by Joe Jackson
Aaron motioned Millie out of the room with his eyes, and after nodding politely to the two, Millie left and closed the door behind her. Aaron turned back to Kari, who sat on the corner of the bed again. He stared into Kari’s eyes and leaned down to kiss her on the base of the neck. She practically melted at his touch, and he knelt before her. He kept his gaze steady with hers, smiled, and took her hands in his. “If you are not interested in sex, how about a bedmate to at least keep you warm?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Kari returned honestly. She knew how to enjoy a night with a man, but to her thinking, now was too soon after…
Aaron shook his head. “I am not trying to force myself upon you, lady, I am simply lonely. Few had money to spend during the war, and this city’s inns have been largely empty since the war’s end. If you find reason not to trust me, I will leave, only say the word.”
Kari took his face in her hands. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” she said. She started to elaborate, but bit her lower lip, sighing lightly.
Something changed in his expression, though Kari wasn’t sure he quite understood, even as he answered, “I understand. Have you eaten? Would you care to share a meal downstairs?”
“Maybe after I get back from the church,” she answered, which drew a curious look from him. “I’ve been summoned by the priests; I shouldn’t keep them waiting. I only came here to have a bath before I go see them.”
Aaron nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched Kari open her pack and pull out some leisure clothes. She got dressed quickly and belted on her swords despite the fact that she had no armor. Soon she was ready to travel across to the church, and Aaron followed her to the common room but no farther. Kari exited the inn hastily and crossed the intersection to Zalkar’s church. She climbed the steps to the front porch slowly and placed her hand over the blue eternal flame burning brightly on the top step. After a few seconds, she withdrew her hand, unharmed, and she breathed a sigh of relief: Zalkar was not displeased with her for her nagging doubts.
The front door of the church swung open quietly, and as Kari closed it behind her, her eyes adjusted to the lower light inside. Most of the people within were seated with their heads bowed in prayer, while a couple of acolytes whispered over the altar. Everyone in the church was human, which came as no surprise in the human town, and doubly so because Zalkar himself was a human deity. As the god of law and justice, he attracted many who worked in the judicial systems, city watch, and other law enforcement to his service, and nearly all those who worked in the justice system at least paid homage to him. He was likewise the patron of the Demonhunter Order, which worked alongside his clergy.
Kari wiped her feet on the mat inside the door and looked around for whoever might be the head of the church. The inside was simple and to the point, just as its patron preferred: the walls were bare and white with long, unstained windows high up to let the sun in. Benches were arranged around the room in a horseshoe-like pattern, with the altar at the open end of the arrangement and the center of the floor kept clear for the head priest when he wished to give a sermon. High upon the wall behind the altar, in light blue, was the image of a sword with balanced forces striking it from opposite sides. This symbol of the balanced forces, Zalkar’s personal insignia, depicted the Sword of Truth and the two balanced tenets of his most holy doctrine: Love justice, but do mercy.
After a few moments, Kari approached the altar and bowed down. She rose and fished her dog tags out from beneath her shirt, and upon seeing them, one of the acolytes gestured toward a door on the back wall. Kari nodded and made her way to the door, where she knocked politely and was welcomed to enter.
Beyond was a simple study lined with bookshelves, with a warm fire going in the hearth. A mahogany desk stood centered near the far wall, covered with papers and more books, with a lamp on each corner. An elder human sat reading in a padded chair. After a few moments he looked up and studied Kari briefly before a smile creased his face and he gestured toward one of the chairs before the desk.
Kari moved forward but stopped before she seated herself. She saluted the human by touching her fist over her heart and then bowing her head. “Karian Vanador, Shield of the Heavens, by Zalkar’s grace,” she said formally, and the man rose to his feet.
“I am Devin Sanstrom, head of this small church,” he said. “I am no high priest, so you needn’t salute me, young lady. Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward the chairs once more, and Kari sat down. She guessed Devin must have seen at least sixty years, his hair gray but well tended, while his eyes and the corners of his mouth were creased with what could have been worry or laugh lines. Given the work that Zalkar’s church performed, she guessed it was more likely the former. Light blue robes completed his look, its style and color popular among priests of the pantheon.
Devin unlocked a drawer to his right and pulled out a small bag, coins jingling within, and he placed it on the desk before the terra-dracon female. “Firstly, I understand you haven’t been paid since the start of the war,” he said. “Unfortunately, the work of the Unyielding and the plight of the common people in the wake of the war have left little in our coffers. I can offer you but a single month’s pay.”
“I wouldn’t expect more than that,” Kari said. She tied the small purse to her belt just behind her right scabbard. “Honestly, I’m surprised the church can afford to give me this much.”
“It was good of you to answer our summons so quickly,” Devin said, sorting through the papers on his desk before he picked one up and read it again thoroughly. “Master Attir Surallis in Sarchelete has requested you travel there to meet him at the earliest time. It seems that even with the end of the war, individual problems not necessarily related to the Devil Queen or her schemes are already arising. Master Surallis has something he would like you to look into, as you are now among the highest ranking hunters in the Order.”
Karian swallowed uneasily. She was only one of the highest ranking demonhunters because most of those higher in rank had been killed in the war, not the least of whom was Jason Bosimar, the former head of the Order, called the Avatar of Vengeance. She was also being sent to see Attir Surallis, the high priest of Zalkar’s entire church worldwide, based in Sarchelete, the most holy city of the rir people. If Kari was being called to speak directly with him, then the mission she was being assigned to was not only being kept a secret, but it was also exceedingly dangerous. She considered that it spoke volumes about how much her deity trusted in her, which gave her a bit of comfort after the doubts she’d felt earlier in the night: she realized the potential to bring glory to her lord and thus further meaning to her life and future.
“I’ll do as our lord commands, of course, Master,” she said formally.
“I can tell you this much, also,” the human said as he rose. “The Unyielding offers you a promotion should you be successful in this endeavor.”
That took Kari by surprise as well; promotions within the Order were not handed out arbitrarily, but only after consistent service or overwhelmingly important missions. While it was possible her work during the War was considered service enough, it was the only thing she'd done since her resurrection, and then not directly for the Order or the church. “As he wills, so shall I do,” she replied formally as she shook the offered hand of the priest, and he came around the desk to walk her to the door.
“Our lord preserve you and guide you to victory. Love justice, but do mercy, lady.”
Kari bid Master Sanstrom farewell and, after bowing once more at her lord’s altar, she made her way outside to the streets. Kari considered her orders and realized the safest way to cross the mountains to Sarchelete would be to sign on as a guard for a merchant or pilgrim caravan. Pilgrims heading to the holy city were common, especially when winter was approaching. Most made their treks during the deep winter, to coincide with the traditional New Year which occurred on the day of the winter solstice, but the holy city was crowded at that time, leading many to make
their journeys when things were calmer. Kari had only ever been to the holy city once before, in her previous life, but she’d seen it as a glowing speck on the horizon as she looked out from the rocky highlands where her unit was stationed near the end of the War.
The issue with signing on with a caravan was that they usually left from the northwest district: the seat of Kaelin Black’s power and where his ebon tower stood in silent vigil over the city. As a demonhunter, Kari was also a law enforcement agent, expected to uphold and enforce the law wherever she went even if the local authorities couldn’t – or wouldn’t. She thought it likely that a trip into the northwest district of what was, since the fall of Oge, probably the most corrupt city in the world could very easily turn out to be more dangerous than hunting demons.
Kari chuckled at herself and returned to the inn. Aaron sat alone at one of the tables in the commons, and Kari joined him. The two shared a meal together. The common room had emptied out since Kari had gone to the church, so they had the service of Dave and Millie to themselves. The innkeeper served them roasted pork with buttered greens and fresh bread, things Kari had not enjoyed at all during the eight years of the war. Among the camps her unit had set up during their almost continuous movement through the mountains, she had eaten little but tough bread, old cheese, and whatever meats the hunters and scouts could fell without depopulating the wildlife. While she, as an officer, never wanted for food during the entire war, neither did she ever eat to excess, and rarely did she allow herself to enjoy even such a simple thing as food in the middle of what she’d considered a massive tragedy.
Kari and Aaron made small talk, though he was shy about himself, and Kari guessed he didn’t want her to feel as though he was bragging about his sexual adventures. He was more interested in her descriptions of the war, or at least what little she was willing to share. Kari stayed fairly quiet on the fighting, as the vast majority of things she had seen were things she would rather forget. Her unit, traveling through the Barrier Mountains, avoided most of the attrition-based war that had so dominated the open plains and lighter forests of the heartlands. In the more mountainous terrain, their objectives were to free those cities already captured and occupied by the Devil Queen’s forces, or to waylay serilian demons as they tried to cross the mountains toward the holy city of Sarchelete on the west coast.
Aaron listened, enraptured, as Kari described Brigadier Kristofer Jir’tana, more commonly called The Warlord and whose brilliance on the battlefield was already widely known. Son of the archangel Kaelariel, he was a student under the brilliant Celigus Chinchala – a demon king considered by many to be the greatest tactical mind across the cosmos – and Kris led his brigade on a spectacular campaign, suffering less than a thousand casualties over the course of the eight year war. Kris’ instincts and ability to remain calm and collected even in the face of a blitzing assault saved the brigade from certain destruction on more than one occasion, and Kari was very proud to have served under him, something she made sure to accentuate.
Aaron seemed especially interested in how she spoke of Celigus Chinchala, and Kari knew that it was because Chinchala was a demon king and she was a demonhunter. While most people knew that Chinchala had long ago turned on his own kind and allied himself with the pantheon, most people were still surprised to hear how demonhunters reacted to such a creature being their tentative “ally.” Aaron said it reminded him of an old saying about war making strange bedfellows, or something of the sort. It was a close enough comparison; Kari had met Chinchala once in her prior life, but even still she was at a loss as to what to make of him. A part of her believed that no demon – or demon king, for that matter – could ever truly be turned, and that he would one day betray the pantheon. That being said, he’d been instrumental in the Light forces winning the Apocalypse, and thus Kari granted him the same respect she would anyone else, demon king or not.
Three more drinks and a comical tale about her friend Captain Machall later, Kari felt quite relaxed and retired to her bedroom. Aaron followed after her but stopped in her doorway, and only after staring at him for a couple of minutes did Kari realize just what her hesitation was. Kris isn't here anymore, she thought. He left without a word. With that, she invited Aaron in. Millie had emptied the bathtub some time during dinner, and fresh towels sat on the reading chair for the next day’s bath. The pillows were fluffed and the blankets turned down already, so Kari undressed herself, and Aaron did likewise and slid smoothly under the sheets. Kari moved around the bed and slid in, and she lay on her side to face him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her, leaning on his elbow and a pillow to prop himself up. He touched her hair lightly, fiddling with the shorter strands in the front that curved over her forehead while the rest of the long, smooth, silky black lay straight across her pillow.
“Can I trust you?” she asked simply.
Aaron ran his fingers along her jaw and nodded silently. He put out the lantern on his side of the bed and Kari did the same. He gave Kari a single chaste kiss on the side of the snout. She turned away from him on her side and he pulled her in tight, laying one hand protectively over her belly with his other arm folded under his pillow. He bid her sweet dreams, and within minutes the two fell asleep, thanks in part to the amount of alcohol they had consumed. Aaron had no problem cuddling with her, as she kept her wings tucked tight to her back as she slept.
The night was quiet except for the occasional toll of a bell to mark the hour and the gentle tapping of the rain on the roof and window. Around the fifth hour, Kari awoke with a start, and she sat up slowly and wondered why there was a naked man with her. She looked around for a few minutes to get her bearings, and then lay back down beside him as she recalled where she was. She had grown so accustomed to being awakened halfway through the night for watch duty that not being disturbed caused her to wake up nervous. The room was quiet and the bed was warm, and Kari took advantage of both and went back to sleep.
Chapter II – Under Orders
The morning came with muted sunshine, even once Kari rose and opened the drapes. The rain had stopped but the sky still remained cloudy and threatening. The sounds of the city as people made their way to the churches for morning prayers filtered up to her as she opened the windows to the breeze. It was still chilly and bound to get colder, but because of the shared heat of sleeping rir the room was a bit stuffy, so she welcomed the cool breeze. Aaron awakened not long after she did, and when she turned back to the bed she saw he was watching her. She was thankful that he had remained a perfect gentleman throughout the night, lending her comfort rather than suspicion, and she smiled at him. He returned it, and then he rose to a sitting position on the edge of the bed as he reached for his trousers. Kari looked around but didn’t see her armor or clothes, so she put her leisure clothes back on and motioned toward the door.
Aaron joined her for breakfast in the common room, and a few tables were already full with local temple workers stopping in for their own meal. Like the night before, the entire clientele was human, and the two took a table near the bar as the other patrons scrutinized them. Aaron seemed to pay them little heed, but Kari didn’t appreciate the attention, specifically because she was with a prostitute and imagined that was why most of those present were staring at them. The others returned to their meals soon enough, though, and Kari loosened up a little. It was just as likely they were looking at her because she had wings, tucked tight to her back as they were, and she stifled a sigh, realizing it would do more harm than good. Instead she turned her attention to a young human girl as she approached.
“G’morning,” the girl, also of the pale complexion common to the other humans, said amiably. “Would you like breakfast or just some coffee?”
“I’ll take some breakfast and a DarkWind Sunrise,” Kari said, and she received a curious look from both the barmaid and Aaron.
“Breakfast and coffee sound just fine, thank you,” Aaron said after a moment. He stared across at Kari. “Do you alw
ays drink so early in the morning?”
Kari fought for something to tell him and wondered what she could say. She had started drinking when she was just a teen, and it only got worse after she’d been diagnosed with a terminal disease. Nothing had changed: while she’d been forbidden to drink during the war campaign, she felt no inclination to put it aside as she tried to pick up whatever pieces of her shattered life she could. On the contrary, the way she’d felt the night before, and the way she felt at that moment…no, a drink was exactly what she needed by her reckoning.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” she said after a few moments. “I’ve always enjoyed a strong drink. It’s the only release I really have.”
Aaron waved his hand, cutting her off. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” he said. “I suppose if I worked as dangerous a profession as you do, I might feel the same way.”
Kari nodded shortly, but her work had little enough to do with it. She hunted and killed demons because it was something that needed to be done, and something she was good at. When it came to her work, drinking was simply a way to wind down, to relax and shake off the tension of the hunt. During the hunt itself she never touched alcohol, unable to afford coming face to face with her quarry while intoxicated. Drunken demonhunters in the field soon became dead demonhunters. The fact that she’d spent the previous eight years engaged in skirmish after skirmish was no better than her usual lifestyle of hunting: she was battle fatigued, and she wanted a drink to keep herself wound down as much as possible.
To Kari, drink was a silent partner: a celibate mate who made her feel good without consequences or an awkward goodbye the following morning. Her brow furrowed as the thought crossed her mind, and she rubbed her arm across her eyes in exasperation. She found that she was thoroughly confused, hardly able to put one thought in front of the other where her long-term goals were concerned without wondering if she had felt that way before her untimely death. Had life always been so bleak, even when facing a terminal disease? Or was it just that back then, she had no future to consider?
