The Stories of Solem

It was sunset, at a time when Mount Sigmerus' shadow covered most of the town, but people had yet to settle down for the night. The two figures made their way through the crowds in the marketplace, weaving past the traders trying to get one last sale. 

The pair stopped at the edge of the stalls, overlooking the glittering river which was drenched in the golden, red hues of the evening. One sighed. 

"Aw Davy, it's awful nice tonight, can't we just stay here for a moment?" He looked up at his taller companion. 

Davious shook his head sorrowfully, "We gotta keep to our deal with the Jinn. No dallying, we're behind as it is, we were meant to hit that Soubeyran place weeks ago until they- Come on, let's hurry up, Scales' collecting tonight." 

"Shit, that's tonight? I don't like you going alone to see them..." 

"I know, but I can look after myself, mister." Davious cupped his companion's face, thumb running across a scar on his cracked cheek, "I wouldn't have thought I needed to remind you of that", he chuckled. 

Batting his hand away gently, the other started heading back towards the city. "Sure, sure, D. Just.. I don't like ‘em.” 

"A deal's a deal. Just got to make sure they stay happy!" 

Setting off across town, the two expertly wove through the small overgrown streets and back alleys before arriving unseen to the covered path behind a large building. The words 'Lorenzo's Artful Collections' gaudily emblazoned on a sign on the front, letting the two know they were in the right place. 

"Right" Davious exhaled as he started to unfurl a scroll in front of him. Tracing the parchment with his hand, he felt along the ridges and divots mapping out the building in front of him, muttering under his breath, "She always makes the best maps.." 

His companion uncoiled the rope behind him before throwing it up to the ledge above, hooking it on. "Maria said four guards, two up, two down. Don't lose track like last time.", he grinned.

Davious rolled his eyes and climbed the rope, peering inside. "All good Javs, should be done in ten." The two made their way inside. 

It should have been an easy job, and it was for the most part. Maria's plan was a simple one - clear in, clear out. Davious snuck his way in and silently removed the two guards upstairs, leaving them tied up and gagged in one of the cupboards. He then cleared out the valuables on the floor while Javier kept watch on the stairs. 

Downstairs was a bit more complicated, with the last of the guards catching Davious, but only for a moment before Javier dropped him to the ground. The two worked well with each other, wordlessly making their way through the lower floor. 

They had a system, one knock for stop, two knock for go, and.. knock, knock, knock. Davious heard the warning before he heard the footsteps and so managed to roll behind a table. Relying on the last of the day's glow, he could just about see make out the person's clothes, a fifth guard. Fuck. 

The guard entered the room, drawing closer to his hiding spot. Holding his breath, Davious knew Jav would have his back, but who knew many more guards were about. If Maria had been wrong about the numbers, what else- his thoughts were cut short as Javier came charging through the room, crashing into the guard. 

She yelled out in surprise before landing on the floor next to the table. A familiar yell in fact. 

"M?" Javier had ended up on top of her, having knocked off her cap, and was able to make out her metallic face shining in the evening light. 

"Get off me you daft idiot", she groaned, struggling to stand. Javier helped her up, apologetically. 

"You could have let us know you'd be here tonight Maria." Davious revealed himself. "If I'd been able to, I would have. Short notice. Lorenzo wanted more bodies. Seems you're not the only crew in town after shinnies at the moment. Seems our mysterious client's cut a bunch of deals."

Looking around, she straightened up, "You got all four right? Let's get the stuff and get out of here." Davious nodded as she started to pull some paper out of her bag.

“What’s that?” Javier asked, curiously leaning over. 

“I figure I should probably leave my resignation somewhere, after all I’m not sure ‘Bella’ needs this job anymore.” She winked. 

The three of them made short work of the rest of the place, managing to fill three bags worth of various items before the first of the guards began to stir. Seeing that as their sign to leave, Davious headed upstairs to remove the gear, whilst the other two made their way out the back door with their winnings. Javier looked over to Maria, who seemed to be deep in thought. 

“I’m sorry about earlier”, he started as he carried the bags to the back streets. Maria looked confused for a moment. 

“Oh, no worries Jav, it happens. Is D meeting Scales again tonight?” 

He nods. 

“How’s about we follow them?” 

“What?” Javier pauses.

“Keep moving, come on. I’m just saying, if Scales is hiring multiple groups, it’s gotta be for something more than…” she roots around in the bag and pulls out some things, “… some sets of cutlery and some coins. And it’s weird that they only want to meet with D. I figured maybe Jinn to Jinn, I could get a read.” 

“Sure, but only to make sure D’s safe.” 

Davious made his way down from the window and returned to the group waiting for him in the covered path, and together they made their way back to the river. 

“Right Jav, this is the spot.” Javier placed down his bags. “Scales will come sailing up here soon so I need the two of you to make yourselves scarce.” Davious threw his arm over Javier’s shoulder, drawing them closer. Seeing the worry in his eyes, Davious cooed “I’ll be fine, and I’ll be back to you before you know it.”

Placing a kiss on his forehead, Davious gently pushed them apart, gesturing back to the city. “Now go on, shoo…”

Of course they didn’t, merely relocating to a stall nearby. It wasn’t before long that a small boat made its way up stream. One passenger, covered in a cloak; there was something off about them, she thought. From their hiding spot Havier and Maria could see the hand off. The large, scaled person handed Davious a small box before moving on with the stolen goods.

Seeing him safe, Javier let out a sigh of relief, and got up to leave. Maria though, not satisfied, continued to follow the boat despite his protestations. 

Unable to silently convince her, Javier quickly left.

For the next few minutes Maria stalked her prey, running quietly along the riverbank, keeping out of sight of their client. She ducked behind a crate as the boat pulled up to dock, lighting up a lantern. 

Creeping closer, she looked up and froze. She saw the sharp teeth, and slit eyes, revealed in the glow of the lantern. She saw those eyes turn to meet hers, which in turn began to widen as the figure began to run towards her. 

A final thought passing through her mind - that’s not a Jinn…

Far off, Anwinne could hear the bells of the Knight’s Tower chiming. In the mists shrouding the city they sounded muffled and far off, though Anwinne knew it was barely a few hundred paces away. She smoothed back her creamy feathers, damp as the cobblestones beneath her feet, and hurried onwards, time was of the essence. 

The buildings of Wyrdr’s upper quarter loomed over her, like giants stood shoulder to shoulder, many were silent and dark at this late hour but in one there still glowed an orange light, dim behind the dull glass but enough to illuminate the apothecary’s sign that swung above it. Anwinne began hammering on the door, balled fist meeting the wood in a dull thump, thump, thump. 

“Ren! Ren! Open up! I’m back!” muffled cursing answered her behind the door and the sound of something metal clattering to the ground. The door swung open and Ren peered out into the street. His features were far more vulpine than any human sharp and angular. Though a shock of orange fur covered much of his face, much of it was greying now. His eyes however were bright as ever and crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her.

“Come in, come in, quickly now, did you find them?” 

“Yes precisely where you remembered them being, into the Sleeping Woods about half a league I found the pools you described.” She unslung her shoulder bag as she pushed past him and began pulling out small bundles of the strange purple flowers he had asked for. 

Ren wordlessly began turning them over and over in his hands, then, apparently satisfied, nodded. He began swiftly removing the petals, measuring quantities by eye and submerging them in a small brass pot. Anwinne stood to one side feeling useless as the apothecary worked, she had done all she could and there was no time left for words, only actions would see if this was the cure she was looking for…

The Jacinthe slipped through the murky water with barely a ripple. Bail allowed themselves a small smile of satisfaction, Kid was really starting to come into their own, at only nineteen summers they’d rate her with the best of Hanneth’s crew of smugglers and thieves. They’d been a scrawny and dirty kid (hence the name) when Bail had run across them, hiding in the Unbound Bog. It seemed like just yesterday seeing her cold, scared face looking out at them from a thick bed of rushes. She’d been so pale they'd first thought of all the stories of swamp ghasts their Mam had scared them with when they were little. But despite all the warnings and doubts of their unquiet mind they couldn’t have left them there. They let Kid scramble aboard, wrapped them in a scratchy blanket and gave the small sack of skin some bone hard biscuits that she wolfed down. 

To tell the truth the Kid was still scrawny and dirty but they'd taught her all the tricks of the trade and with a few more jobs under their belt they’d be passing the Jacinthe onto them instead. Bail tilted the rudder as Kid adjusted their speed with the pole, angling round a small island of swamp grass, home only to high rushes and a vibrant colony of frogs by the sounds of things. It slid past them as they pressed onwards rapidly dwindling behind them. 

Kid turned suddenly, raggedly cut hair sticking out from under her cap and pointed back into the water. Bail’s eyes roved back and forth squinting in the dark. Curse this gloom, what had she seen? There. Ripples. A slick black body. A blunt head nosing its way forward. Scenting them. 

“The eels are huntin’” Bail muttered dourly but with a knot of fear bobbing up in their voice. Damn. Kid nodded and turned back, pushing harder with the pole. Best be swift now. 

They quickened their pace, more ripples spreading out under Jacinthe’s keel, behind them the eel’s eerie cry began to echo throughout the marsh. Other answering cries, chill and keening echoed back.

More were coming. Bail could see the dark shapes undulating and curving towards them through side channels and uncoiling from pools as what had been a single eel became two, then three, then a dozen. Bail hauled on the tiller cutting a long arc through the water. To the mud with the beasts, how had they caught their scent? They’d taken all the precautions, Kid was the best, no way they could have… 

Blinding light lit the narrow water way, so sudden and bright that Kid yelled out and Bail threw up one gloved hand to cover their eyes. A much larger vessel, brown and dark green like the swamp about it blocked their way forward, a half dozen figures arrayed on it, Ustican mirror lamps pointed down at the Jacinthe and churning water of the eels behind the boat. Bail’s heart thudded in their chest as their remaining momentum ended with a cracking sound of wood on wood Jacinthe’s prow striking the other vessel and stopping dead. 

Bail was still righting themselves as a figure dropped down onto Jacinthe’s gunwale, long coat flapping out behind them, it’s high collar framing the smiling silver face, its eyes cold silver orbs with no more warmth than a new moon.

“H-hullo Shrieker,” Bail managed to stammer “N-nice night for it” They began to reach for Kid, maybe they could pull her behind them. She’d fallen awkwardly and stumbled to her feet. 

“Bail, old friend,” Shrieker said, smiling with his mouth only, finger tracing a slight crack in the metallic skin. An effect not unlike a mirror, broken by a hurled stone “So pleased to see you again so soon after our last… altercation” 

The eels were swarming around the boats now long coiling bodies bumping and jostling at it so their heavy cargo slid a few inches despite its restraints. Their keening rising to a new terrible pitch. Bail stammered trying to think of what to say, all thoughts in their mind on Kid.

“And who might this be?” Shrieker asked, hauling up Kid by the front of her shirt, she twisted in his grip like a wild cat but the tall Jinn didn’t budge an inch. 

“N-no one of importance! L-look their not part of this Shr-” 

“No one of importance? Very well then.” Shrieker let go of Kid, shoving her hard in the chest. She yelped, stumbled back. Her heels hit the boat edge. She went down with a splash. The shrieking stopped. The Eels swarmed… 

“No! Nooooooo!” Bail, lunged forward, they could save her! A cool, implacable silver hand seized the back of their coat and hauled them back. 

“Your payment, as promised,” Shrieker whispered. 

“Wh-what?” Bail sobbed, 

“I wasn't talking to you,” Shrieker turned to the tarp covered cargo, “Now then, the Boss is very interested in this…”

For some, life was the sweat, and the toil, and the dirt. It certainly had been for their father, working his life in the field, giving it all he could until he could give no more. But for Dorian, it was the smells that made life what it was, smells that brought life meaning. Their first memory was the smell of burning hair; a family huddled together against the long unending winter, a mother’s coos against the dark sounds of night, a fire so warm and much too close. The smell of burning meant many kinds of warmth to them, and so it wasn’t too strange they chose the work they did. 

Dipping their hand in the sack of flour, they finely dusted the dough, feeling the grains drop through their fingers. Returning to kneading it, their eyes wandered across their shop seeing the sweet bread and rolls placed on the tray in front of them. Baking started out as a chore, a task to help when they could help with nothing else. Gradually they had found themselves enjoying it, following the same steps and rhythms. And of course it made the best smells. The moment when you pulled out the tray and the room recently misted with sugar powder met the rich roasting of a risen roll. There was nothing better, or so Dorian used to think… 

“Got one ‘ere for you”, Pickle’d said one day stopping by at her usual time. Pickle, or Sophia, worked with the paperwork across the street, sorting and reading any old page the scavengers picked up and threw at her doorstep. Dorian had given her the name from the strong scent of vinegar that seemed to cling to her clothes as a result of trying to keep her shop clean. She had thought the name was apt for a ‘preserver of knowledge’ such as herself, and the name had stuck. 

“Got one ‘ere for you”, she had said placing a small slip of paper on a clean part of the desk in front of Dorian. Giving it a weary eye, they spun it around to have a look.

“I think it’s a recipe, Luis found it yesterday, a journal of some kind. This came with it, scribbled in the margins.” She continued some more but they had stopped listening, focused on the page. Maybe not a recipe they recognised, but certainly steps to make something… 

It had been a few weeks since they had gotten the note. It had taken one to make enough sense of it to try, and a second to gather the ingredients. All that time, Dorian had felt uneasy. Things didn’t smell the way they used to. Rolling the dough, they looked back towards the note. There were words to be said, new steps, new rhythms to follow, and follow they did. 

A while later and freed from the pull, Dorian sat down with a sigh. They had completed it, whatever it was, and now they had only to wait. Watching the flames flicker across the browning dough, Dorian wiped the last of the sweat off their brow - perhaps father had been right about that part after all. They felt alive for the first time in a while. 

Looking down to their hands, they felt a tingle, or perhaps an itch? It was a new feeling, Dorian thought, and an old one, like a familiar smell once forgotten. Or perhaps, like something remembered from a dream…

Despite the already striking gold flecks that adorned their skin Markus still liked to pale their skin, just to mark the contrast even more. Careful application of an expensive mixture of plants and herbs bought up the glint of the gold even further, perfect to draw attention on their walk through town to work. Many of the shopkeepers sought out a Jinn to work for them where they could, just to help them stand out from the other shops around them. 

This was only a temporary thing though, the meetings were what really mattered. They had started to listen, really listen… 

There was something dangerous out in the woods, something that people refused to talk about. People regularly went missing, travellers, merchants and occasionally townsfolk, not often enough to arouse suspicion but it was there if you looked. 

Markus glanced at the false floorboard nearby, hidden underneath a cache of weapons stolen or bought up quietly, they wouldn’t let this stand anymore. Someone needs to stand up to what is going on, someone needs to be a leader. 

Markus straightened their cloak, turning from side to side and observing themselves critically in the mirror. Not too bad, they needed to not look dirty but not rich, approachable but impressive, like someone with big ideas. They went on like that, a little adjustment to clothing here, a little accentuation to the make up there. 

Their fingers tingled as they worked, heart beating faster as they thought ahead to the rally, the speech they would give, the change they would enact. They paused studying their face and the makeup highlighting the contours. Perfect. They grinned at themselves in the mirror, oh yes there was change coming and Markus intended to be at the front of it.

Built into the side of a mountain, Keld must have once been a formidable fortress, even now with the damage sustained it is still impressive. It is hard to imagine the number of people that it should have been able to contain safely within its walls. That protection extends even now, with regular patrols and guards it is a relatively easy place to defend. The real reason, however, that most people come to Keld is not immediately obvious. A great library resides here hidden by the walls of the fortress. Knowledge about many topics sought by many people collated by it’s librarians and those willing to delve into the depths below. 

Tap, tap, tap… the sound of soft footsteps followed behind the scholar as they pushed deeper, or did they? The stories all said that strange things lived down here in the lower levels of the fortress. The great doors were meant to seal the rest of the fortress away from below, but everyone knew that they were imperfect and if people could get down past them then things could get back up. Imagined sounds or not their heartbeat began to race, starting to sync up with the tapping noise.

Keld was built on the remains of something else, even beyond the Fortress, older and deeper. The things that explorers brought up from the depths could only have come from previous people. Worked gemstones, elaborate if delicate texts, weapons and armour all of it odd in its own way. No one really knew how deep the structure went, some claimed they had delved deep, deeper than the highest towers in Keld, as deep as the roots of the mountains even. Many didn’t come back though, those people cared about often had their pictures and descriptions pinned to a standing stone near one of the main entrances to the Fortress. 

Fumbling in a bag they pulled out a roughly drawn map that seemed to show a tunnel, one that was meant to avoid some of the more unstable areas. Pale fingers tracing the route they had followed, lamp light throwing shadows onto the wall, they stop for a moment. 

Tap, tap, tap.. Still there but louder? Breath quickening they picked up the pace, pushing down a cobwebbed tunnel, lamp thrust ahead of them attempting to pierce the gloom. 

Down, down and down they went. Time becoming harder to track, was it minutes? Hours? It can’t have been days yet, they hadn’t had to sleep. 

Tap, tap, tap… 

Tap, tap, tap… 

Echoes from ahead of them now. Slowly, carefully they push ahead, muffling their footsteps until their boot strikes something hard in the corridor. The ting of metal against stone ringing out, sounding down the corridor. Frozen for a moment they glance in panic at what they had kicked, a small metal… wheel? 

Then they realised the tapping had stopped 

“Oh n…”

Julia bent over the faded inscription though it had been carved into the stone itself long years and the cruel elements had worn it away to the point of illegibility. The whole dilapidated structure was like that, an infuriating series of inscriptions across lintels, floors and walls but all unreadable, their meaning lost to time. She blew out a breath in frustration, well when sight wasn’t enough perhaps she could glean the meaning by touch, she traced it with one finger mouthing letters slowly. 

“KARA-HAR?” she queried out loud. 

“Never heard of it,” Quircus responded, flipping rapidly through his note book, corners bent over as haphazard markers to partly finished trains of thought. 

“Hmmmm” Julia replied, tapping her finger against the stone idly “It rings a bell with one of those old texts, you remember the scroll from that temple last year?” 

“You mean the one with the pit traps or the one with the nest of swamp pythons?” 

“Ugh, never mind, we can look it up when we report back in,” Julia stood dusting down her travelling robes as the two Lorekeepers ventured on. The building was certainly beautiful even in its dilapidated state there was a sombre grandeur to it, only heightened by the whistling of the wind through the broken windows. It wasn’t safe however, the building groaned and creaked with each gust and more than once they were forced to scramble over fallen rubble or duck beneath teetering pillars. 

They were edging carefully by a teetering statue, its face devoid of features, when they saw the gleaming. It flashed into being for barely an instant, blue white and brighter than the lantern Quircus carried. It faded as quickly as it came, leaving them blinking the after image away.

“What the-” The flash came again, and this time they both managed to raise their hands to shield their eyes as they advanced on its source. A second statue, featureless of face as the first with hands held out before it, palms up. One palm was empty and soot stained but in the other… 

The light flashed again a bolt of pure lightning held in stone gleaming in the statue's other palm. 

“Now this… I have never seen anything like this in all our repositories…”

Haldin leant on their halberd breathing heavily, “Sweet Mother that thing was vicious.” 

He wiped the sweat away from his brow and offered silent thanks that he was still in one piece, many others were not. He could see Bree’s crumpled form and the blood gushing from Asha’s neck replaying over and over again. Hear the sound of the beast like rocks smashing in the mountains, smell its dirty animal like scent and incongruously the sharp scent of mint. Haldin shook his head to clear the strange images away. 

Merro poked at the huge form collapsed on the ground, “ain’t never seen a troll like this…” she muttered. “Not so big, not so fast nor so willin’ to come so close to the ward stones…” 

Lars cursed darkly as she said what they had all been thinking. The silence stretched for a long heart beat then another.

“It’s getting worse ain’t it? More beasts and creatures coming down onto the roads where they don’t belong.” 

“Tales of scaled beings abroad amongst the towns and whispers of Wyrdr raising banners of conquest.”

“Stirrings beyond the Serpent’s Pass, restlessness among the Skothian tribes.” One by one the company of wardens listed the grim tidings that all of them had come by over the weeks. It felt good to acknowledge the doubts they had all begun to share. Dangers rising and with each skirmish, each passing season fewer wardens on the road… 

“Well there’s about the shape of it, things are going from bad to worse.” Haldin said, scuffing the toes of his boots in the dirt. 

“Ain’t no use in complainin’ about it though,” Merro snapped “We’re all smart enough to see it’s goin’ to shit, question is what’s to be done about it? Not sure about the rest of y’all but I’m not exactly one for given’ up. Pa was a warden and his mum before him. I ain’t got no intention of breakin’ that tradition” 

"Nor do I,” Lars broke in, “What do we do? Same thing we’ve always done, hunt, patrol and keep the roads safe, from now till there isn’t a single road warden that yet draws breath.” 

Death is a constant, if silent companion. The end of all journeys for mortal people, a constant reminder of the time left. Yyy never understood why people were so uncomfortable around the dead, they didn’t mind carcasses hanging in the butcher but lay a person’s body out for burial and it was treated so strangely. 

He tutted, a loud sound in the silent mortuary, not that any of the other occupants minded. 

Putting his hands on his hips Yyy gazed down at the cadaver they were currently working on. The kindly peddler who had brought them in had said they’d found it lying in a ditch by the main road coming into town. They’d guessed at beasts ambushing a traveller on the road but no, no, no. That didn’t make any sense. 

Beasts didn’t come onto the roads, at least not as close as the road marker on the way out of town. That, in and of itself, made Yyy suspicious. Then there were the injuries, far too fresh, still somewhat sticky, hmmmmm... 

They began to probe and investigate the unfortunate, their own flesh barely distinguishable from the body they were examining. 

Ah Ha! Though the body had been lacerated by the hungry teeth of scavenging animals, that was not the killing blow. Instead Yyy’s fingers traced the thin stab wound in the man's chest, just below the rib cage. 

He could almost see it now, how the killing must have been done. A traveller surprised on the road, an ambush from behind, the blade stealing his life. Not a blade made of iron or steel as one might expect but a stone knife, ancient and yet sharp. Sharp enough to cut through flesh like butter. Another person holding the knife in one dirty hand, one arm pressing against the throat of their victim as they seized them from behind. A smile on their lips as they made the kill.

Yyy shook his head, clearing the all too real seeming imaginings from his head. He withdrew his hand feeling with surprise the normally slow, steady beat of his heart beating rapidly in his chest. What had that been? Curious. Yyy had never felt anything like that before and stood stock still as the minutes passed and their heart beat slowed. 

A smile tweaked at their blue lips. Yyy was certain there was murder a foot and he did so love a mystery…

Old Wes poked the embers of the fire, sparks kicking up from the fire and spiralling away into the night sky. He paused looking around at the eager faces as he continued his tale. 

“So Nata left her wicked step mother’s house and went out into the forest, her doll in hand. The forest trees closed in dark and shadowy around her. Now Nata was a brave girl but even she might have been afraid under those shadowy boughs, but Nata held the doll tightly and she looked at its calm, beautiful face and kept pushing forward away from the house.” Wes paused as dark muttering echoed round the campfire before continuing. 

“Each time she faltered she felt a calm strength inside of her, no beast hunted her, no root tripped her and no darkness slithered from the undergrowth to corrupt and harm her. Till at last she came to the house of the forest witch. Grand it looked at a distance to young Nata, so tall and made of stone unlike her step mother’s house. But the closer she got she could see weeds in the garden, the shutters hanging loose, and tiles missing from the roof.” Wes paused thoughtfully, sipping his mead. 

“Young Nata, squeezing her doll tight, knocked on the gate, hoping that maybe the witch wasn’t home. Maybe she could go back home? But the gate swung wide and the witch looked out at her with hair white as the morning snow that stuck up sharply on all sides. Her nails and teeth were sharp too like daggers but none were as sharp as her voice!” Wes shifted from his normal deep bass to a higher shrill tone. 

“What do you mean by coming here, impertinent child? Hurry! Out with it!” 

“Please good witch, my step mother has sent me to fetch fire, she is too afraid to leave the house and wished that I ask for a loan of your flame.”

“An impertinent ask for an impertinent child I see! Well you shall have your fire, but only if you work for it! And so poor Nata worked. Each task the witch set was hard work and would take many hours to complete but each time she turned away work had been done behind her back! She looked suspiciously at the doll on each occasion but it continued having it’s secret smile.” 

“So it’s a magic doll?” one audience member called out somewhat drunkenly before being shushed by his companions. 

“Oh yes, a very important and special doll indeed.” smiled Wes knowingly as he launched into the rest of the tale.

The dim taverna was noisy with the bustle of rowdy patrons, all well plied with cheap wine. Parvati let the flap of cloth over the entrance fall back, mostly cutting off the bright sunshine of the street. She squinted eyes slowly beginning to make out details in the various customers and began pushing her way through the mass, using her case’s hard corners to make space when needed. 

Guido, the owner, scowled at her as she made it to the bar. 

“You’re late. Again.” he stated, she grinned back showing her fangs and fanned the music sheets she held in one hand at him. 

“Art takes time, wanted to make sure it was finished!” 

“I don’t pay you for art. I pay you to play.” She felt annoyance welling up in her stomach and rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m here now, and when I start playing the tips are going to come rolling in,” she spun on her heel and stalked away into the crowd, ignoring whatever it was that Guido called after her. She made it to her little stage, not much more than a raised section of the floor with a three legged stool. Still annoyed, Parvati threw herself down on it and it creaked ominously under her weight. 

She ran her hands over her case and flipped the latches with satisfying clicks, she ran her fingers over the smooth wood of the violin within, annoyance giving way to excitement. She was never calm when she played, she didn’t understand how anyone could be. There was always something to feel in the music whether it be the sound of the crowd, the feel of the wood and the strings underneath her fingers or the feeling of her heart racing as she played. 

She ran the bow over the strings, testing for a moment and the crowd began to quieten as the high note cut through the chatter and laughter of the room. People began to quieten. Parvati tossed her head flipping her hair back past her horns, grinning at the crowd as she began to play.

The music started slowly, with long slow movements of the bow, but rapidly she begun to speed up with rising notes. Her fingers danced on the finger board as the elation of playing swept over her as she lost herself in the moment. Her foot begun tapping creating an unconscious beat as the old wordless songs her gram sung for her as a young child welled up inside her. 

She didn’t know how long she sang and played for. Certainly far longer than her originally planned sheet music but beyond that only the sun in the sky could say as the cramped little taverna seemed timeless to Parvati. 

She played till the ending felt right and fit. Her tired voice winding down and fingers slowing in the movements leaving only stunned silence from her spellbound audience.

Tam strained his eyes against the dying candle’s light, the letters on the page in front of him beginning to blur. Gently massaging his temples, he got back to work. 

“Still up Tam?” 

Turning to see the visitor, Tam responded, “You know me, I won’t stop until it’s done.” 

Kona lent casually against the door frame, “What’s it this time? A land dispute? Peta’s stolen Thorn’s carrots again?” 

“Not quite so simple, unfortunately. A merchant from Durnmire wishes to… Nevermind, you don’t care.” 

“ I do too,” she approached, picking up a page on the table. Her brow furrowing as she read it. Tam resumed working. 

“What does this even say?” she enquired. 

He paused again, looking at her, “Kona, you can read, stop pestering me.” 

“I can, but this is just nonsense,” she turned the page to face him, “How do you understand this?” 

Tam thought for a moment, properly taking in the document, “I guess, I just picked it up along the way.” 

“Explain it to me.” and then she added, “Please.” 

“Well, simply, on that page, we are trying to outline what rules they need to follow when travelling through the forest. They want to use one of the older paths, so I’ve asked them to help maintain it as they use it, cutting down any overgrown branches or bushes that would block the path.” 

Kona stared back wide eyed, “Do you not like this merchant then?” 

“What?” 

“If your merchant does that then they’ll not last long. The forest would claim them, especially if they start chopping at it.” Kona expanded, “And besides, that old path maintains itself. If they are going to travel using it, then just advise them to leave an offering and that should keep them safe.” 

Tam looked at her confused, “How do you know this?” 

“I guess I just picked it up along the way,” she shrugged. 

The pennants snapped in the wind above the tourney ground as the cheers of the crowd rose into the leaden sky. Down below the victorious D’Brey champion raised her sword to further applause as she stepped away from her now downed opponent. Josephine watched as the young noble punched the air, truly delighted apparently by the lacklustre showing. Neither of the contestants had understood how to utilise their reach and distancing, just battering one another into submission till the D’Brey came out on top.

“A wonderful contest,” Lady Fontaigne was opining to all in earshot “So, so…” she continued casting around for another word “Wonderful! I am so pleased to see such talent in the up and comers!” Josephine resisted the desire to roll her eyes.

“It will certainly help restore some of their standing after the recent scandal.” Another courtier held forth.

“Yes quite, dreadful business with one of them taking off into the hills on some ridiculous flight of fancy!”

“Did not one of your own daughters leave at the same time Lady Fontaigne?” 

“Well that’s not related at all!” 

Josephine thanked the benevolent spirits as she heard approaching footsteps interrupting this preening tedium. Sir Tancred stepped out into the box, eyes immediately roving the stands for signs of danger or threat. 

“Sir Josephine,” he said not looking at her. She saluted smartly, armour clanking faintly. 

“Sir! Nothing to report, the crowd is compliant.” 

“Excellent, you take right, I’ll take left.” She nodded and stepped to her post, the courtiers who had been invited to the box all falling silent as the trumpets blared signalling His approach. Josephine kept her eyes forward back straight, one hand clasped on the hilt of her blade.

With slow deliberate steps He entered. The crowds quietened immediately and the nobles immediately dropped to one knee. He stepped past her and to the edge of the box, a beatific smile upon his face. The dreary sunlight caught the glimmering glass like crown upon his head. It was not like the sort of crown one saw in illustrated fairy tales. Instead various tines and curling spines swept back from His forehead it was strange and eye catching and Josephine could not help but feel a swelling sense of awe in her chest whenever she saw Him wearing it. He held up his hands and began to address the crowd, voice booming out so those in even the furthest stands caught his words and meaning.

“My people! My people of this great and glorious realm, I thank you for your accolades and chants but keep them not only for me but for my champions, my knights clad in steel and faith in our great purpose. For we are blessed above all others, my people. I know you ask as to why. The wonder even now creeps into your mind as we look to neighbouring people and wonder. I know ears turn to what the wagging tongues of merchants and smugglers claim are greener pastures but we have something that will never change. This is a Kingdom. The last kingdom. The only kingdom upon the known lands! All others have fallen and burnt, but not us! Not us. Since the claiming of the crown our kingdom has stood undaunted, unbent, unbowed with steel and sword in hand I tell you, you are a chosen people! Blessed in the guardianship of our knights, with new stories and tales written before you today by the feats of arms and honour shown before you. Look upon your champions, people of Wyrdr! The world is changing my people and they will be the ones to bring forth this change!” 

There would be war this year, Josephine knew that, the thought excited her.

Dig. No time to stop. 

The rain beat down on the fields around Vosk and the other workers, the thick cloying mud coming up over the top of their high boots and chilling even Vosk’s stone like skin. 

Dig. 

The hoe came down again gouging fresh marks in the dark mud which immediately began to fill with swirling water. Behind them other members of the gang slipped and swore as they raised and swung their own tools. Vosk swung again. 

Dig. 

“Come on you lot! Put yer backs into it! The bloody waters rising and will sweep away ‘alf the Deck if we don’t get this levee finished!” A tattooed woman shouted striding up and down the line of workers, hair plastered flat to her head. 

Vosk didn’t pay the foreman any mind they knew what would happen if the rain water went unchecked. It was but one more danger in the Known Lands that people had to struggle against. There was no changing it. One might as well insult the wind for blowing as the rain for falling. All one could do was square their shoulders and do what they could and right now that meant… 

Dig. 

Again and again the hoe struck the earth, muscles burned as their world shrank to the feel of the tool in their hand and it’s rise and fall. Repetitive, unceasing, it almost felt ritualistic in its movements at this. 

Vosk felt a tingling sensation in their palms, strange Urdannir didn’t blister normally. They blinked and straightened feeling now the cramps and strains in their muscles coming back in full force. 

They turned somewhat confused looking back through the lashing rain to see the ditch they’d dug stretching out behind them, protecting the town.