Chapter 1
The Wanderer's Road
Road to Luten, Skadia
The day seemed peaceful. Except for the absence of traffic on the road, the casual observer would never imagine this was a kingdom on the verge of collapse. Actually, there was a lone traveller on the road and a rather distinctive one at that. She was a girl just shy of the bloom of womanhood, clad in crude skin garments. These garments revealed more than would be permitted for any proper young lady. Even most harlots and dancing girls would be covered up more, but the girl did at least have the prudence to wrap herself in a cloak. Were it not for the cloak, you would see the extensive markings from head to toe as if she hailed from some distant savage tribe. If the curious markings and dress were not enough to set her apart, the girl's ears were a sign of some measure of Elven blood. To say she was no ordinary traveller would be a gross understatement.
It was not long before a small town came into view. It did not have a proper wall to defend it, but it was ringed with a palisade and watchtowers were situated at both ends to keep an eye on anything coming in or going out. If the girl was aware of the situation in the kingdom, she probably would have avoided the town. She might have done so anyway, but it had been too long and she was desirous of a taste of civilization. This would prove to be a poor decision on her part.
As she approached, a bell rang from the watchtower and group of soldiers hastily assembled at the town's entrance. These were not mere men of the town militia but proper men-at-arms of some lord, possibly even King's men. Six riders appeared and the girl went on her guard. She did not wish to resort to violence, but she could not afford to die here.
"Halt!" the lead rider shouted, holding up his lance.
The fact that he was not charging full tilt with his lance pointed at her was a strong indication they did not mean to kill her on the spot. She could not hope to outrun the riders and trying to fight them was a poor choice unless she had no other, so she opted to gamble on the peaceful solution.
She held up her hands as the riders came closer and thankfully the lead rider did not change his posture to skewer her on his lance. The riders surrounded her but kept their distance, almost as if they were afraid of her. Even the horses seemed nervous with a few of them pawing at the ground while their riders held them tight by the reins.
The lead rider levelled the point of his lance at the girl and demanded of her, "Who are you? What's your business coming here? Did the Witch Queen send you?"
The girl could see the lance quake in the rider's hand as he mentioned the Witch Queen. The man was no craven by the look of him, but he was seeped in fear to the marrow of his bones.
"The Witch Queen?" the girl asked.
"Don't play dumb!" the rider shouted. "A queer child like you walking these roads alone... What else can you be but one of the Witch Queen's servants?"
"I know of no Witch Queen," the girl replied. "I am a stranger to this land."
"You speak our tongue well for a stranger," the rider said.
"I am a Gotlander by birth, but I have been in the North these past seven years."
"Then you have chosen a poor time to return," the rider said. "A wiser man than I will know what to make of you. Will you come peaceably?"
"I have never intended anything else."
The rider nodded to his fellows and said, "Bind her."
"Sir Olfgar, no," another rider protested. "She will work her black arts on us. Run her through and be done with it."
Sir Olfgar countered, saying, "Either she is innocent as she says and we blight our souls by killing her, or she really is one of the Witch Queen's servants, in which case she like as not is more dangerous dead than alive. Master Rademar will know what to do with her."
"You let her inside and we could all be dead."
"If the Witch Queen's army is coming this way, we are dead already. Now do as I say and bind her."
Three of the riders dismounted, one to bind the girl's wrists and two to cover the man while he worked. The girl was careful not to make any move that might startle them. It would be a poor thing for her to secure a slightly longer lease on life only to lose it to some scared rabbit of a man.
The remaining length of the rope served as a lead and once the riders were mounted once more, they returned to the town. With the exception of Sir Olfgar, who was at the head of their little formation, the riders kept their weapons pointed at the girl the whole way. The soldiers at the entrance of the town gripped their spears with a mix of grim determination and dread as they passed.
They proceeded to the chapel, which was the largest building in town, though even it was not so large, especially when compared to the grandeur of Gottestag, but after seven years of living in the wilderness, a small town like this may as well have been the King's city.
The riders dismounted and hitched their horses before reluctantly setting their arms aside. It was a grave sin to shed blood in the house of God, after all, not that there were no impious souls who had done it before.
"If God is merciful, this witch-child will burst into flames the moment she sets foot on holy ground," one of the riders muttered.
The girl did not imagine she needed to worry about that. She would, however, need to be mindful of what she said around any clerics or other zealous men of the Faith. Her education these past seven years did not exactly align with the Church's teachings.
Stepping inside the chapel, there were two hardy Michaelian warrior-monks armed with thick quarterstaffs guarding the door. They looked over the riders to ensure they were unarmed and cast an especially suspicious eye at the girl. At least one rider looked visibly disappointed she did not burst into flames as hoped.
"I would speak with Lord Gottfried and Master Rademar," Sir Olfgar said.
One of the monks took a small handbell and rang it. It was a light, tinny ring, just enough to be heard without causing too much of a disturbance for those in the sanctuary.
What appeared to be one of the lord's attendants shuffled his way to the nave.
"Sir Olfgar, what is the meaning of this?" the servant asked in a low, whispery voice. He then noticed their captive. "Who is this... girl? Why have you brought her here?"
"I'm hoping Master Rademar can tell us what she is," Sir Olfgar said. "His Lordship should be informed as well."
"His Lordship is in prayer, Sir Olfgar. You should know better than to disturb him."
"If I wait for him to not be in prayer, nothing will ever be accomplished. Surely the Lord is gracious enough to grant my lord a moment to tend to his duties."
"You speak ill, Sir Olfgar," the servant chided. "His Lordship's prayers will defend us better than your lance and shield."
"Are not His Lordship's duties given to him by God?" Sir Olfgar asked. "Now do your duty and tell His Lordship I await him."
The servant was cowed by the knight's forceful answer and slinked back inside. With much grovelling, he approached a man kneeling near the altar. The man and several others with him rose up and the servant came back to beckon Sir Olfgar. The men-at-arms closed in tightly around the girl as they went down the path toward the chancel. They appeared no more comfortable with it than she was.
Lord Gottfried was a gaunt man with sunken eyes whose beard had gone untrimmed for several weeks, likely one of the outward signs of his penitence to go along with his garment of roughspun and bare feet.
"Why have you disturbed me, Sir Olfgar?" he asked. "Every moment I am not beseeching the Lord of His mercy, the closer the enemy draws near."
Sir Olfgar bowed and replied, "It is regarding the latter point that I seek your judgment, my lord, yours and Master Rademar's."
Lord Gottfried's eyes went to one of the men in his retinue. Outwardly, he looked no different than the other penitents, but the girl could feel the power within him. It was not so great, but he was the only one besides herself with the touch of magic.
Sir Olfgar stepped aside so that Lord Gottfried could see the girl better and said, "We found this one on the road, alone. She denies it, but I cannot help but suspect her of belonging to the Witch Queen."
"And you brought her here?" Lord Gottfried asked, taking a fearful step back. "Are you mad?"
"Surely Master Rademar can tell us what she is," Sir Olfgar said.
Lord Gottfried looked again to Master Rademar, who nodded to the unspoken request and stepped forward.
He reached out to the girl and said, "Permit me to touch you, child, that we might know what you are."
The girl was in no position to resist, but she still nodded in assent, hoping that a display of cooperation would work in her favor. Master Rademar touched her cheek and ran his thumb along one of the markings under her eye. She could feel his energy flowing into her. Her reflex would be to repel him, so she closed her eyes to better focus on making a conscious effort to lower her defenses.
She was not wholly passive, though. Just as Master Rademar was searching her out, she was doing the same to him, albeit in a subtler fashion. After all, he could be an enemy in disguise, concealing his inner darkness until the moment he worked woe on his unwitting victims.
"The color of your spirit..." Master Rademar muttered. "You..."
Before he could finish what he was going to say, there was a horrible scream, startling everyone. Master Rademar and the girl broke contact as they looked to the source. An old priest who appeared to be nothing but skin and bones under his vestments was slumped against the altar. His eyes seemed enormous as he pointed at the girl with a shaking hand.
"The Whore of Babylon!" he howled. "Arrayed in scarlet! Her cup brimmeth with her fornications! Salva me, Domine!"
The priest cried and screamed incoherently as a pair of deacons went to lead him away. He could still be heard even after he was taken out of the sanctuary, but that was in part because everyone else had been left in awkward silence.
Perhaps it was not the most appropriate thing to do, but the girl flapped her cloak a little and said, "This isn't scarlet, I want you to know."
"Father Johann is... unwell," Lord Gottfried said. "Between his great age and these evil times..."
"Enough of that, my lord," Sir Olfgar said. Then to Master Rademar, "What did you find?"
"The girl does not bear the touch of the Witch Queen, Sir Knight," Master Rademar said. "Rather, I felt the presence of my old master. Tell me, child, do you know of Tancred Half-Elven?"
"I do," the girl replied. "He was my father."
"Your father? Master Tancred had a child?"
The girl tapped her ear.
"How else would you explain these?"
Master Rademar's face brightened as he said, "A child! Ah, so he left us with a child at least."
"What are you talking about?" Sir Olfgar asked.
"Tancred Half-Elven was the Court Sorcerer at Gottestag," Master Rademar explained. "Nearly every sorcerer in the Eight Kingdoms studied under him and now his daughter has come to us in our hour of greatest need!"
"You say he was the Court Sorcerer," Sir Olfgar noted. "What happened to him?"
"Oh, there are so many rumors..."
"He gave his life in the defense of Leiche," the girl said.
"Leiche fell, and then all of Gotland after it," Sir Olfgar said. "Was this Tancred Half-Elven powerful?"
"He was without peer," Master Rademar said.
"And is this girl more powerful?"
"Well, no, but—"
"Then I fail to see how this helps us."
"She cannot turn the tide alone, but when joined with the remaining sorcerers in the kingdom, we might—"
"I'm not even sure which kingdom I'm in," the girl said. "I think I may have gotten lost on my way. I mean to go to Lothria."
"You are in Skadia, child," Master Rademar said. "To get to Lothria, you should be travelling south rather than east, but since you are here, I would hope that I could entice you to stay. Your gifts are needed to stand against the Witch Queen's army. If Skadia should fall, Lothria will be the last free kingdom left."
"I must meet with my father's companions," the girl said. "I've been training all this time for this day."
"If only you could remain with us until the witches withdraw for their celebration of the equinox. That would at least give us until next spring to regroup our forces."
The girl found herself hesitating. Her purpose counted for more than some delaying tactic in one kingdom, but if her powers could help these people, she could not easily abandon them.
It probably would have been wiser to decline then and there and make a clean break of it, but the girl could not overcome her hesitation. Perhaps she needed a delaying tactic of her own.
"Is this what my lord wishes?" she asked Lord Gottfried.
Lord Gottfried furrowed his brow and said, "I trust Master Rademar's judgment in such matters."
"In that case, if my lord would be gracious enough to furnish me with lodgings and a share of victuals—I ask for nothing extravagant—, then I can consider... ah, prayerfully consider Master Rademar's proposal."
Her childhood lessons in etiquette had not found much use in the past several years, but the girl hoped she spoke well enough to win favor.
The men-at-arms were not usually given to speaking unless spoken to in the presence of their lord, but one could not hold his silence any longer.
"She means to spy out our weaknesses, my lord. If you will not grant us leave to kill her, at least drive her off before she learns any more."
"Hold your tongue, man," Master Rademar said harshly. "This is the daughter of Master Tancred Half-Elven. Do you know what that means? No, of course not. A common brute like you..."
"Enough, Master Rademar," Sir Olfgar said. "I will not have you insult my men any further. They may be common, but they have their pride and their honor. If they cannot seek satisfaction, I will do so on their behalf."
"Enough, both of you," Lord Gottfried said. He then told the girl, "Two nights. I grant you two nights of hospitality in my name. Master Rademar will take charge of you. Do not go anywhere without his leave or without either Master Rademar himself or a chosen attendant accompanying you. Break this faith and I will judge you a spy and have you dealt with accordingly. Do we have an accord, child?"
"Yes, my lord," the girl replied, curtseying as best she could manage. "I am grateful for your generosity."
"I pray I do not regret it," Lord Gottfried said. He nodded to Master Rademar. "You are dismissed. Show our guest the courtesy she is due."
Master Rademar bowed and said, "It shall be done, my lord."
He then turned to Sir Olfgar and the men-at-arms.
"Are guests in this kingdom bound in ropes?" he asked.
Sir Olfgar waved to signal for his men to untie the girl. Once free, she rubbed her wrists which had been chafed by the ropes.
"You have my apologies," Master Rademar said. "I trust you will find our hospitality from here more agreeable."
"What do you mean, sir?" the girl asked. "These fine gentlemen treated me like a queen."
Those who understood her sarcasm gave her dirty looks for it.
A discomfitted Master Rademar cleared his throat and said, "Shall we be going?"
The girl nodded and Master Rademar led her out of the chapel. Now that she was no longer surrounded by horsemen, the girl could get a better look at the town. There was scarcely any signs of life to be found. You would think the place had been abandoned.
"Is it always so lively here, Master Rademar?" the girl asked.
"The bell was rung and so the people hide," Master Rademar explained. "I tell you the truth, this kingdom is on its last legs. Many have fled and those who remain are afraid. This town is the final bulwark in Lord Gottfried's domain. We narrowly escaped when his castle was taken a couple weeks ago. I do not know if we can escape again, but perhaps with your help..."
The girl did not think she could make that much of a difference, but saying so would only dishearten Master Rademar, so what was to be gained by it? The more she thought about it, the more joining these people seemed like nothing more than a losing prospect. She felt a little guilty for it, but she could at least enjoy some decent food and a roof over her head for a couple days before moving on.
However, they did not even reach her intended lodgings when the bell rang from the other side of town. It rang more desperately than when the girl was spotted and if that were not enough to warn them, a dark presence was carried on the wind. There could be little doubt what it meant.
"They've come..." Master Rademar said. "I knew it was only a matter of time, but they've come... Oh, Heaven help us..."
He then looked to the girl and a hint of madness crept into his eyes.
"You..."
He seized the girl by the shoulder, shouting, "It was you! You led them here!"
"They're coming from the opposite direction as me!" the girl protested, for whatever good it would do her. "How could I have led them here?"
There actually were several ways if she thought about it, but that was not going to help her case. Fortunately, accusing her became less important as the Witch Queen's army made its presence known with the sounding of horns and the raising of cries that could not possibly be human.
A tune began to form. The horns would sound, heavy drums would be pounded for a few beats, then the cry was raised again. This pattern repeated as the army came closer and closer.
Lord Gottfried's men responded with horns of their own to rally their numbers. There were only about two hundred men-at-arms at best, perhaps thirty horsemen, and about another hundred peasant men armed with simple spears or assorted farming tools. The girl did not know the numbers of the Witch Queen's army, but she was sure the town's defenders were sorely outmatched.
It was quite likely Master Rademar had at one time been a more valiant man, but having already faced the Witch Queen's army once, his courage failed him this time. Forgetting the girl, forgetting duty, honor, and anything else besides saving his own life, he fled.
"Where are you going!?" the girl called out to him.
Being far swifter of foot even without the aid of her powers, catching up to the fleeing sorcerer was no challenge for the girl.
"Wait!" she cried, grabbing Master Rademar by the sleeve.
"Unhand me, devil!" a now frenzied Master Rademar howled, striking the girl with his staff.
The girl let him go to hold her bruised cheek and for a moment, a flash of anger broke through her discipline and she lashed out. The power surged down her arm and out from her fingertips. Master Rademar was frozen where he stood, looking as if a giant hand was squeezing him. It was only a binding spell, as even in a lapse of discipline she would never use the deadly arts against someone who was not seeking her life, but with the suspicions around her, she should not have been using her powers at all.
"Y, you..." Master Rademar growled.
"Come to your senses, sir," the girl told him. "If we can't hold this town, we need to get as many people out as we can."
"It's too late," Master Rademar said, chuckling to himself. "That call you hear, it is the army of the Witch Queen's own Champion, General Andronikos. We are all going to die."
The ground lit up under the girl's feet and she just barely had time enough to shield herself before she was engulfed in an eruption of flame. Naturally, she could not keep her hold on Master Rademar, which was exactly as he intended. She drew her knives, ready for a fight if that was what it had come to, but he was already running once more by the time the flames cleared.
She had to decide what to do and quickly. If she was going to remain, it would only be permitted if she was in the care of Master Rademar, but he clearly meant to flee and would likely fight to the death if anyone tried to detain him. If she chose to flee, she would have to get through the rearguard left to defend the other side of town. Neither option was favorable.
A third option occurred to her. The town's defenders were concentrated at the two gates, which meant that she stood a good chance of avoiding a fight if she went anywhere else. All she would have to do was scale the palisade, which she was certainly capable of doing.
Before she could commit to this course of action, her ears picked up this awful screeching whistle. She looked to see what looked like a great black cloud approaching. It was no cloud but countless arrows, with no few of them landing only several paces from where the girl stood. No arrow should have been able to fly so far. Either there was magic at work or the Witch Queen's army had stronger bows that any craft of men and archers with the monstrous strength to wield them.
She took the edge of her knife and ran it across the pad of her thumb, then hastily drew markings in blood on her palm and down the length of her forearm, first on the right and then on the left. She took hold of the corners of her cloak and began the incantation. She crossed her arms until the last word of the incantation, where she spread her arms wide and her cloak became as great feathered wings. She sprang up and with a strong beat of her wings, she took to the sky.
From the air, the girl could get a better view of the situation and it was indeed dire. The enemy had to number in the thousands. Someone with more experience than her could probably get a more accurate count by looking at them. There were four long columns of infantry and several smaller blocks as well. As she imagined, it was not just humans in their ranks either. She counted at least twenty Giants and who knew what other creatures might be in the Witch Queen's thrall?
The town's defenders were not fools enough to march out to certain death. They would make use of what defense the palisade offered and bottleneck of the town gate. It would buy them a little time, but not much. Maybe at least some of the people could escape before the defenders were overrun.
There was still a part of the girl who wanted to help somehow even though her reason told her there was nothing she could do and that the longer she tarried, the more likely she would wind up dead and her mission would be for naught.
The Witch Queen's army loosed another volley. How many hundreds of arrows did there have to be? They were clearly intended to soften up the defender's formation before the enemy made their push at the gates.
Now, the girl should have been well out of range. She certainly had not gotten any closer after the first volley came so near. And yet she felt a punch to the ribs that knocked her out of the sky. Were it not for her training, she would not have had the presence of mind to unleash a gust of wind before she hit the ground to slow her fall and not break every bone in her body.
Even if she was not killed outright, either by the arrow or by her landing, she feared she might not have long. The arrow likely pierced her lung. Her breath hitched in her throat. Feebly she tried to crawl away for whatever good it would do her. Meanwhile, the Witch Queen's army advanced.
The girl only paid the occasional backwards glance as she dragged herself along. The town's defenders, of course, were woefully outmatched. It was one thing to die matching steel for steel, but as the defenders were being overrun and started to break ranks to flee, a pair of Giants made a game of plucking up stakes from the palisade and throwing them at the men who fled. As you might imagine, they did not have to be that accurate to kill and maim.
With the only thing between her and the enemy melting away, there was no real hope of the girl surviving, and yet she stubbornly continued to crawl away. If she was going to die, it would not be because she gave up.
She went a ways farther when a horse approached, and by this point the girl could not even muster the strength to look back behind her. The horse came to a halt and the rider dismounted. Was it not sporting enough for him to skewer her with his lance from on horseback? Still she tried to pull her body forward, but it had never felt this heavy before.
The rider stopped next to her and the girl felt a hand gently rest on her shoulder. What was this? Was one of the Witch Queen's minions taking pity on her? Did all his victims enjoy such privilege?
While the rider held her with one hand, the other took hold of the arrow sticking out of her ribs and plucked it out. The girl did not scream from the pain. She could not scream, only gasp and cough blood.
She expected a knife to plunge into her neck to put her out of her misery, but instead the rider rent her garment around the wound. She could not begin to imagine what he meant to do. She definitely did not think to hear the sound of a cork being loosed and some thick liquid like honey being poured onto the wound. As the liquid seeped into the wound, her body convulsed as it felt like icy fingers reached inside her. It then felt something like when the rider pulled out the arrow but slower as the icy sensation withdrew. By the time the sensation faded, the girl found herself breathing normally again, almost as if nothing had happened.
The rider turned her onto her back and the girl got her first look at him. He was a man in black armor, a style she had never seen before. His helmet revealed almost nothing of his face. He had a small wooden box on the ground next to him filled with several glass vials. He took out one filled with some red liquid, uncorked it and held it to her lips.
"Drink," he said.
The contents of the vial were already being poured down her throat, so the girl found herself reflexively complying. It was that or choke. Whereas the previous liquid had been like ice, this was like fire, like a strong liquor burning its way down while filling her with warmth. Energy surged through her. Maybe it was because she was on Death's door mere moments earlier, but she had never felt so alive.
The rider in black took hold of her under her arms and lifted her as he stood up, then set her down on her feet. The girl's first instinct was to look at her side and she saw a patch of pinkish skin where the arrow had been. She then looked back to the rider. He had to belong to the Witch Queen's army, a man of no little rank either, and yet he saved her. Why?
"Get out of here, girl," he said. "Leave this land and never return."
Now that she was no longer suffering from a mortal wound, the girl's senses came into focus. There was an unfamiliar touch of darkness to him, but she knew this man's spirit. The memories flashed in her mind of the boy who played with her when she was small and the kind girl with him whose soul was like the sun on a summer's day.
"You... you're Maus, aren't you?"
The man was not moved by this, as if it were no so surprise to him. Did he recognize who she was?
"Maus..." he said, as if merely uttering the word was bitter to him. "That stopped being my name a long time ago. Now get out of here before it's too late."
The rider turned from her and mounted his horse. Taking up his lance, he pointed to the way she came.
"Go! Now!"
Whatever she would have liked to say, whatever she would have liked to do, now was not the time. She did not yet have the strength she needed, but she would soon and she would come back for him then. After all, it was what she had been training for all these years.