by Gwen Benaway
As they followed the dirt road toward to the village’s inn, Rais pulled ahead of her and rode in front. The villagers barely glanced in their direction, used to strangers arriving off the road, but Rais had an annoying protective streak. He wasn’t tall, but his wide shoulders and the obvious confidence that he moved with marked him as a skilled fighter. People didn’t often realize that Aoyas was a Marked woman, but there could be trouble if they did. In theory, the Empire didn’t believe in any difference between Unmarked and Marked women, but the reality of life for a Marked woman was different.
Usually the only work that Marked women could find in the Empire was as courtesans or entertainers. Aoyas was a rarity, an educated Marked woman with the mage gift. She could have capitalized on that privilege more, choosing to pass as an Unmarked woman and hiding in the Academy’s mage towers, but she loved the freedom of the road. Her father was Lenari, but her mother’s people had come from the Empire when Lenari was first conquered, so Aoyas looked enough like an ordinary Imperial citizen to deny her Lerani blood.
She had never denied being Lerani or a Marked woman, even when it had made her life harder. Besides, an Unmarked Imperial woman would have never been seen in the company of a man like Rais. He may have had an Imperial mother, but his father was an Outworlder and he didn’t look anything like what an Imperial citizen was supposed to. It wasn’t just that she travelled with him. Anyone who paid attention to them could see they were intimate partners as well—it was visible in the way that Rais sometimes reached across the space between them to rub her back or tuck her long hair behind her ears.
As she watched Rais ride in front of her, she wondered if she loved him or just felt obligated to him. His presence made her life on the road possible. There were bands of mercenary women, but they often didn’t let Marked women join their ranks. She was a brilliant mage, skilled enough at high battle magics, but she wasn’t much of a close-range fighter. Without Rais’s axe, she would already be dead a hundred times over. Of course, on his own, Rais could never command the same rates as he did with her. Axe fighters were common enough, but Imperial trained battle mages, even Marked Lerani ones, were rare. Maybe that’s all that love is, she thought, mutual indebtedness.
The village inn was similar to the standard inns that populated all of the Empire’s towns and cities. The main building was a large double-storey wooden frame with a high turreted roof. There was a narrow stable behind the main building with a small enclosed courtyard. With the mountains rising up above the village and the cool air flowing around them, it was almost idyllic. The only difference between the village inn and the usual Imperial Inns was the small shrine to the Mountain God in the middle of the courtyard. Technically, the Empire had no official religion and tolerated all faiths, but it was rare to see such a visible expression of belief.
Rais rode through the inn’s courtyard toward the stable and dismounted behind the hitching post. His horse, a spotted gelding with a gentle disposition, stamped his feet impatiently while Rais tied the lead to the post. They’d been sleeping rough since they passed through the last town almost two weeks ago, grazing the horses on the wild grasses of the lowlands. Aoyas guided her mare toward the hitching post behind Rais. He reached up to help her down even though she was perfectly capable of dismounting on her own.
“Graceful as ever.” He gave her a smirk before taking the lead from her and tying her mare up. “Can you handle the innkeeper on your own? ’Cause I need to pay a visit to the latrines.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes at him. “I’m not completely useless. I think I can handle a village innkeeper without adult supervision.”
“Is that what you are? An adult? I always figured you for more of a spoiled academic brat,” he quipped at her before turning away to walk toward the communal latrines behind the inn. Aoyas patted her mare and Rais’s gelding for a minute before heading inside to secure lodgings within, amused by the momentary flush in her skin from Rais’s teasing.
Innkeepers were important people in villages. They often formed the landed gentry, upper class citizens with connections across the Empire, and knew all of the region’s gossip. The innkeeper in the village was an older man with a heavy build that suggested he knew his way around swordcraft in his youth. She made eye contact with him as she stepped through the inn’s front door and walked toward the bar where he was nursing a large cup of mead.
He appraised her as she walked toward him. Aoyas could never tell if people knew that she was a Marked woman from her appearance, but judging from the way his eyes hardened, it was obvious that he’d decided that she was not the kind of woman he wanted in his inn. Wait till he sees Rais, she thought, internally steeling herself for the inevitable display of prejudice.
“Silari.” She greeted him in the high tongue of the Empire. It was a trick she’d learned because only the educated and upper class spoke the high tongue. It didn’t mean that the innkeeper would be friendly, but it told him that she was not a common mercenary. “Looking to book lodgings, and care for our horses for a couple of days, maybe longer.”
He nodded at her. “Silari, kinas.” He returned her greeting in the high tongue, adding the feminine title for mage. “Shouldn’t be an issue. We’ve been fairly quiet since the bandits got more active on the south road.”
Aoyas nodded at him as she pulled out her coin purse to negotiate the price of their stay. “We ran into some of the bandits on our way in. I haven’t heard that this area was dangerous for travellers, so it was an unexpected welcome.”
The innkeeper grunted back at her. “It’s dangerous alright. Ever since the civil war in Neruados, we’ve been plagued by bandits. Figure it’s mercenaries and soldiers from the losing side of the war who got a taste for blood and don’t want to go back to farming.”
“Hmm. Yeah, we saw some of that war up close and it wasn’t pretty.” Aoyas laid down three silver coins on the bar. It was more than she would usually pay for a room in a tiny inn, but something told her to not barter with this man.
His explanation for the bandits made sense to her. Often mercenaries on the losing side didn’t get paid and needed to recover their costs somehow. Given the Empire’s considerable disinterest in this part of the Empire, bandit work was unlikely to result in executions or the Imperial Army bearing down on you. A small village like this wouldn’t be able to raise the funds to hire mercenaries to drive away the bandits or get a local Lord to bother defending them.
“Odd choice for you to travel north instead of going back toward to the centre. Can’t be much work for you. Magecraft isn’t called for much here.” The innkeeper pocketed her coins in a single smooth movement and started pouring her a drink from the communal ale barrel.
Aoyas breathed an internal sigh of relief. If he’d turned them away, it would mean more rough camping in the cold mountain night. “We wanted to take a break from fighting for a while. Thought the mountains would be peaceful.”
“Before the war, they were. Now? It’s safe inside the village bounds, but the pass and the roads leading in and out are unsafe for travellers. They leave the village folk alone and our traders get around okay, but travellers or anyone who looks to have some coin is in danger.” The innkeeper placed a mug of ale in front of her as he spoke and then reached back for another mug. “Same for your friend?”
The raised tone in his voice on the word “friend” was a question. She could ignore it, but figured honesty was her best policy. “Sure. My partner. He’s an axe fighter.”
The innkeeper shrugged at her and began filling the second cup. “Good choice. A lady mage on her own or with another lady is asking for trouble.”
Aoyas wanted to tell him that “lady” mercenaries were just as capable as male ones, but it was not worth it to start fights with the locals. Just then, she heard the inn door open as Rais walked in. The innkeeper looked up at him and then back at her. He raised his eyebrows at her.
Rais stood beside her at the bar. He smelled of their horses and the sweat of travel. “How did it go? Everything worked out?”
Aoyas gestured to the second mug. “All good. Some mild judgment, but nothing I couldn’t handle. We’re all paid up.”
Rais lifted the mug to his lips and tried a little of the ale. He grimaced at the taste but kept drinking. “We are a striking couple.”
“I hate it when people are assholes to you. Still, he did explain the bandit problem. Mercenaries from the war trying to recoup some costs before winter comes.”
“Great. We travel to the far reaches of the Empire and run into the same folks that we were just killing.” He took a few more sips of the ale before absentmindedly rubbing her back. “Do you think they could recognize us?”
Aoyas considered his question for a moment before answering, quietly soaking in the warmth of his touch. “It’s possible. Mages tend to stand out.”
“So do Outworlders.” He wasn’t wrong. The innkeeper’s reaction was the standard response, not a rarity.
“He said they have been leaving the village alone, so we’re probably safe here. And I’m tired of sleeping on the ground so …” She let her words trail off, hoping Rais would just agree with her.
He sighed deeply before replying. “I guess. Sometimes I wonder if I should have fallen for an ordinary girl who ran a bookstore or something. I’d sleep easier.”
Aoyas tried to control the sudden panic that flared in her body at his words. He was probably joking, but there was always a small part of her that wondered when he would get bored of her and find a new lover. An Unmarked woman who could give him everything he wanted: babies, security, an easy and comfortable life. Girls like her might be fun for a night of experimentation, but not a lot of men stuck around for the next day. Rais had stuck around for the past eight years, but sooner or later, she knew her luck would run out. She wasn’t getting any younger.
He sensed her anxiety through his hand on her back, feeling the sudden tightening of the muscles along her spine. “Hey I’m sorry.” He leaned in closer to her as he spoke. “I was just joking. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, I know. It’s fine.” She smiled at him, trying to be reassuring. “Let’s just see if we can find bath water and maybe spend the rest of the day hiding in whatever room he gives us?”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” Rais dropped his hand down from her back toward to her ass, gently squeezing it through her leather tights.
“Really? That’s your idea of romance? After eight years?” Aoyas rolled her eyes at him and discreetly pushed his hand away from her body. “I’m not some naïve farm girl or tavern wench that you can seduce with a sleazy comment and a grope.”
He laughed softly at her and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a simple guy. If you wanted poetry, you should have stayed in the Academy.”
“No, I prefer this. And you. Weirdly, even if we get murdered in our sleep by vengeful bandits in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn’t trade the past eight years for anything.”
“Shit, lady.” Rais took a swill of the ale and swallowed before smirking at her. “You got it bad.”
The innkeeper returning to show them to their room saved Aoyas from having to come up with a witty reply. Sending Rais to grab what they needed from the horses, she followed the innkeeper up the narrow flight of stairs at the back of the inn. The room he placed them in was small, but mercifully clean. It overlooked the small courtyard with its tiny statue of the Mountain God. She could see Rais below in the stable, rummaging through their travel packs and whistling to himself.
As she stood looking out at the courtyard and the mountains beyond, an old prayer of her grandmother’s suddenly came to mind. It had been years since she’d spoken in her ancestral tongue, but the words came easy to her lips. She murmured it to the scene before her, saying the last words out loud in the common Imperial tongue.
“Carry us home, mother, through all our journeys.”
The screams woke them before dawn. At first, the screams were high pitched and distant, but they rapidly got more frantic and closer. Rais was awake before she was, rolling from her side and grabbing his axe before rushing to guard the door to their room. Aoyas flung herself up and ran to the window overlooking the courtyard. An ugly red glow beneath her told her that the village was on fire. From her vantage point, she could see a swarm of shadowy men on horses riding closer to the inn.
“Fuck. The bandits recognized us.” Aoyas shouted to Rais. “We need to get out of here now!”
“What about the villagers?” Rais turned from the door to face her. “You just want to leave them to die?”
“No, of course not, but what are we going to do? We’re two people against at least twenty of them!” She looked out the window at the men rushing toward the inn. Their torches outlined the burning village houses, sending wild shadows through the night. A few of the villagers had tried to fight them and been slaughtered, but most were running from their houses toward the mountain pass to hide.
“I’m not leaving innocent people to die for our crimes. I swear to all the gods, Aoyas, I’m not living with it on my conscience.” Rais’s face was locked into a steely determination but his eyes were soft. “I can’t just run away.”
“I’m not leaving you here, Rais. You’re all I have.” She could hear the hysteria in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. If they fought, they would die. “Please. We have to run.”
“No.” He shook his head at her. “I love you, but there’s a difference between killing people because it’s your job and letting people die in the night because you’re a coward.”
“We’re mercenaries, Rais! An Outworlder, a Marked woman. Not heroes.” The time for running was almost gone. If they ran to their horses now, they might still make it to the relative dark and safety of the mountains.
“No, m’lady. I’m sorry. I’m going out there. You can run or come with me, but I’m not leaving these folks to die.” He opened the door to their room and disappeared down the inn stairs, leaving her by the window.
It wasn’t a hard decision to make. She followed after him, reaching deep into herself for the threads of magic that spoke of fire and death. She could kill three men in close combat with her magic, but twenty was impossible. This was the end. She would never see Lerani again or her grandmother. Never wake again with Rais’s arm tucked around her waist. No more magic, no wind through the pine trees, nothing but the infinite silence of death.
As they rushed out of the inn’s door and into the main village road, they passed the innkeeper and his family huddled against the inn’s back wall. The innkeeper had an old broadsword in his hands, and his wife was holding a hunting bow. Rais nodded at him as they swept past and he nodded back. They would die tonight just as Rais and Aoyas would, but they wouldn’t die without a fight.
The bandits were only a few houses away when she and Rais stepped into the road. Rais stood in front of her, his axe balanced in his expert hands. He was bare chested in the night air. They didn’t have time to put on their armour, much less plan any strategy. This was going to be a fight run entirely on instinct and training. Aoyas was wearing an old tattered tunic that barely covered her thighs, but she had had the foresight to grab her small ritual knife before rushing after Rais.
The bandits slowed down when they saw her and Rais in the road. They pulled into a small group behind a man on a black horse with a heavy scar running down his face. He laughed at her and Rais’s defiant poses.
Aoyas wasn’t surprised that he called her by her birth gender, but it still pissed her off. “Fuck you,” she said to the surrounding bandits, summoning a small thread of flame into her raised hand. Rais stayed silent, focusing all of his attention on the axe balanced in his hands and the enemies in front of them.
The scarred man just shrugged at her before gesturing to the bandits beside him. “Kill them.”
Then, before she had a chance to think or to look at Rais, it began. The bandits rushed toward them in a torrent of sound and blades. There wasn’t enough time to marshal her magical resources, just to react. She cast threads of Air around Rais and herself in a loose circle before sending the spark of Fire in her hand rushing along the narrow currents that she had spun. The night air suddenly blazed in a sweltering rush of heat and light as her magic took shape.
Her small Fire Storm kept the bandits back for a moment. Rais seized the opportunity to go on the offense, rushing the nearest bandits and sweeping them down with perfect arcs of his axe. Axe fighters didn’t have the grace of swordsmen or spear fighters, but they did have tremendous killing force. He crushed the windpipe of one bandit on a backswing before sending the axe head deep into the stomach of another one.
It wouldn’t be enough. There were too many of them. The other bandits were circling around behind them. They would rush Aoyas, killing her before her magics could touch them, and then take Rais down like a pack of wolves. She let the Fire Storm fade out as she readied another thread of magic. This magic wasn’t Imperial nor Elemental. It was Lerani, rooted in her Spirit and tied to something more powerful than even the land around them.
