She watched him stride purposefully down the street, wondering what the task he had mentioned entailed in spite of herself. It wouldn’t be a terrible thing to have that mountain of metal on her side.
-
It was late afternoon and Callindra was tired, thirsty and frustrated. The only companies that had even allowed her to try out insisted that she was too young to campaign and would have to spend at least an additional year or two training before she was permitted to fight. She’d had enough training, she needed to be in combat if she was going to progress fast enough to catch Glarian.
She leaned against the side of a building with a sigh, enjoying the shade for a moment. A door opened and she started to move away before the shop keep could rebuke her for loitering.
“Callindra? Is that you?” She recognized the voice of the priest who had attempted to rescue her earlier in the day. “I didn’t expect you to come so quickly. Come inside and take some refreshment.”
Tryst wasn’t wearing his armor, now he was clad in a simple but well-fitting linen tunic and trousers with the sigil of a shining shield on the breast.
“Sorry Tryst, I didn’t mean to come here. I was merely seeking a moment’s shade before pressing on.” She said, fearing that if she entered it would give the man the wrong idea. She still intended to find her own way in the world.
“Oh.” His face fell, “I was hoping… well, no matter. Come inside anyway, I can offer you shade and cool wine before you continue your search. Our door is open to all without obligation.”
With a cautious glance, Callindra could indeed see that the doors seemed to be rusted open. These hinges had not been moved for a long time. “Thank you Tryst, I’ll take you up on that.”
Once inside the temple Tryst moved in an unhurried stride, even so Callindra found herself having to trot to keep up as she took two steps for each one of his. The furnishings were austere; the only decorations were hammers and shields, each one with a plaque detailing the accomplishments and eventual demise of the wielder.
He led her to a simple room, apparently a common eating area of some sort. There were a few similarly attired men and women sitting in quiet conversation. Callindra was painfully aware that she was the only outsider present, even though nobody made an issue of it. Tryst sat at a table and poured two cups of wine, taking a sip and gesturing to the seat across from him.
“Thanks, I was getting parched out there.” She said, accepting the cup and sitting gratefully, “So tell me about this mission of yours.”
Tryst gave her a quizzical look, “I thought you weren’t interested?”
“Well I figure if I’m enjoying your shade and drinking your wine I should at least listen to what you have to say. Besides if we don’t have some kind of conversation it’s going to be a touch awkward don’t you think?” She sipped the wine and found it to be a simple, yet refreshing white.
“I’m sure you have heard tales of destruction in the North, but even more troubling is what’s not being said. My order has seen and fought demons there with terrible causalities. Creatures that burned from within, infecting others with the bright green flames of abyssal fire even as they died.”
“I was always taught that Gode and Onde, the elder gods kept the world in balance and would not allow devils or angels to touch it.”
“Here I thought you didn’t believe in Gods?” Tryst gave her that quizzical look again and she blushed in spite of herself, “Regardless of that, with so many of us busy fighting there are few left to undertake tasks for the Biscop and so I am forced to recruit from outside our walls.”
“I’ve never met a God, therefore I don’t have any reason to believe in them.” She said.
“How sad to believe in so little.” Tryst said, “If I only acknowledged that which I could see I would limit myself to almost nothing.”
“As for your Biscop, what is the task he asks of you? Or can’t you tell me unless I agree?” Callindra asked, leaning back against the cool stones of the wall.
“I don’t know the details, only that they wish me to gather capable companions and venture west. I have heard rumors though that they are trying to make contact with some older powers.” He lowered his voice, “I think they want me to contact the forest folk, the Old Ones.”
Callindra laughed, “The Fey haven’t existed for an age, if they even existed at all! Your superiors can’t expect us to find something that isn’t there.”
“Demons walk among us, I have heard it from the mouths of men whose word is above reproach.” Tryst said gravely, “Something is changing Callindra, and I fear things will get worse before they get better.”
“So who else have you found to assist you on this errand? When do you leave?” She asked, not entirely certain why she was entertaining the idea of joining him.
“I have a pair of warriors. You can meet them if you choose to join us; I will allow them to introduce themselves.” Said Tryst, “We leave first light day after tomorrow. I must be in the main cathedral in a fortnight’s time.”
Callindra finished her wine and stood with a smile, “I don’t know why, but I’m thinking about joining you Tryst.”
“I do hope you will come with us Callindra, I believe we would benefit from your impulsive spirit.” He said with a wry grin.
“You sound like an old man Tryst, if your companions are anything like you I think I’d go insane after a couple of days.”
“Or perhaps we would be a calming influence upon you. There must be balance in all things Callindra.”
“If I calm down I’m likely to be destroyed. I’ve only survived this long by being unpredictable.” With that she turned and walked quickly out the door without waiting for his response.
On her way back to the Empty Keg, Callindra walked through a different part of the city. She partially wanted to scout for some other mercenary companies but had also just wanted to explore a little. By some random chance she happened down a row of shops carrying arms and armor. When she paused to look at a set of leather armor, the proprietor all but chased her off.
“I don’t do custom work here, only basic fittings and I don’t carry anything for females!” He said, scowling at her ragtag appearance.
“I wouldn’t want to buy something with that kind of sloppy stitching.” She retorted, “This looks like it would fall apart just from being worn, I’d hate to see what would happen if someone struck it with a blade.”
The man appeared to be choking on his own tongue but the man standing in the door of the shop next door laughed. “Looks like she’s got your number Kerrik! Come here girl, I’ve got the quality you’re looking for.”
Callindra sauntered across to him, adjusting her baldric with a smirk. When she stepped into the room, she could immediately see this man was selling very good work. She could also see there was no way she would ever be able to afford anything he would be selling.
“Amazing. I’ve never seen craftsmanship like this before.” She said, “I wish I could buy some.”
“I think I might have something that would suit you.” He replied, “I can’t sell it because it’s not complete and the Lord who ordered it has decided to purchase merchandise of lesser quality.”
“I really can’t afford to buy…” Her voice trailed off as he opened a cabinet and withdrew a full upper body set of leather armor. Beautifully tooled with a delicate pattern along every edge, it was dark brown and had royal blue highlights.
“It was made for the Lord’s daughter. For when she went hawking I gather, but when he realized the price wouldn’t be negotiable simply because he had a title and he could find others to do decorative work for less he refused to pay. I haven’t been able to find anyone slight enough of form that it would fit but I think this might just work for you.” He unlaced the pauldrons from the breastplate and held it out to her.
Knowing she couldn’t afford it didn’t stop Callindra from unbuckling Brightfang and carefully setting him within easy reach. With the shop keep’s help, she
put the breastplate on and adjusted the buckles so that it would fit her properly. It hugged her body as though it had been designed specifically for her. There was even a set of straps to affix her baldric in place over the right shoulder.
“It’s beautiful. I can’t believe how well it fits.” She said, bending and feeling the armor flex with her. “How do you get it to be this strong and yet so supple at the same time?”
“That’s the secret of good leather armor, or any armor really. It has to be sturdy enough to turn a blow but still leave the wearer sufficiently mobile to fight to her full potential.” He was studying her closely and reached out to tighten one of the buckles before settling the pauldrons over her shoulders and fitting them in place.
With the armor completely strapped down, Callindra felt invincible. The thick boiled and waxed leather would turn most blows she was unwary or unlucky enough to allow to land but it seemed to barely impede her movement at all.
“I knew I’d saved this for a reason, he is going to die of apoplexy when he sees you wearing this.” He chuckled, “What’s your name girl?”
“I – uh Callindra.” She responded, a bit taken aback by the look on his face.
“No, your full name. I know you’ve been formally trained just by the way you walk, but the way your sword moves with you is a dead giveaway. Your trainer did tell you about Naming right?”
“I took my Master’s name. I am Callindra Sol’Estin, and you are?”
“Gerard Markson.” His eyebrows rose slightly and he extended his hand. She shook it firmly, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance Callindra. OK, I’ll make you a deal. You attend the Trials this afternoon and wear this armor. If anyone asks you where you got it from you tell them from Markson. If you win, I’ll give it to you for free.”
“What? Why would you do that?” She touched the armor almost reverently, “This is … I’ve seen what your work is worth. I don’t think I can accept it.” The regret she felt was palpable.
“You’ll get my name out there a little more, especially when you win. You can win can’t you?”
“I don’t know what these Trials are, but if it’s a fight then I will win.” She smiled dangerously, “If I have this kind of incentive then I’m guaranteed to win.”
“Good, it’s settled then. Make sure you get someone to help you adjust it before you get in there, otherwise it’ll throw you off.” She could hear him mutter under his breath, “He’ll never live this down, the bastard.”
“What was that?” She asked, wondering what other strings might be attached.
“Lord Graylocke will be completely humiliated when you are seen wearing this armor. After all, it has his House colors and similar patterns to his Crest but you are certainly not his daughter. Of course I waited to make the final additions that would complete it as a registered piece of Graylocke regalia, so you are technically allowed to wear it.” Gerard said.
“I’d wear it even if I wasn’t allowed! Armor like this is wasted simply sitting in a cupboard.” Callindra smiled, “I’ll put it to good use.”
Chapter 13
“Name?” The man sat behind a desk with a ledger open before him. He looked hopelessly out of place in the arena, old and thin with only a few wisps of hair left on his head.
“Callindra.” She replied, watching as he marked it down. He looked up expectantly and she shook her head, “That’s it.”
He marked an X in the surname column, “Age?”
“Eighteen” she replied, staring down his disbelieving look until he shrugged, muttering and marked it down as well.
“School?”
Callindra had given this a bit of thought. She knew she wasn’t supposed to mention her master. After all it was teaching her that had gotten him into trouble in the first place. Saying she was self-taught seemed to dishonor his teaching though; she was proud of the things he had shown her. After some consideration had decided to give a generic enough name that nobody would question it.
“Northwind.” He glanced at her briefly before marking that down as well.
“Class?”
“What?”
“Classification.” He said patiently, obviously having had to repeat the same speech several times today, “The type of position you wish to try out for. I’m guessing light infantry?”
“No, I want to be a scout.” She said, having heard this was a coveted position.
“Everyone wants to be a scout. Can you shoot?” He asked, “I notice you don’t have a bow.”
“No, I never had a knack for the bow. I’m sort of a specialist.” Callindra said.
“A part of the trial for entrance into that particular group will be an archery contest. Only the best get in girl, it’s the only way they can maintain an elite unit.” He paused and set down his quill. “I can’t stop you from wasting your time, but I might rethink that choice if I were you.”
Callindra was surprised by this turn of kindness, “What would you suggest sir?”
“Take the trial for light infantry and if you do well enough you might convince some Lord or another to make you his daughter’s warden. It’s decent work, and since you’re a girl it would allow you to keep guard even when she is in places where her father would never let a man attend.”
“Sit in a room and watch some spoiled brat all day? I don’t know, sounds like a waste of my training to me.” She sighed, knowing he was probably right, at least about the Scout position she wanted. Maybe she could get some experience and try to join the Wolves after she’d proven herself. “Thanks for the advice, put me down for light infantry then.”
He marked that down as well, nodding in satisfaction that she had followed his suggestion. “You’re a little early, you can go warm up in ring six. Since you are a sword specialist, most of your testing will revolve around hand to hand combat, you will be provided with a practice blade.”
Callindra nodded and made her way past a lavish tent towards her appointed station. A man stopped her as she walked past, “You, girl! Where did you get that armor?”
“A master of leatherworking by the name of Markson made it.” She said, “His shop is in the–“
“I know where his shop is.” The man interrupted, “To think he would throw it in his lordship’s face.” He snorted, “You’re playing a foolish and dangerous game girl.”
“What do you mean?” Callindra asked, but the man had already spun on his heel, causing his richly embroidered cloak to flare as he stalked away. She shrugged, the fool didn’t even have a sword. Besides, wearing armor certainly couldn’t get her into trouble; even if it had once been intended for someone else.
-
Much to her surprise, the majority of the morning had been spent on drills, tests of military terminology and tactics. Callindra felt she had done fairly well, the books she had read were slightly outdated but much of the knowledge they contained was still relevant. She hoped it was anyway. The sun was hot and sitting in her armor was beginning to get uncomfortable.
“Right! Head to mess and report to your assigned ring for combat testing!” Said the man who had most recently been grilling them individually about infantry strategies.
Callindra rose and followed the rest into a large tent where bread, meat, cheese and water were being doled out in large quantities. She took her share with a nod of thanks and sat at the nearest table. In spite of the training she’d endured, the promise of a fight against an unknown opponent was a frightening prospect. The feeling seemed to be prevalent among many of her peers, there wasn’t much talking among them.
Between bites she glanced around the room, noting the wide variety of armaments and armor. Twice when idly looking about she caught a man in nondescript clothes staring at her. The second time he met her eye his mouth parted in a vicious grin and pushed through the line of people waiting their turn to eat.
She finished her meal, eating out of necessity rather than because she wanted to. She brought her plate back to the table and then returned to the ring. She
sat cross-legged with Brightfang across her knees and allowed the trance of meditation to overtake her. Her breath was the breath of the Winds and calm fell over her like a warm blanket.
“Callindra of Northwind, you’re facing Fash Con’Anin from Stoneforge. Enter the ring.” The official looked at Callindra, “Leave your blade there.”
Reluctantly, she unbuckled Brightfang and lay him down on the sand. She stepped into the ring and took the bundled lath practice sword from the official, hefting it to feel the balance. It wasn’t too bad, although the blade was slightly too heavy. Her opponent was doing the same.
“The fight is over when one combatant achieves three hits. Hands, feet, neck, groin and face are off limits. This is a test of control as well as skill, you are not to hit full strength. Leave the ring and you are disqualified immediately. I want a clean fight.” Said the official, checking each of them in turn to make sure they understood. When they both nodded he stepped back, “Begin!”
Callindra could hear Glarian’s voice in her head, ‘When you aren’t sure of your opponent, attack quickly with a shallow strike that will not leave you vulnerable. That way you can set the rhythm of the fight and feel out your adversary’s skill at the same time.’
She leaped forward, striking like a whip crack at Fash’s right shoulder. He flinched backward and Callindra realized this practice sword was a hand span shorter than Brightfang. When her opponent offered no counterattack, she pressed on, striking a rapid series of blows. She struck chest, right leg, left shoulder in a flowing series of attacks, the bundled lath making a satisfying *clack* with each successful blow.
When she had struck three times, Callindra stepped back into the Ready Stance and waited. The official gave her an appraising look and nodded sharply. “Victory goes to Callindra of Northwind. You may rest in the shade until your next match.”
The Callindra Chronicles Book One - First Quest Page 10
