by J. K. Barber
“No, no. By the Great Mother, it is good to see you man!” The general chuckled and added, “How is that pretty girl you ran off with? Any children?” Branden’s animated state suddenly darkened, his face growing dim with a frown.
“She died in the mountains yesterday after a long illness,” Branden’s head slumped for a moment, but he raised it again. “I have two fine daughters though... somewhere,” he added, his once buoyant voice sunken with sadness and concern. “The younger was kidnapped by that damn invading army during the first attack and the elder went after her. There was magic involved. Those two are sensitive to that kind of thing. I had hoped to find them amongst the people here.”
“I am sorry to hear about your wife, she was a good woman,” General Frey clasped his friend’s shoulder. “I, too, lost my wife two winters ago in childbirth. She bore me a strapping lot though, five sons. My eldest is stationed here with the army. Tash is his name and the head of my cavalry. The younger ones are still back at the capital with their nanny. The last two are twins and still no more than babes.”
“My girls are twins as well but not identical.” Branden smiled weakly. “One of them fights as well as any man,” he laughed, although it was mildly forced, more of an instinctual response than a representation of the smith’s mood. “They became one of the warrior sorcerer pairs Snowhaven is so famous for.”
“Well, that is fine indeed,” General Frey looked over his friend once more, and then turned to Mistress Mala and Captain Tenshi, who were watching the two men with amusement. “Oh dear, where have my manners and protocol gone. Please, Captain Tenshi, do the introductions.”
She nodded, saluted, and then said, “Branden Ironwright, Blacksmith of Snowhaven, and Mistress Mala, Master Swordswoman of the Snowhaven Fighter School.”
Mistress Mala saluted General Frey formally, and he returned it. General Frey then dismissed Captain Tenshi. She saluted and exited the tent. The General clasped forearms with Mistress Mala.
“It is a pleasure to meet one of the great teachers. Please excuse ol’ Branden and me. I was his captain when he was in service to Aeirsga. We’ve had many a tankard together, him and me.” General Frey released Mala’s arm. “No last name, eh?”
“I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing my parents that well I am afraid,” Mala said somewhat sadly, “and I have never been married. So, no, I never took a family name. Branden’s wife, Dara, was the closest to kin I had, like a sister to me even though we are not actual blood kin. It is a pleasure to meet you too, sir.”
“Well it seems we all have a little sorrow in our lives, but we can’t let that drag us down. Please sit,” he gestured to two chairs in front of his desk. “The report came down from Bridgetown a week ago about the size of the force attacking Snowhaven. My men have been itching for a fight, so we got here quickly. A good thing we did, too, seeing as the refuges started coming down out of the mountain yesterday. We seem to have some nasty buggers to deal with to the North, and I need to hear every detail you can give me to help with the fight against them. The plan, so far, is to keep the enemy army from coming down this way. We’ll re-take your home after we get a good footing. What can you tell me about your battles with them? What do they seem to want?”
Mistress Mala told their story with a stoic face to the best of her ability, throwing in any specific details that would be pertinent to the reclaiming of their home. Branden added a few details of his own.
“I see..,” General Frey said after Mistress Mala was done. “This knight you said that led the army is most curious to me. The fact that this wasn’t the usual random attacks from the ice orc tribes was disturbing enough, but to hear they were organized into ranks and had a leader is most unusual. Hmmm...,” he rubbed a thick hand through what Mala saw now to be thinning hair.
“One would think that the Ice Queen is back,” Branden said, restating his earlier supposition from when they were escaping from Snowhaven.
“I didn’t want to suggest it, but that thought crossed my mind as well,” Mala said, her face grim. “I thought that Illyander crushing her invasions the first two times would have made her think twice about trying it again.”
“Yes, most would run back to their land with their tail between their legs, but not the Empress of Ice,” General Frey said. “She is determined, resourceful, and quite a powerful sorceress of the darker arts. If it is her that we are up against, we may need to go out of our way to make sure she doesn’t get to slither under some dung heap for ten years just to pop up again, more powerful than before.”
“If this army is hers, she will truly have out done herself this time that is for sure. She has also succeeded where she could not before; she took Snowhaven,” Branden spat sourly.
“And The Administrator insisted on staying in his tower,” Mala added. “He sealed it somehow, but that won’t keep the army out for long. All that we have been working for is lost if he is taken. He founded Snowhaven’s Sorcerer School and taught his students things normal people only dream of doing. His wisdom has saved us many times. I fear for his safety,” Mala pondered aloud.
“I have met The Administrator, Mistress Mala,” the General replied. “That man... er boy is much more than what he seems. Somehow I think he will be able to hold his own for some time, but I do agree that his rescue is important.” General Frey rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Mala and Branden remained silent, lost in their own thoughts as well. “That brings me to our current problem. I need to wait to see what happens next, and I also need more information. The scouts I sent out should be back in the morning. From them I’ll know if the army is reforming for an incursion further into the kingdom,” General Frey finished, nodded to his guests, and stood. Mala and Branden respectfully rose as well, mimicking his action and recognizing that they were about to be dismissed.
“I am sure you two are tired,” the general said, wrapping up, “You are safe here, I’ll see to that.” He winked. “Mistress Mala, you are relieved of your duties for the time being, as the town to which you were assigned has been compromised. When it comes time to retake Snowhaven, I will require your assistance and will send for you.” Mala saluted formally. He returned the formal gesture then returned to his relaxed manner. “If there is anything I can do for you two, please let me know.” Mala and Branden gave their thanks, while the general rang a bell on his desk. Captain Tenshi came back into the room.
“Captain, please show Mistress Mala and Branden to their rooms here in the command tent. I am afraid all we have are cots for beds...” the General raised an eyebrow at the two, as he walked them to a tent flap opposite the one they came in, seeing if they would voice a complaint at the offered bedding.
“Cots are better than the rocky ground we have been sleeping on for the last three nights,” Branden chuckled, while following Captain Tenshi. “Your hospitality is most welcome.” The smith clasped arms with the shorter man, before withdrawing from the room. “It is good to see you my old friend.”
“Aye, maybe we can have some ale together later this evening,” General Frey said and released Branden’s grasp. “Mistress Mala, you are welcome to join us, of course.”
“I’d like that,” Mistress Mala smiled, as the General took her hand and kissed it. She laughed at the lady-like treatment; she wasn’t used to it.
“I would as well,” Branden added. “Just so you know I do need to find my girls. I’ll probably head out at dawn, after I inquire about the camp this afternoon to see if anyone’s seen girls matching their descriptions.”
“I wish you luck in that endeavor, my friend. Good day!” General Frey waved them through the tent flap to the waiting captain.
The ale was bitter but refreshing after the rough, last few days Mala and Branden had been through. The loss of Branden’s wife was ever present in his tightly knit brow. However, General Frey was able to bring a smile to Branden’s face several times, as they spoke of old stories, and the three of them laughed until their mugs were emptied for a third tim
e. The general then stood up, made his excuses, and headed to bed.
Mala and Branden sat across the table of well-worn sturdy pine in the command tent. Mala shifted her weight on one of the two matching benches, an uncomfortable silence settling between her and the smith. Branden ran his hand over the fine pewter stein in his hand, his fingers tracing the lines of the raised kingdom’s crest on its side. The tension in the aging man’s face, that had faded while he had reminisced with his old friend, now returned.
Mistress Mala composed herself, sobering rapidly at Branden’s sudden change in mood, and straightened her common clothes of various earth tones, a neatly-tailored linen tunic and breeches tucked into soft suede boots. Branden wore a similar set, both the off-duty clothes of a soldier that General Frey had issued them. The two of them sitting there, even without their plate armor and weapons, held themselves with the kind of confidence one wouldn’t want to make trouble with. Mala laid a hand on the man’s arm.
“She was the best of women, Branden. Dara was a sister to me and the only family that would ever claim me.” Mala looked into his eyes, trying to guess at his thoughts. Branden had twitched when she touched him, but he had not pulled away. He simply looked at her for a few moments, studying the Master Swordwoman’s face.
“I never pushed Dara about how you two met,” Branden slowly began. “She asked me to simply trust her that you were a true friend. After seeing you in ...well in your other form back in Snowhaven, I now understand her desire for secrecy. What are you, Mala?” The swordswoman sighed and her shoulders sank, as though a heavy burden lay invisible upon her shoulders.
“Do you truly wish to hear my tale?” Mala asked, as she removed her hand from Branden’s arm.
“I do,” Branden quickly replied. “Your history and how you two women met were the only subjects my wife and I could not discuss freely with one another. Now that she is gone and the secret is out, I’d like to know,” he said, his eyes fiercely locking with hers.
“Very well,” Mala averted her eyes, as she concentrated on her memories, and pushed her ale mug aside. “It began when I started my first moon’s blood. I noticed changes, beyond what was normal for a flowering girl. My senses became sharper. I could see in full dark, as if it were simply dusk. I could hear the mice in my parent’s cottage roof, as if they were scratching around on my pillow.
“With my next moon’s blood, parts of my body would change, my eyes turning catlike or my body hair turning white. These things would come and go. The day I woke up with a tail, my mother panicked and turned to my father for a solution. He decided that he could beat these oddities out of me, that they were evil and with punishment could be kept in check.” Mala’s voice wavered over her last words, pain evident in her voice. Branden did not touch her, but his face softened with empathy.
“So the beatings went on for a few months,” Mala continued, her words becoming more distant the deeper she detailed her story, “but all they did was made it worse. One time, while he whipped me, I grew fangs and claws. I... I bit off the hand he was striking me with. He screamed like a man being murdered, and my mother ran into the room. She cradled him in her arms, while both of them stared at me in fear.
“That was the last I saw of them. I ran into the woods as far as I could go, fleeing into the wild. I remember my body turning completely, and the wonderful feeling of my effortless lope through the woods. I ran for hours, perhaps even days. I awoke sometime later in the snow. Feeling cold, hungry, and very much lost, I wandered for a time and finally fell to the ground in exhaustion.
“I don’t know how much time had passed, but when I awoke I was warm. A young woman that looked about my age, fifteen or so winters, sat nearby next to a large fire, and I was wrapped tightly in blankets. She was stirring a soup. The girl introduced herself as Dara. We ate and talked. She told me her master had sent her, his scribe, on a journey from which she was returning. I told her my tale. She said she knew of someone that could maybe help me, but not in the way my father had tried. So the next morning I left with her for what would become my new home, Snowhaven.
“As you know, The Administrator was her master. Your wife took me to him, and he explained that nothing was wrong with me, that I was just different, a therianthrope or the simpler term he used was a were-cat. He taught me that I had a gift, not a curse. With The Administrator’s guidance and Dara’s unending friendship and support, I learned how to control my changes.
“After a short time of traveling, I returned to Snowhaven and joined the Fighter School, an experimental branch of the King’s Army at the time. There, I was taught to fight, both with my hands and with weapons. I advanced in rank and went on to learn strategy and teach a more fluid, graceful way of fighting. I turned my initial training into a deadly dance and taught it my students. I wanted them to know how to anticipate their enemies’ attacks, not just how to hack and slash at one another.
“Much of the town’s history you already know,” Mala said, briefly glancing up at the smith, and her voice became more present, rather than caught up in her tale. “As the school flourished and the trial period over, announced by King Morgan as a success, I was rewarded with my Master title. Snowhaven’s two schools were woven together, as a fighting unit to defend the northern border. Master Pieter, of the Sorcerer School, and I were then paired and so you knew me as such. Not long after that, Dara met you on a trip to Aeirsga for The Administrator and returned home with you. Twenty-five years or so has passed since then.”
Branden just stared at her, a bit dazed. After a few moments of silence, he nodded as if confirming something to himself. He said, “One more question for now. When you came through the window and changed back into your human form, how did your armor change with you?”
Mala nodded and answered, “The Administrator enchanted my armor to change with me. Without my specific gear, however, I would lose the clothing.”
Branden acknowledged her response with one last nod, but then he remained silent for a short time, pondering her story. He eventually said, “I found out this afternoon from a returning caravan guard that a woman, matching Sasha’s description, was traveling southeast of here toward Binford’s Bluff and then on to Bridgetown as a sellsword. I’ll be leaving at dawn.”
“I’d like to come with you, if you would allow it. I have been given leave, and I’d like to help,” Mala said in all sincerity.
“I accept,” Branden replied quickly, as if he had expected she might offer to aid in his search of his family. “Well, we have a long day of travel ahead. Let’s get some sleep shall we?”
Mala smiled and nodded. Branden stood up, Mala following his actions, and they headed to their individual quarters, where cots had been prepared for them. The tent’s rooms were tiny, but warm and comfortable. Sleep, however, did not come easily. Right before Mala nodded off, she heard the low sniffling of a man crying next door, but trying to cover it up. Poor man, she thought. Oh Dara, I miss you. She fell asleep thinking of her deceased friend, a memory of them as girls. They had been lying in a field of mountain wildflowers just outside of Snowhaven, naming shapes they thought they saw in the clouds.
Chapter 22
Jared and the twins started out just after they had eaten. Though stiff from his ordeal and the day and night of sleep, it felt good to be on his feet once again and moving. Though the oppressive mood of the forest and its strange animals never left, it did seem lessened by the interactions of the twins. Jared noticed a lightness to Sasha’s step that he had not seen before, and a glimmer in her eye that was a twin to what he had seen in Katya’s. Never having met the sorceress before, he did not know if there was a change in her, the way there was in Sasha. But, Jared definitely noticed one in the young swordswoman. It made her all the more attractive to him.
Over the days of their journey back to Bridgetown, Jared noticed two things. One of which was the differences and similarities between the twins. They were both built on the same frame, although Katya was a little taller. Bo
th sisters also had the same angular faces with high cheek bones and aquiline noses, somehow portraying delicateness and strength at the same time.
It was there, though, that their similarities ended. Where Sasha’s hair was red with blonde highlights that shone in the sun, Katya’s hair was as black as night. While Sasha wore her hair in a tight and practical braid, her raven-haired sister preferred to leave hers loose and flowing, like a black waterfall over her shoulders. The swordswoman was muscled, though not unattractively so, from years of weapon training and exercise, while the sorceress’ more feminine curves were evident beneath her fitted, dark blue robes. Sasha’s tan skin showed several scars and marks that spoke of life with a sword in hand, but Katya’s skin was like unmarred porcelain, smooth and pale.
The other thing that the woodsman noticed was that as the trip progressed, both on land through the forest and on the river in their now cramped canoe, was that Jared felt more and more like an outsider. It was as if he were some stranger, trapped on a carriage with a newlywed couple. There was a bond between the sisters, closeness that he could never hope to compete with, and on many levels would never understand.
Jared had no siblings, no family really, and the only man he had ever thought of as a relative was his mentor, Sirus, who had never let him forget that the older man was in charge. Though never abusive, Sirus had used his greater size and strength on several occasions to drive a lesson home, when Jared became unruly or inattentive. Now in his adult years, Jared understood why Sirus had done what he did, but his mentor’s brusque teaching methods drove a wedge between the two of them, firmly establishing that theirs was a teacher-mentor relationship and not father and son. In some ways, it made their parting easier, but in times like this, sitting on the edge of the twin’s familial joy, it reminded him that he would never know the closeness of kin as they did.
