young man. They hassled her, begged to be taught as well.

  Marceline groaned at the attention, but she obliged. Wanting to help.

  At this, the crowd only grew more. As did people who wanted to learn. And for the first time that day, Marceline truly felt the breadth of her exhaustion as a headache began to pound between her eyes.

  She groaned. Swore she could feel the crowd multiply behind her.

  What have I done?

  TIME PASSED. HOURS. The sun began to fall as the horizon glowed orange. She taught the young woman, taught others that came forth. Held a competition as to which newcomer could prick their dummy in the chest the most.

  Her headache waned. Exhaustion giving way to happiness.

  By now, she was only running on fumes, but she was enjoying herself. Ignoring her past and delving into her present.

  What could I become here?

  She looked to the crowd of onlookers. Saw more eager faces, more excited students.

  What could I do for them?

  “And, what exactly is this?” screeched a voice.

  The entire courtyard hushed.

  “You aren't Commander Dechamps. Nor are you one of his captains.” sneered a tall and lanky elder shoving his way through the crowd, “Just who are you to quarter my people and steal them away from their duties?” he squinted his eyes, “I have not seen you before, have I? An uppity newcomer, I see?”

  Marceline spat into the dirt.

  “A northerner by chance?” he shrugged coolly. Turned towards the crowd, “Playtime is over, gentlefolk! Back to your stations—your duties! We have much to do—much to do! I'll call the guard if this doesn't break up!”

  Eyes fell to Marceline. Burned holes into her.

  What am I to say?

  “Castellan—she's the new Agent!” came a voice from her right. Marceline turned. It was the first young woman she had offered the chance to throw knives. The young doe-eyed girl.

  The Castellan snorted, looked over his shoulder with a smug expression, “Then good luck to you, girl. The Soliel's last Agent died beneath the ax of a headsman—come gentlefolk! Break this up!”

  And the crowd scattered, the people separating. Some going towards the main building, others making their way towards the bridge.

  What did he mean? The “last agent”?

  Marceline pursed her lips.

  Of course Ludovic's hiding things from me—he can't trust me. And I, him.

  She huffed. Walked towards her weapons pallet. Prepared to clean up.

  “Would you like help?” called a tentative voice over her shoulder.

  Marceline shook her head no.

  “Will you continue to teach?”

  Marceline turned. Sat on the pallet
and straightened her legs. Crossed them at the ankles, “Why? Would you like to learn?”

  The young woman laughed. Her voice like silver bells, “Yes.”

  “And?”

  She swallowed, “I'd like to work in the field—out there, beyond these walls. I'd like to help.”

  Marceline smirked, “Why would you want to leave the safety of this fortress? Do you know what it's like out there...?”

  “My name is Adelaide.”

  “I didn't ask that.”

  Adelaide blinked, “My family...we lost everything when the eastern citadel was attacked. We happened upon the Spears by chance...” she swallowed once more, shook her head, “...my brother was a soldier until a night-stalker ate him up. One of the nearby farms was having trouble with those...creatures...and so they sent a detail out to help...none of them came back...”

  The eastern citadel was attacked...? By whom...?

  Did Ludovic know this?

  Marceline listened, her face a stoic mask.

  “...I know what it's like out there—it's dark and evil—but in here, it's good. I want to be strong enough to protect what's good in here. I want to be strong...” she set her eyes on Marceline, “...like you.”

  “Everyone has their weaknesses, their fears.”

  “Yes,” Adelaide bobbed her head up and down, “but when you're strong—you can still fear, but you can fight. You can protect those weaknesses and the ones you love. You can stand strong.”

  Marceline chuckled. The girl cut her gaze away.

  “Okay,” Marceline finally said, “if I'm here tomorrow, maybe—maybe— I'll teach you more.”

  Adelaide's face brightened.

  “Maybe.” Marceline repeated firmly. Picking up her weapons, she left without a good-bye.

  Adelaide danced on gray-green cobblestones. Making her way towards the dining hall with a skip in her step.

  A DAY LATER, MARCELINE found the dining hall. The place was large, its wooden ceiling hanging high overhead, cozy with its roaring hearthfire and constant surge of guests and conversation.

  She took a biscuit from a large round table and crammed it into her mouth before leaving. She didn't like being surrounded by large groups of people, even if the place felt cozy and warm.

  Though her room was cold, she liked being alone in it. Liked to think sometimes, but didn't like to sleep.